My cheeks are frozen by the time I make it back to my flat. Sinking onto the sofa, everything feels empty.
Dull.
The pillows are exactly where they should be. The bookshelf is clean. The bed? Made with military precision before I left for work.
Everything is exactly as I like it. Maybe if I take a short nap before dinner tonight, I’ll feel better.
Kicking off my heels and throwing my coat over the back of the sofa, I head into my room to lie down.
But it does nothing.
My mind is a whirling mess of thoughts.
I’ve tried calling my parents since bumping into them at the restaurant, but no surprise, my calls have gone unanswered.
I did everything right growing up.
Got a perfect score on every test.
Played the piano to perfection.
Was the perfect daughter anytime guests came to the house.
And yet, something about me isn’t good enough.
I lie for hours staring at the ceiling. Tears come and go as I try to stave off everything I’m feeling. Maybe dinner with Imogen and Sienna will help me see things in a better light.
Seeing that it’s nearing seven, I realise I’m going to be late. For the first time in my life.
Grabbing the first pair of shoes I find, I hurry out of my flat and hail a taxi. I fire off the address of the new restaurant and watch as the city flies by.
When the cab stops in front of the restaurant, I tap my card to the reader and hop out. There’s a line around the block, but I know Imogen was able to secure a reservation.
My friends give me funny looks as I’m shown to our table.
“What’s wrong?” The moment I sit down, Imogen and Sienna are on me.
“Why is something wrong?”
Imogen makes a dramatic show of checking her watch. “It is ten minutes after seven. You’re late.”
“Only a few minutes.” I grab my napkin and rest it on my lap.
Sienna looks at me like I have three heads. “You’re never late. On time is late for you. Actually being late? I don’t think it has ever happened.”
“Can we order drinks?” I ignore them, picking up the menu and giving it a quick scan, not really seeing anything.
“Oh, no.” Imogen takes the menu from me. “We are not ordering drinks until you tell us what is going on.”
“Nothing is going on.” I don’t sound convincing, even to myself.
“Liv, darling. Your hair is down. You are wearing black pants with navy shoes. Seriously, something is wrong with you, and now I’m worried.” Imogen scoots her chair closer to me. “What’s wrong? Did something happen with Tag?”
I burst into tears. No subtle tear sliding down my cheek. Deep, heaving sobs in the middle of the restaurant.
“Oh, Olivia.” I can’t hear whose voice tries to comfort me over the sound of my own cries.
“What happened, darling?”
