The entire evening had been an overwhelming mess. My anger had dissipated and was replaced with exhaustion.
I am so tired of this.
All the times I had done things to please my mum, it still hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t just things I had done but things I had missed. I had missed out on things I enjoyed because of a job I hated. I was too exhausted to keep doing this.
My eyes burned, a blinding ache forming behind my temples from the attempt to hold back tears. One traitor escaped but I swiped it away and held my head high.
My mother shook her head. “Don’t make me feel bad, Matilda. I didn’t say it to make you upset.”
Another knife to the chest.
Ihatedknowing I had upset her, but Luca was right. My mother’s happiness wasn’t my responsibility. This was my life, not hers. He made me feel like I could stand on my own, helped me see that my worth wasn’t tied to making other people happy, and offered more unconditional support than I’d ever got from my family.
“Well, dinner is ruined.” Lauren narrowed her eyes at me. “I’ve lost my appetite. Mum, do you want me to help you clear away?”
“Yes, please.” Our mother sniffled.
I snatched my plate and pressed a quick kiss to Taylor’s cheek.“Sorry about this, sweetie. I’ll speak to you next week.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more.”
I darted into the kitchen, not wanting to stay there a second longer, and hurriedly loaded my plate into the dishwasher.
My heart pounded, and as soon as I was out of their sight line, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I pushed out of the back door and pulled out my phone to call an Uber.
There were no fucking Ubers in the area. I leaned against the wall and tipped my head to the dark sky, a strangled sob escaping.
I considered calling Lily, but I didn’t want to pull her away from a dance class. More than that, calling Lily didn’t feelright—I loved her, but she wasn’t the one I needed in that moment.
I wanted Luca.
Glancing through the window, I saw my mother and sister were animatedly talking in the kitchen, shaking their heads as they poured themselves another glass of wine.
I covered my mouth, hoping to calm the sobs. Before second-guessing myself, I called Luca.
He answered on the second ring.
“Matilda, are you OK?” His words were measured but filled with concern.
“Um, yeah.” I attempted to steady my voice. “Sorry to call. Are you busy? Could you p-pick me up, p-please?”
“Of course. What happened? Where are you?” A shuffling sounded through the phone, alongside a jingle of keys.
“I’m at my parents’,” I whispered.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Matilda…”
“Is it a pain to come and get me? All the Ubers are busy, and Ineed to get out of here and—”
“Stop. I am coming right now—” His voice grew distant momentarily as he mumbled to someone, “I’ll be right back.” Who was he speaking to? Did he havecompany?
The knot in my throat tightened. “Oh my god, are you busy? It’s honestly—”
