In The Wake Of Love

Chapter 4 : ᴛᴇɴ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɢᴏ

I think you're gonna change my plans,
With those emerald eyes
But you don't even understand
How much they're on my mind

FINNEAS

𝚉𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚛

The early morning light barely filters through the blinds, casting a dull, gray glow over the dorm room. My eyes burn, and every part of me screams for sleep.
"Fuck!" I mutter, dragging a hand through my tangled hair. I stayed up watching the entire damn trilogy just to get those assholes' dumb reference.

I throw my head back against the pillow, frustration building. Well, at least the 'Hela' character is cool. But I swear to God, if anyone even tries to talk to me today...

The door to the bathroom creaks open, interrupting my thoughts. In walks the maid girl, Mia. I swear, Dad must've planned this. I should've had this dorm to myself, but of course, he had to stick me with her. Always making sure I never have it easy.

Her voice grates on my nerves before she even finishes her sentence.
"Are you going to shower, Zephyr?"

I don't respond. Why should I? It's too early for this crap.

"Hello, Zephyr? Can you hear me? Just answer the damn question: yes or no. How hard is that?"

She's really testing me today. I can feel my fingers curling into the sheets, trying to keep calm. Dad told me to keep it together. But she just keeps pushing.

She takes it a step further by grabbing my arm and shaking me. "Enough is eno-"

My hand snaps out, gripping her face. Her skin feels cold under my fingers as I tilt her chin up toward me, my thumb pressing just hard enough to get her attention. "You've got a death wish, don't you?"

To my surprise, Mia smirks, the fuck. Her lips curl into a mocking grin, and she stares right back at me.

"You think that's the easy way out?" she asks, her voice low but taunting. "Maybe, Zephyr. But don't forget, you've got more at stake than just putting up with me. You might not want to admit it, but it's only a matter of time before your mom gets brought up again. And what then?"

That's it. Before I even think, my hand cracks across her face. The sound echoes through the room, louder than I expected. Her head snaps to the side, and a red mark begins to bloom on her cheek. She deserves it. No one talks about my mother and walks away unscathed.

Mia straightens, her smirk gone now. Her eyes blaze with anger, but her hands tremble as she balls them into fists. I take a step back, satisfied. Good. She should be scared. I stalk toward the door, but just as my hand touches the knob, I hear her whisper, barely audible.
"That's why your mom left..."

The anger surges back in an instant. I whip around, my voice sharp. "What did you just say?"

Mia doesn't look at me. She busies herself, grabbing her clothes and shoving them into a bag. "Nothing," she mutters, "I've got work. Part-time job, remember?"

She tries to brush past me, but I block the door, leaning against the frame with my arms crossed. "What did you say? Don't make me ask again. And what the hell do you mean you're working a part-time job? My dad pays you more than enough."

Her eyes meet mine, and her expression is unreadable, cold, distant, but determined.
"I don't have a daddy with a bottomless credit card," she snaps. "And I definitely don't have a mother who left behind a cushy inheritance for her 'perfect little ballerina.' So stop pretending you understand my choices. I'm here to keep an eye on you, not to be your personal servant 24/7."