“And once again we’re off to a flying start.”
Now we’re all laughing, driven hysterical by the shambles that is my life. “Shall we just leave this to the detectives and get drunk?” I ask.
“No!” They all yell, revenge hungry and fueled up on too much caffeine.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Umm …”
“Does Alex have any angry exes?”
“Not that I know of. And how would they have known about the article I wrote, anyway?”
Divya hums. “Good point.”
I drag my hands down my face. “I am definitely missing something. It could’ve been Carmichael?”
Colette sprawls back on my bed. No one is brave enough to lie on the other one, where Sofia’s side of the room remains untouched. I’m scared that if I do so much as move the bed closer to the wall, the Ivanovs will know, somehow. “Butwhy? This whole ordeal hasn’t done wonders for his reputation, either.”
“Ophelia, don’t give up on this,” says Magda, snatching my phone out of my hand after I bring up a Sudoku app. “You deserve to have your name cleared.”
“I don’t care about my name,” I grumble, because it’s true. People can think what they want about me. I know the truth; my friends know the truth.
“If your name gets cleared, you and Alex can …” Divya trails off, an awkward silence hanging in the stale air.
“Can what? Reconvene? Pick up like nothing happened? Like his father didn’t kill my parents, like he didn’t walk out on me, like I didn’t hide that article for months? Work through the fact that we’re three thousand miles apart, and that I’d never move to the US?” My laugh is bitter on my tongue, words I’ve kept buried for weeks finally spilling over. “He left me. He blocked my number.”
“He went through a lot,” says Colette, quietly. “He’s shut everyone out, even Vincenzo.”
It’s petulant, but a flash of hurt spikes my chest. The wordsTeam Alexmight as well be flashing above her head. “Whose side are you on here?”
“I’m on Team Alex and Ophelia. The two of you. Together. He made you happy.”
The sting of tears in the corners of my eyes makes me turn away. Rummaging in my bag for anything to distract me, I pull out a crumpled paper bag, haphazardly covered in brown tape. “You guys keep brainstorming. I need to drop this off at the post office. Back in ten.”
Colette’s delicate fingers close around my biceps as I leave. She must notice the glassy sheen over my eyes, because one appears over her eyes, too. “Ophelia—”
“It’s fine. I just need some air.”
“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side.”
I nod, eyes on my boots. “I know. I just need to post this.”
Her grip on my arm vanishes. “Okay, honey.”
It’s raining when I step outside. Heavy gray rain that melts the snow into sludge. I’m too petty to go back and grab my waterproof jacket. Laura’s father’s confession tape, the final nail in Cain Green’s coffin, feels hot and heavy tucked under my arm. Though none of this played out the way I wanted, I hope it’s brought Laura some peace.
I’ve been meaning to post it back to her for weeks—I know how important it is to her. I’ve been meaning to text her, too.
I’ve been meaning to do a lot of things and failing.
Trying to move on from Alex is taking up all of my emotional strength.
As I trudge through wet snow and freezing mud, I vow to myself not to let this continue. I’ve lost my last four years to grief. I won’t find something else to grieve over now.
I need to find a hobby that isn’t being miserable.
My breath is a white cloud filtering through my chattering teeth as I hand the parcel to the woman at the small post officein the castle’s main structure. The brown paper is a little bit soggy, but it’ll do.
The rain has slowed to an icy drizzle when I leave the castle and slide my hands back into my mittens. March may be on the horizon, but winter still rules in the valley. I thought February here would be picturesque: snow-capped turrets and deer running through the frozen forest. Instead, it’s beige-gray and depressing. Leaky ceilings and single-glazed windows. Thick fog that veils the beautiful views of the Scottish Highlands.
