登入BETTYI stare down through the sprawling glass windows at the chaotic city streets below, my fingernails nervously picking at the edge of my laptop. I debate whether I should really be handing him my grievances. But then I remember the promise I made to myself—the conscious choice to stop hiding and meet him halfway.I drag a breath into my lungs and force myself to meet his intense, waiting gaze."I've been having a hard time finding clients," I admit, my voice quieter than the hum of the restaurant. "All the prospects I had lined up are completely icing me out. I've reached out multiple times, and nothing. It all started after the Fausto ordeal. I can't help but wonder if it has something to do with that."Nathaniel’s jaw locks, the muscle feathering beneath his skin as a thick blue vein rises at his temple. He leans back against the woven rattan chair, his expression darkening."It definitely has everything to do with the Fausto ordeal," he says, his voice flat. "You were designing
BETTYThe sharp, late-afternoon wind whips across the busy sidewalk, violently tearing at the edges of my black leather half-coat. I hike Grace’s heavy overnight duffel bag higher up my shoulder, my fingers tightening in a death grip around the thick canvas strap. Beside me, Grace is waving and smiling at strangers, entirely oblivious to the absolute warzone currently raging inside my head.I should talk to her about the dangers of being too friendly with strangers. Or have her father do it. Who I am sure would do a better job instilling that fear in her than I would.Speaking of her father, it has been two weeks since the fever almost took me out. Two weeks since I found Nathaniel washing dishes in my tiny kitchen, having abandoned his empire just to nurse me back to health.After that unforgettable night, Lucy cornered me and subjected me to countless, agonizingly blunt conversations, ruthlessly stripping away my defensive excuses one by one until I was backed into a corner.I final
NATHANIELThe harsh, artificial glow of my phone screen burns in the dim light of my home office.My thumb hovers over the glass, suspended a fraction of an inch above the keyboard, and I stare at the blinking cursor.The urge to type a thousand words, to plead to see her, to drive straight to her apartment and plant myself outside her door, claws violently at the inside of my chest. And it has been like this since I left her apartment two weeks ago.That dinner had gone better than I ever anticipated. It started quietly, the three of us sitting in suffocating silence for the first ten minutes, until Lucy finally grew tired of the tension and ruthlessly dragged us down memory lane.I learned more about Betty in those thirty minutes than I had in the seven years I thought I knew her.Lucy spun stories of college parties and bar fights, painting a picture of a wild, fiercely loyal girl I had never met. But layered beneath the chaos was the quiet, brutal reality of her responsibility. Be
BETTYA low, gravelly murmur drifts through the dark, and my eyelids flutter.For a disoriented second, my exhausted brain tries to convince me I am still trapped in a fever dream. The dream where Nathaniel was here. Sitting on the very edge of this couch, the scent of his expensive cologne wrapping around me as he held a spoon to my lips.I push the thought away and take in a deep breath. It’s then I realize the air is different. The sickly-sweet smell of dying roses is gone, and it’s been replaced by a crisp night breeze that washes over my damp skin, filling my lungs with clean oxygen.I blink my eyes fully open and also can’t help but realize the blinding pressure that was crushing my skull has receded to a dull, manageable ache.My body feels too light as well. Free. When I look down, the heavy, fleece robe is gone, together with the hoodie. I am stripped down to nothing but a thin, worn-out cotton t-shirt, my sweatpants, and my socks.I swing my legs off the edge of the couch, m
The tension in my shoulders drops, and I take another step back to give her space. In the process, a massive rose thorn drives straight through the fabric of my trousers, biting violently into my calf."Fuck," I hiss, stumbling sideways. "We really need to get rid of these." I bend over, aggressively rubbing the stinging prick on my leg, and when I look up, the sight knocks the breath straight out of my lungs.Betty is chuckling. It’s a weak, raspy sound that quickly devolves into a cough, but the corners of her eyes remain crinkled.I straighten up, completely stunned. "That was funny to watch, huh?"She coughs into her hand, hiding her mouth, shaking her head. "You brought that on yourself. Who buys two thousand, five hundred, and fifty-five roses?" Her tone carries a sharp, dry hint of sarcasm, but as she lowers her hand, I see a small, genuine smile break across her pale face.I should feel insulted by the jab, but I don't. She laughed. At my expense, sure, but she laughed. And it
NATHANIELMy gaze pulls away from the roses down to Betty, and she is now leaning against my side, looking at the roses. She then tilts her head up to look at me, and her expression is perfectly blank, but her glossy eyes scream exactly what she doesn't have the breath to say: "Yeah. A bit much, isn't it?"”I know.” That’s all I say before I carefully step over a pile of wilting petals and walk her to the couch.I ease her down onto the cushions and snatch the heavy throw blanket that had slipped off the couch and drape it over her trembling shoulders, tucking the edges firmly up to her neck.She doesn't speak, but her glassy green eyes track my every movement, her expression tight and completely guarded, as if she expects me to disappear at any time—or worse, as if she wishes I would.Before the silence can crush the remaining oxygen in the room, I turn sharply."The bags." My heavy boots crush some of the roses into the hardwood as I stride back to the front door, thorns violently s
BETTYI’ve been avoiding Rhys since the day he found me at the cemetery.The way his arms wrapped around me, and how I clung to him longer than I should have, hasn’t left my mind since.He didn’t pull away. He didn’t say a word. He just let me stay there, quietly breaking against him, and it didn’t
BETTYMy fingers wrap around the coffee cup, trying to siphon warmth from it, but the chill still clings to my skin.The cold this morning feels sharper, like the world itself is bracing for something.I am sitting by the window of a small coffee shop downtown, the scent of roasted beans and vanill
BETTYI can’t bring myself to go back home yet, probably because I’m still riding the strange high from the meeting I just had with Amanda.There is something else I need to do first, something I’ve been avoiding for far too long, and because for the first time in a long while I feel like I’m done
BETTYAfter a full day of dust, drills, and paint samples, I still feel like the construction site clings to my skin.My fingers smell faintly of fresh cement and marker ink, and my back aches from leaning over blueprints all day.I should have gone home to shower, but Lucy can be very persuasive.S







