Outside the cupboard, the musicians pack up in a commotion of murmured voices, instrument cases snapping shut and laughter echoing in the corridor. We don’t move until the sounds drift away and silence falls heavy.
Jack straightens and swings the door open with confidence.
“Alright, everyone. Follow me.”
I fall in behind him, saying nothing, content to let him put on his performance.
He leads us into a grand hall with creamy walls, polished timber floors, and an unlit open fireplace. Ornate curtains frame multi-paned windows, filtering in shafts of sunlight, while chandeliers sparkle overhead.
“This is the Mallandain Room—the heart of the castle,” Jack announces, sweeping an arm like a tour guide. “Largest room on the estate. Regency décor. Original ceiling mouldings.” He gestures towards the windows. “Those overlook the gardens—so don’t let anyone spot you,” he adds as Ellenor moves towards them.
“It’s like a ballroom,” Lily-Anne says in awe.
“Idolove a good ball!” Ellenor lilts, affecting the over-enunciated tone of an aristocrat. Then, so softly I think only I hear it, “This would be perfect for a Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony. If I ever have children…”
“This room’s popular for weddings,” Jack explains, joining Lily-Anne by the fireplace. “Couples often take their vows right here by the hearth.” His tone dips—but not enough that it doesn’t carry. “Quite romantic, don’t you think?”
Itisromantic. Enchanting, even.
Butas I watch him move closer to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, jealousy spikes. Darkness seeps into the room, draining it of colour and warmth, the chandeliers flickering like fluorescent bulbs.
Recognition and memory swirl, the room blurring into a hotel lobby. The fireplace is lit. Nova and Jack are there, facing me, while I sit like a king—except it isn’t a throne, only a visitor’s chair, and I’m the mug who’s just been traded in for another.
That was the last time I saw her, resolute as she followed Jack to the lift. I chased her, blocking the doors from closing, pleading for her to stay, to leave this madness behind—not for my sake, but for the career that I could see was slowly devouring her.
For a fraction of a second, through glitz and glamour and tear-streaked makeup, I saw a trace of Natalie. But then she shook her head and whispered goodbye as the doors slid shut.
The air thickens with cigarette smoke as the Mallandain Room warps, its elegance melting away like candlewax, red banners unfurling to bleed down the walls.
Nova. She’s back, her laughter ricocheting off marble as her arms slink around Jack’s shoulders. Her hair is as slick as oil, her lips incarnadine. A final distortion of herself, garish and wrong. It’s the last version they could wring out of her before she burned out completely.
Her mouth curls.“Do you see it now, Brandon?”
I blink, heart hammering.
“No?”Her voice sharpens, and she grips Jack’s jaw, turning his head towards me, one face of his duplicity meeting mine, the rest of him still laughing with Lily-Anne, both blissfully unaware of my trance.“How about now?”
Enough. What do you want?I demand silently.
“What doIwant?”She laughs, a brittle sound like ice breaking.“Darling, I’m your subconscious. What doyouwant?”
I shake my head helplessly, but my silence only infuriates her, her teeth bared as she spits, “I’m here to tell you to wake the fuck up. Do you think you can do that?”
I stare back silently. It was never wise to argue with Nova when she was like this.
Except…
This isn’t Nova. It’s not even the ghostof her. It’s…
Me.
“Bingo,” she whispers. She waltzes over to jab my chest with a long, painted nail.“Something rotten is festering here.”
As I stare at her hostile image, the years of not knowing bear down like a crushing weight, and my lips move silently with the question that has plagued me.Why?
There was no note. No explanation or goodbye. Only silence.
“These wall panels are amazing, aren’t they?” Ellenor’s voice cuts through the vision, Nova vanishing.
