Chapter 15
Sky
I take a moment to compose myself. I exhale slowly, shoulders squared, and step around the corner. The disposable coat rustles, and the scent of the sanitizer I just used on my hands fades with each step toward the hospital bed.
I pause at the foot of the bed. "Hello, Father," I whisper softly, though it feels somewhat foolish since not even a rocket launch in the misty park outside his window would rouse him. His chest rises and falls, and the machines beep. He lies on his back, his head gently resting on a pillow, his hands at his sides.
Perhaps it's unnecessary, but I smile at him. "It's me, Sky." June explained earlier that you never really know how much a coma patient perceives of their surroundings. He definitely can't see my smile, but maybe he can hear it, hidden beneath the worry that fills my voice.
"I hope you don't mind me stopping by. I thought I'd tell you a bit about the outside world. What has happened in the past two days, and..." I should addwhat I've managed to mess up in such a short time, but the words won't come out.
Even in his current state, I can't tell him how harshly our fashion show has been criticized in the trendiest fashionmagazines. Filled with wild speculations about whether the chaos atTouch av lyxhas erupted due to his accident.
At least they don't know about Stig's death. So far, it has not yet become public that he was also in the car during the accident.
I cautiously circle the bed, fetch a chair, and place it as close as possible to his side.
"I was in Milan to represent you at Fashion Week," I tell him. "Stig asked me to do it. He said it would be fine with you," I quickly add. I don't want him to think I'm trying to take over. "It was incredibly beautiful." Despite the fact that the employees didn't make it easy for me, it truly was.
I could finally breathe in the world of modeling again. Before going backstage in Milan, I didn't realize how much I had missed all of this.
"The hustle, the bustle, the tension," I say dreamily. "The flowing fabrics, delicate embellishments, creative combinations."
I immerse myself in the memory, feeling the cool silk of the blouse worn by model number fifteen and smelling the cottony scent of the suit worn by model number three. I run my fingers over the floral embroidery of the spring dress, feeling the delicate raised patterns, tracing the design.
A sigh escapes my lips. "It was like coming home after a long journey." Yes, that's exactly how it felt. Before the problems began.
I gaze at my father's lifeless face. How would he react to my words if he could?
You shouldn't be here, he might grumble, just as he did on my last visit.
"But I want to be here. For you. And forTouch av lyx," I insist because this matter is too important to me. "What happened back then will never happen again, I swear it to you."
You had your chance, my father replies in my imagination.Now go, it's better for everyone, and you know it.
If he were conscious, I wouldn't dare to do this, but now I reach for his hand. "I know you're ashamed of me." In that, he's not alone; I am too. "Back then, I wasn't myself. Please, you have to believe me!"
Father's expression remains blank.And whose fault was that?his disappointed voice asks me inside my head.
Mine. We both know that; I don't need to say it. And there's no point in seeking excuses because they're all untrue. I let Levi charm me. Thanks to all the stars in my eyes, I couldn't see anything anymore. I couldn't think rationally because of all the emotions.
"That's in the past," I assure Father with a firm voice. "Today, I am so much stronger than I was back then."
It has to be that way.
No matter how much Kjell confused me. And no matter how significant his presence felt the night before yesterday. No matter how liberating it was to joke with him and no matter how strong the connection was between us. It neither made me lose sight of my goal nor did it make me break my promise.
Besides, it's over now. He has completed his mission, and if I ask Lil to take over the selection of the photos for the photo shoot, I won't see him again.
For a split second, my heart unnecessarily tightens.
No wonder Father's voice in my head is silent. He doesn't believe me, and that's okay. I wouldn't trust myself in his place either.
"When you wake up, you won't have to believe it any longer. You'll know it." Because I will provide evidence he can't dismiss.
We'll see. In my imagination, he sounds tired.
Uncertainly, I stroke his hand. There's another reason I came.
