“When I was younger, I didn’t recognize how tired she always seemed. I’d just become an overnight sensation at eleven and was selfish, but she supported my career without complaint. She supported my father’s career without complaint. She practically did everything without complaint.
“When she was diagnosed with ALS and my father left us, she became a new person. She realized she’d wasted her life caring only about what others thought of her. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted anymore. She was basically performing her whole life.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “In the end, it didn’t matter.”
His words resonated so profoundly that my eyes burned with unshed tears. I swallowed and glanced at the ceiling for a moment.
She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted anymore.
Performing.
That word stuck. Echoed.
I rubbed my arms, unsettled. “That’s…That sounds so lonely.”
Luca nodded, offering me a sad smile.
My chest felt tight, like I’d swallowed something too large to fit. I tried to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.
Because somewhere deep down, I recognized the truth in what he’d said. Not about his mother. About me. I’d spent so much of my life trying to be what people wanted. What I thought they needed. Some days, I barely recognized the person left.
The knot in my throat got tighter and tighter, the burning in my eyes becoming too overwhelming.
“Please don’t cry,” he said, softer than I’d ever heard him speak. “I don’t want to upset you.”
A tear escaped, and I swiped it away quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t want you to agree with everything I say unless you actually agree. If I’m pissing you off, tell me. Bottling your feelings up to avoid conflict doesn’t actually keep the peace.”
“It’s not as easy as that,” I insisted, feeling a bubble of frustration rise.
“Itis.”
He didn’tgetit. Mostly, I didn’t even realize when I was doing it. You can’t justswitch it off. When I’d ever considered voicing my own feelings, these endless waves of guilt would crash overme.
Like, if I’d told Lily the other week that I couldn’t go to the bar with her because I was exhausted, I’d have lain in bed, guilt-ridden. What kind of friend would I have been if I couldn’t show up for the one person who always showed up for me? I’d rather be tired than have Lily feel hurt or disappointed.
And that was a rare occasion when Iknewwhat I wanted.Anticipating what others wanted to hear had been my default mode for so long that I didn’t even know what I wanted or how I felt most of the time.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Luca placed his coffee cup on the table, turning to faceme.
So—what? You can see that I’m messed up? Judge me for it? What if you think I’m overreacting or just even more…spineless?
“I don’t notice I’m doing it anymore. I don’t purposefully think, ‘What would this person want me to say?’ I just naturally do it. It’s wired intome.”
His brow furrowed. “I am categorically telling you that your honesty would make me happy, Matilda.”
I just shook my head, at a loss for words.
“Just tryit.”
“What’s the point, anyway? You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to be friends. So why does it matter whether I’m being honest or not?”
He sat back for a moment and took a sip of his coffee. His eyes searched my face as if he too was looking for the reason why he cared enough to say this tome.
“It will make our partnership easier. If I know you’re being honest, it will make everything smoother. We might have a better chance at winning.”
A hollow ache spread through my chest. Why had I let the tiniest flicker of hope spark—that maybe it was because he caredfor meand not just about winning the show?
Despite the twinge of hurt, I didn’t disagree with him. But why wasIthe only one who had to change? He wasn’t exactly pulling his weight when it came to making our partnership easy.
