Symphony Of Lies (Inked Hearts 2)

16

AN:

This chapter is dedicated to @I_dont_know279 for all your votes in DOF 💜

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Margot first person pov:

I stand unmoving in the Personal Care aisle of Target. A large array of shampoos and conditioners in front of me, differing from the brand to the style to the size of the bottle. Each kind is unfamiliar to me, and there are more variations in function than I ever thought possible: full-body, wavy, curly, straight, sleek, sheet, shine, hydrate, volume, and others that barely make any sense to me.

It's not the overwhelming display that has me frozen or the fact that they're all in English; I became fluent when I was seven. No. It's the fact that my usual brand is not here, nor any of the others that I'm familiar with. This should have been obvious to me, and staring at them now I feel like slapping my head. Of course, they'd all be different in America!

But I suppose it didn't occur to me just how different everything would be: everything is different. The brands, the names, and even the layout of the store and how they organize all the products. Nothing in this store or any other is like the ones back in France.

Now I don't know which one to get, now I don't know how long certain sized things will last, or how to even arrange everything in my shopping basket. I feel as if I don't know anything.

I blink hard, and let my eyes roam over the bottles again.

I've used the same brand – the same bottles – of shampoo and conditioner since I was a kid. Ever since I could wash my own hair, I've used the same type that my parents got for me, that I later got for myself – the kind that he liked.

Not once did I consider another option, or the fact that there was another option. And now that it's not even an option at all...

My hand shakes slightly as I reach out and grab one: white nectarine and pear. Then grab the same thing in conditioner and place them both in my empty shopping basket.

I stare down at the two bottles for a long time.

I did it.

To most people, picking out shampoo and conditioner would seem like nothing, but to me – to me who's never done this before, never got to choose something so simple as hair products for myself-

I chose this. I chose those two bottles. I made my own choice.

My eyes start to tear up and that snaps me from my thoughts. Quickly, I dry my eyes and huff a small laugh at myself: how typical of me to start crying in the middle of a store aisle.

From there I continue shopping throughout the store, making more and more choices as the day comes to a close.

***

I shut the door behind me and lock it before setting my things down on the floor beside my shoes, and look around the place – my place.

It's just a small apartment, close to work but not too deep into the city. The apartment isn't particularly nice: the wooden floor creaks in a few places, there aren't a ton of outlets, and some of the furniture has seen better days, but it's warm, within my budget, and has good wifi.

Most of the furniture was here when I moved in: the tables, couch, chairs, bed, wardrobe, mirror, desk, and all the kitchen appliances. The rest of it are things that I brought with me from France: clothes, books, and a few nicknacks.

Blowing out a breath, I reach into one of the bags and pull out a framed picture of a grand piano and soon have it hanging on the wall opposite my bed. Then I hang another picture of a flock of birds, and then a clock I bought. I put the shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom along with some skincare products and hairbands.

The rest of the shopping bags get emptied as the sun sets on the horizon, not visible behind the tall buildings of the city. And soon I have some pasta boiling on the stove.

When my food is ready, I grab Pride and Prejudice from my bookshelf and take both my book and bowl of food to the table.

The bowl gets emptied and at least thirty pages of my book have been flipped by the time I'm done. Slowly, I lift my eyes from the pages before me and look around my apartment. My home.

I chose this apartment and everything in it. I chose to live here without any input or influence from anyone else. My decision. My choice.

My thumb moves on its own and spins the ring around my finger. I glance down at that ring and the tattoo peeking out from under it.

I chose to leave France, and I chose to leave him – my soulmate.

Hesitantly, I reach for my phone and open my contacts to stare at the one with nothing but a number in it, labeled PJM. My finger hovers over the number.

I could call him. But what would I say? Nothing has changed. And even if it had, I don't want anything to change. And for the first time in my life, I have total control over that.

I switch off my phone and watch as his number goes black.

Not yet. Maybe someday. But not today. Now is not the time for looking back. Now is the time to do anything I want, anything I choose.

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AN:

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter despite it being short and – albeit – all over the place. But this chapter was necessary for the next part.

I hope you've been having a good month so far! I've been trying to work out my schedule with the new classes that I've been taking, but every day I go for a walk I try to catch a leaf and it's been a really nice autumn so far for me :)

Thanks for reading! And I'll see you guys when I can!!
Love you always!
- Leia 💜