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I refused to eat in silence, always telling him about my life.
The mother that never was. The father that was—but I could never get enough of. The loneliness.
Seoul. Fencing. Olympic dreams.
How I missed my old life. The one in Asia, far away from my evil stepsisters and stepmother.
He sat there and drank it all in. Like he had to endure human interaction.
Sometimes, when I made myself laugh, he actually recoiled.
Zachary Sun was barely human.
For me to fix him, I had to make him real.
The night before my birthday, I decided to sleep over at Zach’s home.
Guess I’d become addicted to the small indulgences of his many guest rooms. The sprawling firm mattress. The plush pillows. The large dressing table. And the scent of fresh flowers and decorative candles that wafted from every corner.
The chef kept the fridge stocked, and lately, that somehow included things I loved to eat.
Zach left me to my own devices, busy hiding from me then seeking me out spontaneously.
For the first time in nearly two years, I had a long, uninterrupted sleep. No Vera to yell at me to do the dishes. Nor Tabby and Reggie to whine for me to cook breakfast.
Just… peace.
I woke up to delicious silence, blinking my eyes open.
You’re twenty-three.
Congratulations. You made it another year.
Much to your so-called family’s chagrin.
I allowed myself twenty-three seconds to mourn my fencing career. Valentina Vezzali had two Olympic medals by this age.
Every day, my biological clock ticked down. It probably didn’t matter. Showing up at a competition would be shameless.
Next, I flicked the bridge of my nose until I smelled nothing, then spent two minutes convincing myself a waft of Dad’s signature birthday confetti pancakes had drifted by.
I missed them.
I missedhim.
And finally, for no logical reason whatsoever, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and checked the messages.
Disappointment tickled my tear ducts when I clicked open my last messages with Dad and found no new ones. He used to leave me a long text every birthday morning, full of affirmations.
By afternoon, I’d arrive to my dorm to a basket full of goodies.
I reread his last texts, though I already had them inked in my brain in permanent marker.
Dad:
Remember Ms. Langer?
Farrow:
