Chapter 61 Chapter Sixty-one
Lena’s POV
The sunlight seeps softly through the curtains, painting warm stripes across the floor. I groan, shifting carefully, aware of the throbbing in my toe. It’s better than yesterday, definitely better, but I still have to be cautious. One wrong step and I’ll regret it. I glance at the clock, squinting through the morning haze.
Past ten. Again. My body protests my slow movement, but I’m grateful for the extra rest. I push myself to sit up, wincing lightly as my toe reminds me it’s still tender. My blanket slips from my legs, and I swing them to the side, gingerly standing.
As I make my way to the door, something catches my eye. A delivery—flowers. Bright, fresh, vibrant, arranged carefully in a simple bouquet. My pulse quickens. No note. My first thought, of course, is him. Sebastian. He has this way of showing up without showing up, a presence felt even in the simplest of gestures.
I pick them up, inhaling the faint scent of roses and lilies. Careful not to jostle the arrangement, I bring them inside and place them on the counter. I stand for a moment, just looking at them. How does he always know what will make me smile? How does he manage to make every ordinary day feel extraordinary?
I shake my head, brushing away thoughts that might turn into daydreams too early in the morning. Today is for rest, for lightness, for trying not to think too much about him… though I know it’s impossible.
The rest of the morning passes quietly. I tidy up the house in small, careful movements. Nothing strenuous, just folding the laundry, fluffing the cushions, wiping counters. The TV hums softly in the background, a comforting noise that fills the spaces left empty by silence. I try to focus on the films, letting the plot occupy my mind, but every few minutes, my attention drifts.
Every time a character on screen laughs, I think of his smile. Every time someone reaches out to touch someone else, I imagine it’s his hand brushing against mine. Even with all the distractions, I find myself smiling too wide, caught in the magnetic pull of thoughts of him.
By mid-afternoon, I’ve mostly abandoned trying to distract myself. I sink onto the couch with a blanket over my legs, letting my toe rest on a cushion. I curl my fingers around the fabric, trying to steady my racing heart. Tuesday. The question looms ahead, the moment I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.
The door opens with a familiar creak, and Avery steps inside, filling the house with her presence immediately. Her energy is like sunlight; I can’t help but feel lighter.
“Lena, you are not going to believe what just happened,” she begins, dropping her bag by the couch. "Guess who the girl is?"
"What girl?" I ask confused.
"That sent my baby hot bikini pictures."
"Oh" I said as I sat up.
“That bitch? Totally his ex. She refuses to let go. Nothing serious. We left the bar together, he told me everything."
I laugh softly, grateful for the distraction, and shake my head. “I'm happy you listened to me."
Her eyes sweep the room, landing on the flowers. She leans forward, hands on her knees, her curiosity obvious. “New flowers? And gorgeous ones, I might add. Did you get these for yourself?”
I shake my head, smiling faintly. “Nope. Someone else.”
She smirks knowingly. “Ah. That figures.” She settles onto the couch beside me. “Now, outfits. We need a game plan for Tuesday. You cannot walk into work looking like a nervous wreck. Trust me. I’ll help you fix this.”
Avery grabs her laptop, scrolling through outfit options, her fingers moving with precision. “You need something that screams confident, approachable, but also hints at the fact that you’re his… sort of girlfriend. Mysterious, but not distant. Got it?”
“Mysterious?” I echo, raising a brow.
“Yes,” she insists, tapping through colors and styles. “You want him to look at you and think… wow. And also wonder. Suspense is key. Don’t give everything away at once.”
I giggle, warmth spreading through my chest. Avery is always so good at reading the room, reading people, and she knows exactly how to calm my nerves while teasing me mercilessly.
She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Are you sure you really wanna ask him?"
I take a deep breath, my pulse quickening. “Yes. Once I see him at work. I need to know. I can’t keep wondering.”
Avery nods approvingly. “Good. Smart. You’ve waited long enough. Don’t overthink it. Just ask. Simple, direct, clear.”
The next few hours pass in a comfortable rhythm. We discuss clothes, accessories, even shoes. Avery is relentless with suggestions, playful in her teasing, and gently insistent about what will make me feel confident and visible without being over the top. Every comment she makes about Sebastian — how he must be thinking of me right now, how he’d notice every detail of my outfit, how he won’t be able to look away — makes my stomach flutter with a mix of nerves and excitement.
As evening falls, we finalize the outfit. Accessories are laid out carefully, shoes polished, the clothes pressed and ready. Avery steps back, hands on her hips, examining the ensemble like an artist approving her work.
“You’re going to kill him with confidence,” she says. “Remember, Lena. You’re worth this clarity. You deserve to know what you mean to him.”
I smile softly, grateful for her encouragement. My heart races at the thought of finally speaking up. Tuesday is looming, and with it, the chance to finally understand where I stand with Sebastian.
Night drapes over the city quietly. The house is calm, a soft breeze sneaking in through the open window, brushing the edges of the curtains. I climb into bed, propping my toe carefully on a cushion, letting the cool sheets soothe my muscles.
My mind refuses to quiet down. I imagine everything — him smiling at me, pulling me close, brushing his hand against mine, the curve of his lips forming that teasing smile I’ve come to memorize. I imagine him noticing every detail of me, taking in my presence with that intense look that makes my stomach flip.
Every scenario is vivid, the possibilities endless. I see him laughing at something small, whispering something tender, leaning just close enough that the warmth of him is undeniable. I see the security in his eyes, the protective streak that makes my heart ache.
The excitement tangles with nerves, a coil tightening in my chest. I want to ask. I want to know. But I also fear the unknown, the possibility that the answer might shift everything.
And yet, tonight, in the quiet, I allow myself hope. I allow myself to imagine clarity, to imagine happiness, to imagine a future, even if it’s just for a few moments before sleep.
I close my eyes, hugging my pillow to my chest. A small smile forms, despite the anxiety buzzing faintly in my mind. Tomorrow will finally arrive. Tomorrow, I will see him, and I will ask the question that has been resting silently between us for too long.