I force myself out of the dark spiral of my thoughts. We’re at a boutique. I agreed to come when the girls texted me, so it would be selfish to drag their moods down with mine. I plaster on a smile.
“I think you should try it on first. For fitting,” I say, my voice steady.
“I think so, too,” Elara adds.
Vivian breezes into the dressing room, leaving Elara to continue browsing the aisle.
I sink onto the couch, taking deep breaths, trying to stop the tears that threaten to betray me in the middle of the most exclusive, brightest fashion store in Chicago.
I can still feel the weight of Sebastian’s kiss on my temple, the warmth of his hands, his words echoing:I won’t lose you, even if you try to run.
How could he say that? Somehow, he already knows I know something about the attack on his business. He’s perceptive—more than I ever gave him credit for. He told me to tell him the truth, and I couldn’t even bring myself to speak it. How does he still stand me? How can he not want to lose me?
For hours afterward, he stayed with me. And I spent the day drowning in tension—guilt and anger, desire and dread fighting inside me. Every hour that passes without Sebastian yelling, without accusing me, only makes the weight of my secret heavier. He’s too calm. Too careful. Too willing to trust me.
It makes me feel monstrous. Nauseous. Evil.
Marko called, and Sebastian left the house shortly after. When the girls texted asking if I was free to come hang out, I grabbed the chance immediately. I couldn’t stand the walls of that house any longer.
It hits me then, in the middle of the store, that the reason I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth is because I’m scared—scared to lose him.
The thought makes my chest tighten. My heart freezes just for a moment. I want him in my life. I want him, despite everything.
Vivian bursts from the dressing room, spinning in a soft silk gown that catches the light like liquid. “Girls, look!”
Elara gasps, clasping her hands together. I force myself to smile, laugh, nod, playing the part of the carefree friend. It’s easy to hide behind their excitement, to let someone else’s joy pull me up when my own heart is tangled in knots.
“This looks marvelous on you, Vivian,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
“Thank you,” she beams, swishing in front of the mirror. “I’m driving Dimitri crazy with this tonight,” she says, winking like it’s the most innocent thing in the world.
“Vivian!” I swat her arm lightly, pretending to scold her.
She grabs my elbow, tugging me toward the display rack. “You have to chase a dress! Tonight is Operation: Drive the Men Crazy. Elara, have you found something?”
I glance at Elara, who’s rifling through racks with focused intensity. A pang twists in my chest—here we are, laughing, shopping, pretending life is simple. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, Sebastian is probably thinking, waiting, unaware of the envelope still burning in my wardrobe, the one I haven’t dared show him.
I shake it off, letting myself be pulled into the moment, even if only for a few minutes. I follow Vivian to another rack as she fusses over the fabrics and patterns, holding one out, pressing it against me. I let her choose while I fight the storm inside.
“Here. Try this,” she says, pressing a deep emerald dress into my hands before shoving me gently toward the dressing room.
Alone, I close the door and take several shaky breaths. The silk is cool against my fingers. I pull it over my head and step into it, feeling the weight of its elegance, the way it hugs curves I know Sebastian appreciated. I’m a terrible person. A terrible person. Every inch of me wants to run home, to Sebastian, to confess and beg him not to leave. My chest tightens, my stomach knots. The urge to see him now burns hotter than any desire I’ve felt in months.
I step out into the boutique. The mirrors catch every angle of the dress—its sweep, its shimmer—but I barely notice. Elara and Vivian gush over me, their voices high with excitement. I nod, smile, laugh just enough to play the part, but inside, I’m burning with need.
Then I have to wait while Elara tries hers on, a slow eternity as my pulse hammers. When she finally emerges, giggling and twirling, we move on to the jewelry store. I slip into the passenger seat of the car, letting the warm chatter of the girls wash over me. I nod at the right moments, laugh in the right places, perfect pretense.
But none of it touches me. I’m there in body only. My mind is racing, imagining Sebastian pacing, worrying, slowly losing his business and integrity. My fingers twitch against my thigh, clenching, unclenching. My body burns—not from the silk, not from the laughter, but from the need to see him, to tell him everything, and finally lay my secret bare.
One hour later, I’m finally home.
And to my greatest disappointment, Sebastian isn’t here.
Marko too. The house is empty, too quiet, the kind of quiet that presses in on your chest.
I make my way upstairs, drawn like a magnet to his studio. My feet drag across the carpet, each step heavier than the last. I reach the easel and pause, my fingers trembling slightly as I brush the edge of the cloth. I pull it away, revealing the charcoal portrait of me.
I stare, unblinking.
