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MY UNDOING 078
MACEY I was fuming. Actually, no—I was beyond fuming. I was vibrating. I wanted to push Zinna off my property, shove her back into her fancy car, and tell her never to show up at my door again. Seeing her standing there like she had every right to breathe the same air as me after everything she had said and done? My blood boiled. She lifted a hand in the smallest, weakest wave. “Hi, Macey.” I laughed. Loud. Sharp. Bitter enough to sting my own throat. “Keep your hi to yourself, Zinna. Why are you here?” She swallowed, blinking fast, like she hadn’t expected me to come out swinging. Like she thought I’d open the door and melt, or politely fold into myself like I used to at the office. Not today. “Can we go in?” she asked softly. “Maybe talk inside?” I raised a brow so high it practically touched my hairline. “Really? You’re serious right now?” She winced. Actually winced. The great Zinna Blackwell, queen of composure and perfectly iced-out reactions, flinched like I’d slappe
MY UNDOING 077
MACEY The drive to Dr. Hale’s office felt longer than usual, even though it was barely twenty minutes from my apartment. Maybe it was the way the sky looked—gray and heavy, like it knew exactly what kind of emotional mess I was showing up with. Or maybe it was me. Probably me. I parked, gathered my bag, and tried to pull myself together before walking inside. I’d been doing therapy long enough to know she could see right through that, but whatever. I needed the illusion of control, even if it lasted only between the parking lot and her doorway. Her office smelled like lavender and some expensive candle I could never pronounce. Calm. Too calm. As always, Dr. Hale sat in her usual armchair, legs crossed, a soft smile on her face that made me feel both safe and exposed. “Good morning, Macey,” she said. “Morning,” I murmured, sinking into the couch that had now heard more of my emotional disasters than any living person. Honestly, it deserved some kind of award. Or rent. Or at leas
MY UNDOING 076
ZINNA I knew something was wrong the moment Damien stepped into my apartment. I had never seen him look like that before. Damien was the stable one. The solid one. The man who didn’t crumble, even when everything around him was falling apart. So when he broke down in my arms earlier, really broke down, I felt the ground shift under my feet. That wasn’t just sadness. That was grief. That was heartbreak. That was my big brother holding on to me because he had nothing else to hold on to. And it scared me. It really did. It made everything inside me twist because I wasn’t used to seeing him like that, and I hated that I couldn’t fix it instantly the way I fixed everything else. When he left, my apartment suddenly felt too quiet. Too still. And I stood there staring at the door, feeling this odd, heavy pressure in my chest. Damien wasn’t supposed to hurt like that. He didn’t deserve to be that broken. He didn’t deserve the confusion, the sadness, or the guilt he was drowning in.
MY UNDOING 075
DAMIEN For a second, she did not say anything. She only looked at me like she wasn’t sure if I was real. I probably looked like hell. My eyes were burning, my shoulders were tight, and I could feel that stupid pinch in my throat I kept trying to swallow down. “Hey,” she said again, softer than usual. I nodded because I did not trust my voice. The second I stepped inside, she reached forward and pulled me into a hug. I hesitated, stiff at first, but when her arms wrapped fully around me, something inside me just broke. I let my forehead rest against her shoulder as quietly as I could. She rubbed my back slowly, like she used to do when we were kids and I had nightmares. It was embarrassing in a way, but right now I could not care. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay. Just breathe.” I tried. I genuinely tried. I thought I was holding it together well enough, but then I felt one single tear fall. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. But Zinna felt it. I knew she did because
MY UNDOING 074
DAMIEN I tried to drive home. I really did. I even made it halfway down the street before my hands tightened on the wheel in a way that told me I was fooling myself. Everything inside me felt wrong. Leaving Macey the way I left her felt like I had walked out of a burning building and left someone I loved inside. My chest was tight. My mind was racing. She was not fine. Anyone could see she was not fine. The moment she walked out of that conversation with her mother, her entire energy had crashed. She was quiet, withdrawn, and distant in a way that made me feel helpless. And I hated feeling helpless. I slowed the car, glancing at my rearview mirror like it held the answer to everything that was wrong between us. I could still see the faint outline of her apartment building in my mind. Something was not right. Something had broken inside her tonight, and if I let her sit alone with that kind of pain, I would never forgive myself. I pulled a sharp turn and went back. The clos
MY UNDOING 073
MACEY “What do you mean by that, Mom?” I asked, staring at her like she had suddenly started speaking another language. The look she gave me made my stomach twist. Her eyes were sharp, frustrated, and full of the kind of disappointment only a mother could weaponize without even trying. It made me feel smaller than I wanted to admit. She folded her arms, sighing loudly. “Macey, do not act like you do not understand what I mean. I thought you were seeing a therapist.” I blinked at her, confused. “Of course I am. I never stopped seeing her. Things are getting better. She said the sessions were helping, and she said I have been opening up more. I feel better.” My mother gave this slow, tired shake of her head, like she had been waiting for me to say something exactly like that. “Feeling better is not the same as doing better, Macey.” I stared at her. “What does that even mean?” “It means,” she said carefully, “that you are doing something that is dragging you backward. You are dra
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