Chapter Thirty Two

Catherine's Pov

Three Weeks Ago

I love my parents. I really do.

But sometimes, they make decisions about my life without even asking me—especially when they think they’re “helping.”

“I’m not going.” I snapped, glaring at Mom. My chest felt tight. “I’m not.”

She froze for a second, then softened and reached for my hands.

I pulled away.

Too close. Too much. I couldn’t breathe.

“Catherine,” she said gently, “you haven’t been the same since Dominic went missing. You’ve changed. You barely talk. You barely eat. You look tired all the time.”

I scoffed. “So? That doesn’t mean I’m broken.”

“It means you’re hurting,” she replied. “And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. That’s why I booked the session.”

My laugh came out sharp.

“A therapist?” I shook my head. “Wow. Okay. So now I’m a problem that needs fixing?”

“That’s not what I—”

“It’s always like this,” I cut in. “You decide things for me and expect me to just agree.”

She opened her mouth again, but the words rushed out of me first.

“It’s funny,” I said, my voice trembling, “how you suddenly care now. Where was this concern when I was fine on my own? When I was learning to survive without you? Without anyone?”

“Catherine…”

“Mom.” My voice broke. “Mom, please.”

Tears burned my eyes. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m not falling apart. Just… leave me alone.”

I wasn’t fine

.

I knew that.

But saying it out loud felt like admitting I was weak.

I jumped off the bed and leaned against the wall, pressing my palms to my temples. My heart was racing. Too fast. Too loud.

I hated it.

“Catherine,” Mom whispered.

I felt her hands on my arms.

“Breathe, baby,” she said softly. “Just breathe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

I closed my eyes.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

But all I could see was Dominic’s face in that hospital bed.

Pale.

And the thought that I almost lost him… because of me.

“Catherine.” Mom called softly.

Then she took a deep breath.

When she looked at me again, her eyes were shiny, serious in a way that made my throat tighten instantly.

“Baby… I’m sorry I haven’t always been there,” she said. “Even when you needed me, I was busy with clients, chasing deadlines, thinking I had time.” Her voice wavered. “But I love you so much. You’re my miracle.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, like she was embarrassed to be crying in front of me.

My chest hurts.

I sniffed and tried to pull back before she could completely break me. Before she could guilt-trip me into sitting in front of some stranger and explaining how messed up I felt while they nodded like they understood

.

“I don’t need a therapist,” I muttered.

She smiled weakly. “You know… I once dated a really toxic guy. He messed me up so badly, I couldn’t even eat for days.”

I stared at her and then rolled my eyes.

“Mom. You’ve only ever dated Dad.”

She laughed softly. “I might have lied.”

Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips.

It faded quickly.

“I still don’t want to see a therapist,” I said quietly.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. Okay,” she agreed. “No therapist.”

Relief washed over me.

“But,” she added gently, “at least eat something for me. Please.”

I hesitated.

Then sighed.

“…Okay.”

Days passed.

I stopped counting them.

Sleep became something I crawled into after sunrise, when my body finally gave up on fighting my thoughts. Every morning—or maybe afternoon, I wasn’t even sure anymore—a soft knock would sound on my door.

Then Mom’s face would appear, careful and worried, holding a tray of food I barely touched.

“Eat something, baby,” she’d whisper.

Sometimes I did.

Most times, I just stared at it until she left.

Little by little, the thoughts of Dominic stopped crashing into me every second.

They didn’t disappear. They just learned how to wait quietly in the corners of my mind, ready to attack when I was weakest.

Alice was the only one allowed to visit.

Not that many people tried.

I was “popular,” everyone said that. But popularity didn’t mean real friends. It just meant people knew your name.

And now… they knew I was broken.

The cheerleading squad had already chosen someone else.

So had Asher.

So had Dominic.

Life didn’t pause just because I was falling apart.

That realization sat heavy in my chest.

The suffocating feeling returned, thick and familiar. My throat tightened as tears burned behind my eyes.

I sucked in a shaky breath, hugging my knees.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t—

A knock sounded.

I reached for a tissue and hurriedly dabbed at my eyes.

Too late.

The door opened.

Mom stepped in before I could hide it.

Her eyes moved slowly over me—my swollen lids, the tear stains on my cheeks, the way I was curled into myself like I was trying to disappear into the mattress.

“Catherine,” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, but my voice cracked before I could stop it.

She walked in and set the tray of food on my desk. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Mom?” I frowned. “What are you doing?”

She was already dialing. “Calling your father.”

“Why?” I sat up. “He’s working.”

“He can cancel,” she replied without looking at me.

The call connected almost immediately.

“Where are you?” she asked. Then, after a pause, “With a client? Cancel it.”

I stared at her.

“Mom—”

She raised a finger at me, still listening to the call. “No, I’m serious. Our daughter hasn’t left her bed in days. She barely eats. She cries when she thinks I’m not looking.”

My chest tightened.

“I’m looking at her right now,” she continued, her voice steady but strained. “She’s not okay.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then she nodded slowly. “Good. Drive home. Now.”

She ended the call and turned to me.

“You’re seeing someone today.”

I shook my head immediately. “Mom, I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” she cut in firmly. “You almost lost someone you love, Catherine. And I’m not losing you too.”

My throat burned.

She picked up the spoon from the tray and held it out to me. “Eat first. Two bites. Then we go.”

I hesitated, then took it. My hands were shaking, even though I tried to hide it.