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“Forget it, Grace. Bran likes to keep his relationships to himself.” Mum laughs. “Maybe one day we’ll get to meet your special someone, hon.”
Fat chance.
“So, Bran.” Grace leans forward in her seat. “I’m sure Astrid told you, but I’m officially considering signing you. Can you make time for us to discuss this further? Preferably in the studio, where I can see your recent work.”
“How about Glyn?” I ask.
She continues sipping her rosé wine. “Glyn is still too young and is in the process of developing her style. I’ll wait a few years before I move on to her. Let’s focus on you now.”
“Isn’t that exciting?” Mum grins at me. “We can do exhibitions together in the future.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Grace agrees. “In fact, depending on what I see, I think we might be able to slip a painting or two into your upcoming exhibition.”
“Oh my God. You can do that?”
“It’s not an easy feat, but I can make it happen for you both.”
“Bran? What do you think?” She smiles so big, it makes me sick to my stomach. “Lev, hon, we need to open a bottle of champagne.”
He gauges my expression. “Are you ready to take this step, son?”
“I…need to think about it.” I dab my lips with the napkin and stand up on slightly unsteady feet. “I have to work on an assignment. Please enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
I walk out of the dining room with a calm I don’t feel. Instead of going to the studio, I take the stairs and head to my room.
As soon as I’m inside, I fall on the bed headfirst and wish I could suffocate myself with the fucking pillow.
Black ink creeps over me, pushing weight on my back until I’m panting for air.
I reach underneath the pillow and snatch my Swiss Army knife, then yank away my watch and hold the blade against my wrist.
One cut. A small one.
I just need to breathe.
I want to fuckingbreathe.
My phone vibrates and I startle. When I see the name lighting the screen, I let the knife fall to the mattress.
Nikolai.
The more the phone vibrates, the harder I breathe, scrabbling, fighting for air that doesn’t exist. My trembling finger hovers over the screen like every time he calls, but like always, I don’t answer.
One missed call appears on the screen.
Then, as usual, a text follows.
Nikolai
Answer the fucking phone.
I open his texts and flip onto my back to read them, inhaling deeply, holding it in my churning stomach, then puffing out the air in a long, shaky exhale.
Little by little, I can feel the ink retreating to the shadows, even if its invisible hands are still strangling my cursed wrist.
I scroll up, reading all the texts he’s sent since I left the island after I made sure Lan’s wrist was safe.
At that time, I needed to get away from it all and figured being with my parents was the perfect solution.
