No doubt, Anders will be arranging dinner for both of them.
When my parents ask what happened, I angrily swipe away a tear and simply respond that we’ll be eating alone. They exchange a brief glance but continue on as if nothing is amiss. I push my food around, half-listening to them recount their day as I process how quickly my day has turned to shit.
twenty-four
. . .
I curlup in my bed, tears streaming down my face as Aolyn sits beside me, gently running her hand along my back. We’ve been back at school for a week, and I already miss my mother. I wish she were here with me right now. The pain from my cycle is unbearable, and the school’s healers seem to be too busy to help me.
When I arrived at the Center, doubled over in pain after classes, Agneta merely tsked and suggested that a heating pack would suffice. It’s amusing, really—I’ve had one wrapped around my lower abdomen and back for the past two hours. It hasn’t provided any relief from the searing pain that feels like it’s branding my ovaries.
It feels as if my insides are being shredded and burned from within, and I’m now at a point where I’m almost numb because I don’t think I can bear any more pain. My breath shudders as I look up at Aolyn, sweat dripping down my temple. Her black hair is perfectly straight, and her gown sparkles in the dim light. As I take in her attire, I remember it’s dinner hour. Guilt twists alongside the pain in my stomach; she should be downstairs, not here taking care of me, especially when I know there’s no relief in sight.
“You should go.” I attempt to soften my features. “I’ll be okay. Nothing is going to change. Can you bring me back something?”
Her lips press together, and she examines me from head to toe, her crystalline blue eyes filled with so much sympathy that I want to hug her and remind her she’s a great friend. I almost laugh at myself; I always feel vulnerable and emotional during my cycle.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice tinged with doubt. Her hand continues to stroke my back in comforting, sweeping motions.
A soft knock at the door startles us both. Her gaze shifts to the door and then back to me, uncertain if she should answer it. I try to roll my eyes and reassure her that I’m fine as she crosses the room to open it. I can’t hear who it is, but I bury my face in the pillows, muffling a half-sob, half-shriek that escapes me as a fresh wave of pain hits my ovary. I just want my mom or my dad…someone.
Tears soak my pillow, and my hair clings to my cheeks as I turn my head and attempt to catch my breath. A moment later, the air charges around me. I’m too tired to fight with him tonight, and somewhere deep within me, I want him here. I crave his presence, his attention, despite the endless apologies he’s offered over the past week—apologies that have grated on my nerves to the point of screaming. I forgave him the first day, realizing that he was just being protective. Which was unneeded, but Kellan had crossed a line. Kellan’s apologies, however, have not won me over as easily. I’ve never seen Kellan act like that.
I’ve come to realize that being around Anders brings a sense of safety and calm that I desperately need and want. And, well, if I can’t have my parents, he’s the next best thing. At least for tonight, anyway.
“Hey,” he whispers soothingly as the bed dips gently under his weight, and his warm hand brushes over my trembling arm.
The moment his fingers make contact, comfort blankets my senses. My body begins to relax under his touch. My muscles finally begin to ease, allowing me to take a deep, shaky breath. I open my tear-stained eyes, wiping away the blurriness, before letting my eyes settle on him.
I find him seated at my back, his dark hair neatly swept to the side and his eyes glistening like sapphire pools flecked with shimmering silver. He always seems to look effortlessly handsome, and even now,in the low light of the room, I can’t help but drool. I’m not sure the man knows how to have a bad hair day.
“Hi,” I croak out softly, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand, smudging my mascara further as I tug the blankets higher.
I take in the concern etched into his features as he takes in my appearance. I’m sure my eyes are red and swollen, my face a disaster, and well, I know that I look pale, hence the makeup I wore today. My heart aches a little more as we sit in silence, taking each other in, reminding me how much I truly need him here with me.
“Are you okay if I head down?” Aolyn asks quietly from the foot of my bed, her eyes darting between us. “I can bring my food back up if you’d prefer.”
I shake my head slowly, feeling a flicker of relief wash over me just by having Anders here by my side. As much as I appreciate Aolyn’s friendship, her presence doesn’t offer the same level of calm that Anders does. “Go eat. Just make sure to bring something back later, okay?” I add, attempting to inject a note of reassurance into my voice.
She hesitates for a brief moment, uncertainty flickering across her features as if she’s gauging whether I truly am all right. Eventually, she nods, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Without casting another glance in my direction, she exits the room, leaving Anders and me in silence.
“Why are you here?” I ask. I’m not mad, or even upset that he is; in fact, I’m grateful.
He doesn’t answer me right away, looking me over first. “Would you believe me if I said I felt like something was off with you? I don’t—” he pauses, swiping a hand through his hair, “I just needed to come check on you. Why haven’t you gone to the healers?” His jaw tenses in frustration. “I haven’t seen it this bad.”
My gaze lifts to meet his. I haven’t revealed the unfortunate reality of my monthly cycle to him; it’s not exactly the kind of topic one brings up casually, even with someone you trust. Only a few people know about the extent of my pain, and even they often shy away from discussing it openly.
Anders must sense the confusion clouding my expression becausehe continues gently, “I know you’re always in pain about every four weeks or so. I’m not blind, Raea.”
The way his voice trails off into a whisper sends a piercing ache through my chest. It makes me acutely aware of how vulnerable I’ve allowed myself to become in front of him. I can’t help but feel unworthy of him. How did I get so lucky to have him as a friend? Or maybe more?
“It’s my cycle,” I manage to say. “The healers don’t exactly believe me, and right now, they’re busy.”
Another wave of pain hits, making it feel like my ovary is about to burst. I grip the bed sheet tightly, my fingers digging into the fabric, and squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to push the agony to the back of my mind. I don’t want to break in front of him.
“We have to go,” he demands. “If they won’t see you, I’ll take you home.” There’s a determination in his tone and in his features now as if he’s already made up his mind. “They can’t let you just sit here in this kind of pain.”
A whimper escapes my lips before I bury my face in my pillow again.
