Part 38

My eyes fluttered again, facing the inky darkness of the ceiling. I made a pitiful sound, fingers curling into the blankets and tugging them closer. Nothing worked. Ever since I got back from the dinner and tried to drown my sorrows by sleeping, it was not helping. I turned to face the nightstand, meeting the blaring red numbers. 

It’s four in the morning. 

Before I could stop myself, my legs worked on their own, up and out of bed, being pulled forward by an invisible string. The air in my room turned chilly when I pried the doors of the window open, shivering slightly.

With my arms crossed together, I stared at the hazy sky, a lazy swirl of orange and red, light barely breaking out of clouds. The dawn was filled with tension that made me feel very uncomfortable. There was a silence in the early morning hours that unnerved me. 

I leaned against the wall, letting time trickle by, but nothing changed. The street was deserted, haunting and covered in dim lighting, mirroring my inner feelings. No matter how hard I tried to squint my eyes or strain my ears, nothing distracted me anymore.

When I stumbled back inside, it was with wet cheeks and a hollow heart, the recollection of the incident a few hours earlier throbbing like an actual wound between my ribs. 

I sat at my desk and checked on my phone, eyes widening when I saw the messages on the screen. They were mainly from Rowan, one from Isabella inquiring about my night. 

Holding my breath, I tapped on the messaging icon, eyes taking in words. 

“Erin! I am sorry.”

“At least let me know when you reach home.”

“We should talk later.”

“Nothing will change our mind regarding our arrangement.”

I stared at the screen for too long, words blurring together and eyes burning from the brightness. Shaking my head, I took the phone and shoved it into a drawer for the remainder of the night, but I might as well have never bothered as the message was seared into my brain, prickling at my conscience and scratching at my lungs.

“I am fine.” I texted, convincing myself that it’s only polite to do so after receiving so many messages. The thought of him reading the text-only caused my stomach to swoop. Why did I reply? Then again, it would have been rude to leave him on read. 

My eyes moved to the messy bed and I let out a sigh. My body was pumped, too much energy sparking in my veins, and I needed to get it out somehow. I planted my hands on my hips and surveyed the room thoughtfully. They finally landed on the old laptop tucked into my shelf between a book and a planner from a few years ago. I stared at it for a minute before exhaling. 

Minutes later, I sat at my desk with a blank sheet spread in front of me, fingers twitching and my mind racing. In this instance, I decided there was little in the world more daunting than space waiting to be filled up. But I also decided something else: I did not care.

I had no idea or means to know much time passed as I immersed myself in resuming the story I started five years ago. For a long time, I went through the previous chapter, grimacing and considering, rediscovering parts of myself I had forgotten since the last time I wrote on the laptop. 

Somehow I finished one page, and then another, and another, slowly filling the blank space and creating something out of nothing. It might be nothing extraordinary, but it felt like an accomplishment. 

A tentative knock against the wall snapped me out of the spell, my head whipping around to see Esther leaning up against the door frame, tired eyes and a confused look on her face. 

“Hi,” She croaked, letting out a yawn. “Why are you up so early?”

“Hey,” I breathed, licking at my lips while flexing the fingers that went stiff from typing. “I couldn’t sleep so….”

“When did you wake up?!”

“Around four…”

She glanced at the laptop in front of me, her eyes tracing over the words typed in. “You have been writing all this time?” The look my sister gave me was almost fond, her shoulders easing a little.

Ever since that incident five years ago, I stayed away from one thing that gave me joy. Writing. I don’t know when it happened, but I was unable to write a single line without breaking down and erasing all the content on the go. 

My eyes strayed to the bold black letters on the top, teeth digging into the flesh of my bottom lip. I gulped audibly. “I guess. It’s a new day.”

“It sure is!” Her eyes glimmered, and with one last look, my sister shut the door behind, making sure not to make any noise. 

***

A few hours later, I took a long hot shower and got ready for the office. My head felt heavy, an ache forming at the base of my temples which I ignored. 

If my mother noticed the shift in my mood, she didn’t bother commenting. Not even when my sister gave me a wave. We never acted that way in front of her. 

As soon as I entered my office, I gulped the cup of coffee placed on my table, not feeling guilty about it being my third cup. The day had barely started, and I already wanted it to end and succumb to bed. 

Isabella opened the door, looking frazzled and concerned as she saw my limp body against the chair. Her brow quirked as she inched further. “What? What happened?” She asked, panic laced in her voice. 

I couldn’t blame her, knowing very well that I currently looked pale and shaken, hair messy and pulled in a high ponytail. Some of the strands slipped and covered most of my forehead. 

“Where do I begin?”

“Hey…are you okay?” She asked worriedly, taking a seat in front of me and squeezing my hand. 

I shook my head, head slumping down and rubbing the tip of my nose against the back of my hand furiously. 

“Oh, no, what happened?”

As I lifted my head to speak up, my voice quivered. “They both know.”

“Know what?”

“About what happened five years ago. Ryan was drunk, and he spilled the entire thing during our dinner.”

“That nutcrack!” Isabella hissed. “And? What did they say? Most importantly, were you able to say your side of the story?”

I sagged further into my seat, twisting my lips. “What difference does that make anyway, Bella? They must be hating me right now for hiding about it.”

“Then they are nutcrackers too.”

My lips reluctantly twitched at that, shaking my head at the furious look on her face. Upon noticing me, she pursed her lips and leaned forward. “What? I am serious, Erin. Maybe if I were into girls, I would be courting you right away.”

I blushed at the remark, ducking my head and avoiding her eyes. She was still an Alpha at the end of the day, so things like that had an effect on me. Exhaling hotly, I looked up and cracked a smile. 

“I know, and thank you for saying that.”

Isabella grinned, rubbing her hands together. “Good! Now shake yourself and forget about those airheads. If they don’t come around, it’s their loss anyway.”

***

Around lunch time Alpha Damon pushed the door to my office, the action almost startling me. I rubbed my eyes, having spent hours reading the mails with nearly far too small text. Maybe it’s time I change the settings on the desktop.

“What do you want?” 

“Whatever happened to people saying hello first! I miss those times.”

I groaned. “Damon, I am working.”

“No, you are not! It’s lunch time. Come on.” He waved around the take out in his hand, which I eyed with acute interest. 

“What is that?”

“Fried momos. They are the best thing to happen to momos.”

“Sure!”

“Do you have extra glasses? I got us this amazing lassi drink from the nearby Indian restaurant.”

“How many places did you stop by?”

“Three, of course. Momos for starters, fresh garden salad for main and then lassi. I was thinking pasta, but too much carbs for lunch may put you to sleep.”

I gaped at him, mouth hanging open, unsure whether he was joking or not. “Please tell me you are kidding.”

“I am! Of course, I got us pasta!”

“Damon!” I let out a sigh. “This is too much. We are in the middle of preparing for an event and…I am sorry, but you should have called.”

“I did!”

On instinct, I checked the phone and found several missed calls. My lips twisted at that. “It’s on silent!”

“Not my fault.”

He unpacked the boxes and pushed in my direction. “Eat as much as you want. I already gave a bag to the rest of your staff.”

“Is this your way of bribing us so that we can fast forward your book process?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

I eyed the food on my desk, lips twitching as I saw the pasta. “You are getting there.”

***