All I can think is how every word is a scar she’s learned to wear.
I keep going, slow and careful, making sure every petal is perfect. By the time I start shading, April is calm, breathing steady.
She peeks down once, eyes wide. I cover the work with a gloved hand, smirking.
“No cheating.”
She gives me the tiniest smile.
When I’m done, I wipe the blood and ink away. Debora storms up, heels stabbing the floor. “Is it done? Let’s see the masterpiece.”
I turn April toward the mirror, peeling the bandage back slowly so she can see.
She immediately freezes.
Where the humiliation should’ve been, there’s a spray of Lilyes…delicate, intricate, soft as a whisper. Every line is designed to let her skin shine.
April touches her hip, fingers trembling.
“It’s…beautiful.”
Debora’s pitch spikes. “That isn’t…what the fuck?”
Branda flushes red. “We paid for a joke tattoo. You screwed us.”
I yank off my gloves, pissed off.
“You want your money back? Take it.” I shove the bills at them. “I’m not humiliating anyone in my shop. Want to make someone cry? Try a therapist next time.”
Debora bares her teeth. “You think you’re funny? People talk. We’ll tell everyone how you treat customers.”
I shrug. “Go for it. My clients come here for art, not trash.”
Branda hisses at April, venom laced in her voice. “Hope you’re happy, princess. You just ruined our whole damn morning.”
April flinches.
I step between them, blocking the hate.
Debora flips me off, spits out “loser,” and they’re gone, door slamming behind them.
Silence.
April stands in front of the mirror, fingers tracing the Lilyes like she can’t believe any of this is real.
I clean up, glancing up at her every other second.
She doesn’t move.
Finally, she turns, tears shining in her eyes. “I don’t know what they told you to do, but…why didn’t you just go along with what they wanted? Why did you do this for me?”
Her voice is tiny, hope tangled up in the question.
I clear my throat, the words thick. “Nobody deserves that shit. Especially not someone as beautiful as you.”
She blushes, looking away, but her smile lingers.
I wash up, hands tingling. She’s still in front of the mirror, tracing the Lilyes like she can’t let herself believe it.
