The things we never had

Chapter 23

I woke up with tears brimming in my eyes, the weight of the dream still heavy on my chest. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up like this, but it always felt like the first—fresh and raw, like a wound that never fully healed. My pillow was damp, and I could feel the trail of tears that had slipped past while I slept, betraying the silence I tried so hard to maintain during the day.

In the darkness of my room, everything felt too real. My breath hitched as I blinked away the tears, but the images from the dream clung to me—her voice, the way she looked at me, the cold threat that followed every word.

I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest, trying to calm the shaking that had started without me realizing. My mind raced, replaying the same phrases over and over, the ones I couldn't escape even in my sleep.

If I was good, it wouldn't hurt.

But it always did.

A knock echoed through the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked away the remnants of my tears and opened it, clearing my throat as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yeah?" I croaked out, trying to sound normal.

It was Christian. His eyes scanned me, a flicker of concern passing through them. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"I'm alright," I replied, forcing a small smile. He nodded, though he didn't seem entirely convinced.

"I just wanted to let you know we've got guests downstairs. Mum wants you to come down."

"Okay," I nodded. He lingered for a second longer before walking away, leaving me alone again.

I closed the door softly and took a deep breath, walking back to my room with slow, deliberate steps. Everything felt strange this morning—like I was walking through thick fog. Weak, numb. Maybe the worst combination possible.

I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the hot water run over me. I stayed there longer than usual, hoping it would wash away that heavy feeling clinging to me, but it didn't.

When I finally got out, I walked to the closet, picking out a simple white summer dress. I put it on, pairing it with some soft socks, and sat down at the vanity. My hands moved automatically as I brushed my hair, styled it, then added light makeup. It felt routine—something to keep me going, even though part of me wanted to crawl back into bed. I sprayed on some perfume and grabbed my phone, checking the time.

11:47.

Pretty early for guests. I wondered who they were and why today of all days.

I walked downstairs, my feet sliding on the smooth floor, heading toward the dining room, but it was empty. That felt strangely sad. It was the one place we usually all gathered, fatty's.

Still, no one was there.

I kept wandering through the house, expecting to find someone, but room after room was empty. I was about to call someone to ask where everyone was when I glanced out the window and finally spotted them outside. There they were—everyone gathered in the garden. And with them were a couple I didn't recognize, a man and a woman who looked roughly my parents' age. And then there was Dimitri. I wondered why he was here.

Sliding open the patio door, I stepped outside, feeling the warm air hit me. It struck me that in the nearly two weeks I'd been here, I hadn't actually spent time in the garden. And now that I was seeing it up close, I realized just how big it really was. We'd seen glimpses of it before, but not this part—it was breathtaking. The perfectly manicured lawns, rows of flowers blooming in every color, and even a fountain in the distance.