Em:I feel like a big girl
Em:apartment feels weird without you
Em:mom’s good, nurse says she’s stable. I am going to see her before heading out for a study group.
Em:you okay?
A laugh slips out of me, genuine and unguarded.
God, I love her.
I type back carefully.
Me:I’m okay. Really.
Me:Tell Mom I love her.
Me:Proud of you. Always.
I set the phone down and sit up slowly.
The room looks different in daylight. Still enormous. Still expensive. Still undeniably not mine. But softer somehow. Less imposing. Like it’s waiting to see how I’ll exist within it.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet sinking into a rug so plush it almost feels indulgent to stand on. That thought alone nearly makes me laugh.
This is my life now.
The bathroom is open, bright and pristine. Marble everywhere. Gold fixtures catching the light. Everything is arranged with such deliberate care that it feels like a museum version of comfort. I wash my face and look at myself in the mirror, bare, unguarded, human.
I don’t look glamorous.
I look like... Lucy.
The rings on my finger flash as I turn off the tap. I adjust them, then stop.
I pull on the sweater from last night, it's comfortable and one of the things in the closet that feels like me instead of armour, and pad barefoot out of the bedroom.
The penthouse is quiet, but it’s not empty.
I hear him before I see him.
Julian is in the kitchen, wearing the same t-shirt and sweatshirt from last night, hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hand through it too many times. Coffee brews quietly. Morning light spills across marble and glass, turning the city beyond the windows pale and distant.
He looks…real.
Not Mr. North. Not gala Julian.
Just a man standing in his kitchen.
He turns when he senses me.
“Good morning,” he says with a tentative smile that gives me a glimpse of a younger Julian.
His voice is lower than last night, rougher.
“Morning.”
There’s a pause, not awkward, just uncharted. Like we are both trying to figure out how to navigate uncharted territories.
