Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
No. But I might as well be.
“She was bound to rebel against you.”
“Do you have a point, Harris?”
“Do you want my advice?”
“Since when are you an expert?”
“I’ve been Googling things to stay ahead.”
“Googling?”
“You would be surprised at what you can find there. Anyway, all I’m saying is, give her time, sir.”
“That won’t be happening.”
“Suit yourself.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you might lose her once and for all.”
My breathing turns harsh and rugged as I resist the urge to punch Harris’ snobby face. “That won’t be happening either.”
“It will, unless…”
I stare at him. “Unless what?”
“Unless you give her space. If you want her to fall back into you willingly, then you should leave her alone for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What if she never comes back?”
He sighs and readjusts his glasses again. “Then it’s better to let her go.”
Let her go.
I know what that means, and despite my black mood, I recognise it’s probably the best option for her.
But how the fuck can I let go of the piece of myself I finally found?
26
Aurora
The following week passes in a blur.
It’s the longest period of my life.
Part of it is because of the upcoming trial and the imminent doom of facing my father again. Alan and I have been practising what I should and shouldn’t say, how I should react, and even what I should wear.
My solicitor is sure that the prosecution has nothing to bring me down, but I can tell he’s wary of the other solicitor pulling something from his sleeves.
However, that’s not the part that unsettles me the most. The reason I’m out of sorts is mainly because of the cold shoulder Jonathan has been giving me lately.
He doesn’t sit me on his lap anymore, although he does give me that severe look so I’ll eat. He runs me baths but doesn’t stay when I take them. He brings me meals but doesn’t linger. He’s in the know about all my meetings with Alan, but he doesn’t talk to me about the trial.
Jonathan doesn’t talk to me. Full stop.
When we had a family dinner the other day, he remained completely silent, listening to Aiden and Levi throwing jabs at each other. He didn’t stay for their usual chess game, and as soon as the meal ended, he went straight to his office.
Elsa and Astrid asked me if something was wrong, and Aiden said they’re getting back the Jonathan they all recognise.
He didn’t return that entire evening and stayed the night in his office. He does that a lot now, pulling all-nighters in his company, with Harris and a usually-tired Moses.
In the beginning, I thought the phase would wear off, and he’d eventually return to being the Jonathan I know — the man I grew accustomed to. He hasn’t.
Now, whenever Ethan is in sight, or one of the boys says something about me or to me, he doesn’t hesitate to tell them off, but his attention is never directed at me.
I hate how I can barely sleep anymore — if ever. The bed feels so cold and desolate without him. Before, nighttime used to be my favourite, but now, I dread it like nothing else. It means I’ll go home and sleep without him. It means I’ll continue watching the door, waiting for it to open, then sleep with tears in my eyes when it doesn’t.
The only times Jonathan talks to me is to tell me to eat or to not leave the house without security.
They follow me around everywhere now, especially to H&H. There are usually many reporters waiting there and making everyone’s lives a nightmare. Layla threatens to give them hell, but I manage to stop her by saying it’ll only make it worse.
By the end of the week, I’m so mentally exhausted, I want to curl into a ball and disappear.
But I don’t do that. Instead, I go one step further in a last-ditch attempt to get Jonathan back. Though talking to him would probably be a better option.
But have you seen Jonathan? It’s not like I can walk up to him and he’ll listen. He’s so hot-headed, and when he erases you, it’s hard to even look at him in the eyes, let alone talk to him.
So I invited Ethan over for afternoon tea. I mean, this is where I live too and Layla has been coming over the entire time. I also consider Ethan a friend, so he should be welcome to where I live.
Or at least, those are the excuses I tell myself.
Margot watches us peculiarly as she serves us tea near the outside pool area. Almost as if she’s asking me if I’ve lost my mind.
Perhaps I have, but I’m so sick and tired of Jonathan’s silent treatment. If Ethan is what it’ll take to have him talk to me again, so be it.