22. Nessa

The weight of their stares is almost too much to bear. No one's saying anything about my decision to go home for good, but the silent exchanges among them speak volumes. Even the guys are glancing my way, their curiosity mixed with something I can't quite place. It reminds me of that uneasy feeling of returning to school after being out sick when everyone looks at you like you're some kind of a spectacle.

I've been doing my best to ignore it all for the last few hours, but their silent, pressing questions aren't letting up. I realize there's no way I'll make it through the flight back without addressing it. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to break the silence before their unspoken queries drive me to the edge.

Resigning myself to confront the situation head-on, I focus on Eva, the one I've always found easiest to talk to. "What is it?" I finally ask, breaking the tense silence that has enveloped us.

Eva hesitates, her concern evident as she bites her lip. "I'm just… surprised by your decision. We all thought you were going to stay," she admits with a hint of sadness.

Poppy jumps in, echoing Eva's sentiment. "We all did," she says, and I can feel the collective weight of their stares, making the air around me feel thick and heavy.

I shake my head, trying to clear the tension. "It was never going to work," I state, more to convince myself than them.

"But why not?" The question hangs in the air, a silent plea for a better explanation.

I let out a sarcastic chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, though my heart isn't in it. "It's not a Cinderella story," I retort, the bitterness in my voice surprising even me.

Their looks of concern deepen, their confusion and disappointment mingling in the air. It's clear they're struggling to understand my decision just as much as I'm struggling to justify it to myself.

"So? Sometimes it makes no sense on paper…" Eva tries to make a point, her words trailing off as she grapples with how to express her thoughts.

Cole, ever the protective man, gently wraps his arm around her, offering a kiss to her temple before turning his attention back to me. "We don't make sense to a lot of people, but I couldn't imagine my life without her," he says, his words filled with conviction.

I exhale deeply, filled with frustration and longing. "That's nice for you. But you're not a king."

Cole raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "How dare you? Eva declares me the king of orgasms every night," he retorts with a proud smirk.

Eva's quick to reprimand him, a playful slap landing on his arm. "You stop!" she chides, though a blush creeps across her cheeks.

Their banter, so light and carefree, draws a genuine laugh from me—the first since my heart-wrenching conversation with Alexander's adviser.

I try to rationalize my decision to them and perhaps more to myself. "It was never supposed to be serious, you know. Liam—Alexander—or whatever, wasn't looking for commitment, and I have my own path to follow." The words taste bitter, an attempt to convince myself as much as them.

The tension that follows tells me they understand, or at least they accept my reasoning. They know, as I do, that a fairy tale ending isn't always realistic.

But there's more I wish I could explain—that staying isn't just about us. It's about the external factors—the pressures and expectations that neither love nor determination can always overcome. His world, with its advisers, its traditions, and its relentless public eye, isn't just challenging; it's potentially suffocating.

I know in my heart that this decision, painful as it is, is the right one. To leave now, with love still untarnished by the inevitable hardships and public scrutiny, feels like the only way to preserve what we have, no matter how fleeting. Walking away with the bittersweet "what could have beens" is a form of self-preservation, a way to hold on to the love and memories without the added weight of regret and what could inevitably turn into resentment.

I turn toward the window, looking at the endless sky, and as if life wanted to offer me a small reprieve, I fall asleep.

Once back home, I decide it's time to compartmentalize everything that happened and move forward. It's a coping mechanism I've mastered over the years; not necessarily the healthiest, but effective for me. My routine becomes my anchor: preparing for the upcoming academic year, transitioning from the emptiness of my apartment to the studio where I dance and immerse myself in the job hunt for September.

Ditching my headphones, I no longer feel the need to shield myself from the world or pretend in any way. My deafness isn't something to hide or be ashamed of. If people choose to see that as my defining feature, that's on them, not me.

During a job interview at a local sandwich shop close to campus, the older lady assessing me scans me from head to toe. My gothic style has mellowed; I still embrace dark colors, but I'm no longer using my appearance as armor.

"Well, I'm deaf, so it might be challenging if I'm not in direct eye contact with customers. I'd prefer working in the back, preparing sandwiches, but I'm adaptable if needed," I explain to her when addressing the job's requirements.

She nods, jotting down notes. "That's good to know for scheduling."

Her acceptance prompts me to ask, "Does this mean I have the job?"

"On a trial basis, yes. Be here tomorrow at nine. You haven't worked in this field before; actually, you haven't worked at all, so I just need to see that you can stick to a schedule and follow instructions."

Grateful, I stand. "Thank you. You won't regret this."

Her smile is reassuring, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact. "I'm sure I won't. See you tomorrow."

The interaction leaves me feeling unexpectedly validated. There was no awkward dance around my deafness, no veiled pity—just straightforward communication, a stark contrast to the attitudes I've encountered with my family and their acquaintances. As I walk away, frustration toward my family surfaces, reinforced by the freedom I've felt since distancing myself from their overbearing influence.

I have barely heard from them since Liam's rescue mission in California, and, all in all, I feel so much better for it.

Those thoughts, once sweet, now carry a tinge of pain, reminding me of what I've chosen to leave behind. My resolve to not think about him is tested daily. Every small success—like getting this job—feels bittersweet because I instinctively want to share it with him, to hear his encouragement or see the pride in his eyes.

But then I remember why I made this decision. I want to text him, though, and ask him how he's doing, but it feels wrong. I broke his heart when I walked away, and it is not his responsibility to ease my aching guilt and my doubts.

I'm taken aback when I find Eva and Poppy at the apartment when I get home.

"Hi?" I try with a frown. "What are you girls doing here?"

"We live here."

I roll my eyes and plop on the sofa across from them. "On paper, maybe, but…" I point to Eva. "You're a married woman, and your husband is a whiny bitch if you leave his bed just for one night."

"He is," Poppy confirms, and Eva rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it.

"As for you, you're looking for properties with Ethan, and you've not slept here at all in the week we've been back." I narrow my eyes at them. "I'm suspecting an intervention." My tone is only somewhat serious; bracing for whatever reason has brought them back to our shared space so suddenly.

Eva gives me a look that's equal parts exasperation and affection. "Maybe it is," she admits, a soft seriousness settling over her features.

Poppy nods in agreement, her gaze steady on me. "We're worried about you, Nessa. You've been… distant since we got back. And we know why, but you haven't really talked about it."

The mention of my distance and the reason behind it tightens something in my chest. It's true; I've been keeping my feelings about leaving Liam and the entire ordeal tightly locked away, hoping if I don't acknowledge them, they might somehow dissipate on their own.

Eva leans forward, her look gentle. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know. We're here for you, no matter what."

The sincerity in her words and the concerned looks they're both giving me crack the facade I've been trying so hard to maintain. They know me too well and understand the turmoil I've been trying to hide beneath a front of normalcy.

"I just… It's hard," I confess, the words feeling heavy and inadequate to express the emotions I've been navigating. "Thinking about him, about what I walked away from—it hurts. And I keep telling myself it was the right decision for both of us, but it doesn't make it any easier."

Poppy reaches over to squeeze my hand, a silent show of support. "It's okay to hurt, Nessa. It's okay to miss him. But you made a choice based on what you felt was best. That takes courage."

"But you think I made a mistake?" I can see it in their eyes.

Poppy looks at Eva, who shrugs.

"Honestly? I don't know," Eva admits. "I mean, dealing with the whole royalty aspect, it's overwhelming. Your situation with Liam—it's uncharted territory for most of us. Just dealing with the attention from being with Cole is intense," she laughs lightly, gesturing to her extravagant rings. "These could buy my dad's house. So I can only imagine your feelings."

"I love him, I really do. It's just… there's this constant chorus of voices saying we're wrong for each other. Being with me, I know it's only going to make his life more complicated."

Eva nods, acknowledging the truth in my words. "It may be true, but at the heart of it, it's about being with someone you love despite the complications. Whether it's a king or a stupid billionaire, the principle is the same. It's about figuring out if you can handle the extras that come with the person."

Poppy chimes in, "And if those extras are worth it. You left because you thought they weren't right for you, or at least, that's what you felt at the moment. And that's okay, Nessa. It's okay to protect your peace."

But my own insecurities bubble to the surface, casting long shadows over their supportive words. "It's not just that," I admit, my voice tinged with a vulnerability I seldom show. "I keep picturing the future, afraid he'll realize I'm not what he wants after all. What if it's all just passion, and it fades? I'm scared he'll resent being stuck with me."

The girls are silent for a few moments, like they can't understand my words.

"How can you even think that? Don't you see how amazing you are? You deserve love and happiness, Nessa. If anything, Liam should be the one pinching himself, wondering why you chose him!" Eva responds fervently.

Eva's words strike a chord, giving me a fleeting sense of worth that battles the insecurities shadowing my heart. But it's Poppy who brings me back to the crossroads I'm standing at. "But you've got to do what you feel is right," she reminds me gently, her words a soft echo of my own thoughts.

"I think I need some time to see how things pan out with us being apart," I confess with a nod, trying to mask the fear that this separation will only confirm I have no place in his life. The idea that after a month without me, I'll become just a memory for him.

If that's the case, then it's because it was never meant to be. This is a mantra I repeat to dim the ache of missing him. Still, in those quiet hours of the night when sleep refuses to come, I can't help but wonder about the life that might have been if I'd chosen to stay.

Breaking into my thoughts, Eva brings the conversation back to the present. "Anyway, that's not why we're here," she says, trying to lighten the mood.

I can't help but be skeptical. "Really?" I ask, one eyebrow raised.

"Okay, fine. It's not the only reason we're here. We've been overdue for a girls' night, what with the wedding and everything…" she concedes with a playful eye roll.

Her words do their magic, lifting the heavy cloud that's been hanging over me. The prospect of spending quality time with my friends, just letting go and having fun, is exactly what I need. "No rom-coms," I hastily add, not ready to face anything that might remind me of my own love story.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Poppy assures me, already scrolling through her phone for our movie night options. "There are a few new horror films streaming. We can pick one. We're staying the night, so we might as well get a good scare in together."

The memory of us all huddled together in Eva's bed after watching Annabelle, too scared to sleep alone, brings a genuine laugh to my lips. For tonight, at least, I can immerse myself in the comforting presence of my friends, finding solace in our shared laughter and screams. It's a welcome distraction, a way to momentarily push aside the what-ifs and maybes and just be.

Life's been on autopilot these past two weeks, steering clear of Danish news like it's a craving I can't give in to. Every day, it gets tougher not to check up on Alexander, to stop myself from just texting him. It's my own decision to walk away that keeps me from doing so, knowing too well that reaching out could end in heartache. He could ignore me, which would hurt, or we could end up just friends, which somehow feels worse. Or he might still be hung up on me, making everything more complicated for both of us.

There's no scenario where getting in touch seems right, but damn, do I miss him. Not just the romance but him. The person. I keep wanting to share the little things, like how I got this job at a sandwich shop, and I'm actually enjoying it. It's straightforward work, but there's something satisfying about it. Ms. Mina and my colleagues are great; they don't fuss over me being deaf. Alexander was right—not everyone's going to make my deafness the only thing about me.

But here I am, trying to keep him out of my thoughts, focusing instead on the job and the bits of new normalcy I'm carving out for myself. It's a thin line to walk, missing him yet trying to move on, all while holding on to the reasons why I left.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost jump out of my skin when I find Cole stationed right outside my apartment door.

I can't help but frown at his unexpected presence. "Your wife isn't here. Did you do something stupid again?"

Cole arches an eyebrow, a hint of offense in his demeanor. "Why do people always assume I'm to blame? You know what, don't answer that," he quickly adds, cutting me off before I can even speak. "My wife is at her violin class, just so you're aware, and she's quite happy and satisfied," he says, the edge of his smile carrying a mischievous gleam. "Also, I have the key, and I thought you'd appreciate me not using it. Didn't think it was okay anymore."

Shaking my head, I can't resist the jab. "It was never okay."

He just shrugs, an unbothered gesture, as I unlock the door and step inside, knowing full well he'll follow. "I assume you're here to pick up the rest of Eva's stuff? Just leave the key when you leave," I call over my shoulder.

But he steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. "No, actually, I came to talk to you."

"To me?" I point at myself, puzzled. "I— Why?"

His response throws me for a loop. "See me as your fairy godmother or some shit."

I can't help but laugh, taking a step back to give him a once-over. "I have to say, I'm not sure you'd look good in tights and a tiara."

He doesn't miss a beat, snorting with laughter. "Girl, please. I look fucking fabulous in everything." With a dramatic wave of his hand, he gets to the heart of the matter. "The thing is, Eva told me not to meddle, that I'm only good at creating havoc and stirring shit."

"Okay… I don't see any lie in this statement," I admit, struggling to keep a straight face.

He feigns being wounded, clutching his chest in an over-the-top display. "Ouch, feelings hurt," he claims, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he's enjoying this as much as I am.

Cole gets serious for a moment. "The thing is, Liam was there for me when Eva was being stubborn."

I can't resist a jab. "Stubborn or smart?"

He fires back with a quick, "Agree to disagree." Then he continues, "Anyway, he was there, and I know Eva says it's your call and all that, but sometimes people need a nudge in the right direction. I'm really good at that romance shit. You can basically call me Dr. Love."

Raising an eyebrow, I question his self-appointed title. "Is that what you call what you did to Eva? Romancing?"

"Of course!" he claims, unfazed.

I can't help but tease him further. "I call it stalking."

Cole rolls his eyes, brushing off my comment. "You are so dramatic, but whatever, call it what you want. She's now wearing my ring and sharing my bed and surname, so…"

Trying to steer the conversation back to something resembling sanity, I point out, "Listen, no offense, Dr. Love, but the Liam situation is complicated."

He simply shrugs, hands buried in his pockets. "Can you do me a favor?"

Skeptical, I ask, "Will you leave if I do it?"

"God, you're mean! The whole toned-down Morticia look didn't affect your blackened heart."

Unmoved by his dramatics, I just keep staring.

He lets out a sigh, conceding defeat. "You're no fun, anyway." Checking his watch, he hands me a piece of paper. "In about two hours, you should get on this website," he instructs, pointing to the note. "And click on DR1. There's a live interview I think you'll want to see."

The suggestion, coming from Cole, piques my curiosity despite my reservations. His confidence that I'd be interested in whatever this interview is about suggests it's something significant. And knowing Cole, significant usually means something that could potentially turn my life upside down.

"Okay," I reply, keeping my response noncommittal.

"Promise."

Feeling the weight of his expectation, I relent. "Yes." I reach out my hand. "Can I have my key back now?"

He looks at me skeptically. "I'll tell you what. Watch the interview, and once you do, I'll give you the key."

My jaw drops. "That's blackmail!"

He waves off my accusation with a dismissive hand. "Nah, I prefer to call it positive reinforcement."

"You're insane!"

Cole's smirk grows wider. "I've been called worse."

I play my final card. "I'll tell Eva."

His confidence falters for a moment, his mouth tightening in annoyance. "You know what? Do what you want." He finally gives in, slapping the key into my hand. "But if you don't watch it, you're making a big mistake, and I'm washing my hands of it."

"I'll watch it! Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I won't. I go commando. See you later." He chuckles before heading toward the door.

As he leaves, I'm left with the key in my hand and a mix of frustration and curiosity. Cole's unorthodox methods might be maddening, but they have a way of getting under your skin, making you wonder what you're missing. With a reluctant sigh, I admit to myself that I'll be tuning in to DR1 in two hours, if only to ensure I'm not making a big mistake.