Chapter 33 Breakfast with them

Chapter 33 Breakfast with them

Nyx's p.o.v

I thought I was going to have a good night, after how it ended, with Travis promising to only touch me when I go to him. That would never happen. Good riddance.

I should be happy, but I'm not, there's a bugging feeling in my chest, tugging at something unsettling in there. Disrupting my night sleep.

I was dressed for the day's work, I twirl before the mirror. Good. The art exhibition is very close, and Matthew has made it his life's work to make us overwork.

He even got a teacher to teach us how to communicate with buyers well.

I crouched down to pick up my bag and that was when I saw it, my sketchbook, wet and laying on the floor.

Shit

I froze for a second, then hurried forward, scooping it up like it might dissolve in my hands.

“No, no, no, no,” I whispered, flipping it over. Water dripped from the edges, darkening my fingers. My chest tightened as I opened it.

The pages were wet. Not damp wet. The pencil lines had smudged in places, charcoal bleeding into soft ghosts of what they used to be. Some sketches were still intact, others… ruined. My throat burned.
I couldn’t take it outside. Not with what was inside it. Not with who was inside it.

I looked around my room in mild panic, then moved to the hideous window on the right-hand side, the one I never opened because it let in too much light and zero peace. I spread the sketchbook open carefully, page by page, laying it against the sill so air could touch it without exposing it to the world.

My eyes stung. I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to cry. The rain from yesterday had done this. Of course it had. Memories of Pa Paul rushed back to me.

“That foolish old man.” I murmured

I closed the window just enough and stepped back, giving the sketches one last helpless look before walking out of my room.

The smell of breakfast hit me immediately, but my appetite was nonexistent. Still, I knew better than to skip it. Mom wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

I reached the dining area and slowed.
Travis was already seated at the head of the table, reading glasses perched on his nose as he scanned through a paper.
Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.

My heart skipped.

He looked… unfairly good. Relaxed shoulders, sleeves rolled just enough, jaw set in that serious way that made it hard to remember all the reasons I should stay unaffected.

Mom was staring at him too.

When she noticed me, she blinked repeatedly, straightening like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“Come on, Nyx,” she said, overly bright.

“Sit. Your food will get cold.”

I dragged my feet to my chair, refusing to look at Travis again.

Get it together, I told myself.

Breakfast. Just breakfast.

I tried to occupy my mind with something else, and not his heat seeping into me without our bodies touching. I hate this seating position today. I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze.

I was in his arms yesterday, the way he held me, shared his body heat with me. His hoodie was still in my room.

“No,” I blurted out, shaking my head vigorously to rid myself of that thought.

“Are you okay?” Mom asked, my eyes drifted from hers to Travis'. They were both looking at me.

“Yes yes.” I said and began picking up my cutlery, mom has already dished out the food.

I had just taken a bite when Bianca strode in, a mischievous smile on her face. I heard shuffling of paper from Travis end.

“Good morning dear.” Mom greeted Bianca who murmured a response.

“Morning babe,” she said. She strutted straight to Travis.

Before I could look away, she cupped his face, fingers digging in like she owned the right, and kissed him.

Not a peck. Not polite

A kiss that lingered.

My heart constricted so sharply I forgot how to breathe.

I know she’s his fiancée. I know that. But this…this was the first time I’d actually seen them act like it. Real. Claiming. Undeniable.

My face fell before I could stop it.

Because a stupid, traitorous part of me had believed him.

When he said he wasn’t in love with her.

When he said it was complicated.

When he said things that made me feel… chosen.

He didn’t push her away.

When Bianca finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, a faint crease between his brows like he’d forgotten where he was for a second. My chest ached. The kind of ache that spreads, slow and merciless.
I looked down at my plate, appetite officially dead.

Bianca smiled, satisfied, then sauntered to her seat like she hadn’t just shattered something fragile inside me.

“Morning,” she said again, sweet as poison.

No one spoke.

The clink of cutlery sounded too loud. The room felt too small. His presence and his warmth was suddenly unbearable.

“So, where is the other one,” Bianca asked my mom. Who for a second looked confused, then realization dawned on her.

“He has gone to the bar.” She said.

“Oh…you are also dressed,” she pointed out.

Mom nodded I could see that she dislikes Bianca just as much as I do.

“What about you?” She pointed at me.

I have half a mind to ignore her but Mom would notice something was off.

“I'm also going to work”

“But you ain't working in the bar, are you?”

I shook my head.

“Why's that?”

“Bianca table manners.” Travis spoke for the first time since I came here.

“No but why's she exempted from the family's job?”

“I wouldn't like to repeat myself.” Travis gave her a death stare.

“Okay babe, anything for you,” she reached out to his chest and rubbed at it.

Oh God.

On cue, the door bell rang, I made to stand up, anything to lead me away from here. But mom beat me to it.

“I will get it.”

Moments later mom returned. “Lena’s here for you.” She said to me.

I took in a sigh of relief. I've never been so happy to see Lena but I might actually hug her for taking me away from this torture.

“Bye,” I said as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

Outside, I saw her black car, and I knew she was inside, I half ran, half walked till I got in. I grabbed her face and peppered kisses around it. Only releasing it when she pushed me off.

“What
's wrong with you Nyx, you've smudged my makeup.” She said, staring at the rearview mirror.

“Sorry. Just drive.”

“You good?”.

“Just drive,”