Back on track.

Nadia's POV.

The first thing I felt when I woke up was the ceiling spinning.

The second thing I felt was shame.

I couldn't believe I slept with a stranger. What was wrong with me?

I lay there for a while staring at the light coming through the curtains. My mouth tasted like bad decisions. My head felt like something had been hitting it from the inside.

“Nadia,” I heard my mother's voice coming from the hallway.

She pushed the door open slowly, poking her head into the room. “Are you in here?”

I groaned, adjusting myself on the bed.

She finally walked in, then stopped, staring at with eyes filled with judgement.

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

“Where were you?” She frowned.

“At that club,” I said, voice flat.

I closed my eyes.

“It's been a whole month,” she said. “You wake up, you go out, you come back like this. Every time. A whole month.”

“Mum.”

“I'm not trying to fight you, Nadia,” she said, her voice softer now. “I just need you to please not do this to yourself. Please.”

I sat up slowly. My head punished me for it.

“I don't want to talk about it,” I said.

“Nadia—”

“I said I don't want to talk about it!” I snapped.

She was quiet for a second. Then she said, “You can't keep doing this. You can't keep going to these parties and drinking yourself sick. You can't.”

I looked at her. “I can. And I will.”

Even though I regretted last night.

I just had a few drinks, so how the hell did I end up on a stranger's bed.

She flinched, like the words caught her off guard.

“Please.” She stared at me like I was something she didn't know how to fix.

Something broke a little in my chest. I looked away.

“I'm just very tired,” I said. “That's all. I'm tired.”

She didn't say anything to that. What was there to say?

She came in and sat at the edge of my bed. I didn't push her away.

After a while she said, xMy sister called.”

I said nothing.

“You remember I told you about the position in New York. The one she mentioned a few months ago.” She paused. “It came through. The job is available.”

*I'm not interested.”

“You haven't even heard what it is.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Nadia.” She turned to look at me. “You always wanted to go to medical school. You always wanted to be a doctor. You can still live that dream.”

I didn't answer.

“I know it's not a big position,” she said. "It might just be cleaning work for now. But it pays well. My sister said it pays very well. If you save for even one year—”

“I said I'm not interested.”

“You would have enough to get yourself into school. To actually start. To finally—"

“Mum. Stop!”

She stopped.

The room was quiet.

“Elijah wouldn't want you to—”

I turned so fast my head screamed.

“Don't.” My voice came out sharp and hard and I didn't try to soften it. “Don't say that name in this house. Don't say it to me. Don't.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is not the reason,” I said. “He has nothing to do with med school. I just don't want to go. That's all. I just don't want to. Can that not be enough?”

She looked at me for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.

“I can't force you,” she said. “You're not a child. I can't force you. But remember you made your dream that big.”

She stood up and left the room.

Those last words made me rethink everything.

My father died when I was seven. It was quick and we didn't spend much on him. That was what people kept saying at the funeral — at least it was quick, at least he didn't suffer. But I remembered my mother. I remembered the way she shouted at the doctors for killing my father, she kept saying they didn't try their best and all.

She kept saying If someone had fought for him, really fought, he would have made it.

And that was when it hit me, I wanted to be a doctor. I didn't want anyone to be in that position again. I didn't want anyone to lose their father again.

That was the plan. That was my plan. Long before Elijah. Long before any of it.

I looked at myself in the mirror on the wall.

I almost didn't recognise the person looking back.

My eyes were puffy. My skin was dull. My hair had given up. I looked like someone who just woke up from a ten year coma.

I looked at the room. The empty bottles I hadn't thrown out. The clothes on the floor. The curtains still half drawn in the middle of the afternoon.

My mother was right.

She was completely right and I had shouted at her anyway. She had never once in her life asked me for anything and I sat here making her stand in my doorway watching me fall apart.

I felt sick. And not just from last night, but from everything.

Elijah took my dreams away and it would just be stupid to let him keep controlling me even after our separation.

By evening the room was as sparkling as the heavens. My mother was making dinner, and by the almost burnt dish, I knew she was still worried about me.

I took my seat at the table, while my mother served me.

We ate in silence.

When the plates were cleared and she stood to take them to the kitchen I looked at her back for a moment.

“Mum.”

She stopped.

“I thought about it,” I said, wiping off the table. “There is nothing good that's going to come from wasting my time at home.”

Her face lit up. “So you're going to go to New York?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“When?”

I stopped, and turned to her. “Tomorrow.”

She froze.

“It's time to get back on track.”