Worst Nightmare

Chapter 28

Authors Pov

The golden hues of twilight spilled across the Malisorn estate in Taiwan, casting long shadows through the latticed windows and onto the polished stone floors. The sea breeze was lighter here, carrying with it a hush that the estate in Thailand never quite allowed. For once, there was no mask on her face, no weighty silk robes, no stiff ceremonial posture.

Faye wore a soft cotton shirt in deep plum and dark linen trousers. Her hands were still bandaged, but her shoulders-for the first time in days-hung loose.

She found her grandmother beside the back veranda, near the citrus grove where night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air. The older woman stood like the matriarch she had always been-spine straight, hair pinned in perfect coils, issuing instructions to the maids with a subtle flick of her fingers.

But when she saw Faye approaching, her stern demeanor softened almost imperceptibly. With a small tilt of her chin, she dismissed the last of the servants and turned to walk toward the garden, her steps slow but sure.

Faye followed.

They didn't speak at first. The gravel path crunched gently underfoot, and the cicadas had only just begun their song. Fireflies blinked like scattered memories among the flower beds.

At last, her grandmother spoke-softly, as though not wishing to disturb the night itself.

"Faye... whatever you've done, however you've lived-I've never said anything."

Faye glanced sideways at her, startled by the calm in her voice.

"Because that's how we've survived," her grandmother continued. "That's how we learned to breathe under crowns. Through silence."

They stopped near a stone bench half-covered in creeping ivy. Her grandmother turned and faced her fully now, eyes dark and deep with the knowledge of too many years.

"But what's happening between you and Yoko..." she said, voice lower still, "must never end in heartbreak. Not for you. And not for her."

Faye swallowed. Her eyes burned, but she nodded, silently. She looked down at her feet, her voice caught somewhere between fear and gratitude.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

Her grandmother studied her for a moment longer, then let her gaze flick-casually, mischievously-to the side of Faye's jaw. Where a faint but very obvious love mark bloomed in soft red against her tan skin, just below the bone.

"Well," the older woman said with a chuckle. "Judging by that... I suppose this isn't just political."

Faye blinked. Her hand instinctively went to her jaw, her eyes wide in mortification.

"A-ma!"

But her grandmother only laughed, rich and unhurried-the kind of laughter she rarely gave in public.

"Don't look at me like I'm blind. I've been married fifty years longer than you've been alive, and I know the look of a woman who's finally tasted something worth the risk."

Faye covered her face with her palms, cheeks hot.

"Gods, you're worse than Charlotte," she mumbled.

Her grandmother only smiled, sitting gently on the bench with a grace that belied her age. After a pause, she looked back up at Faye with quiet fondness.

"I saw the way she stood beside you this morning," she said. "Like the world could turn to ash, and she'd still stand there. Don't take that lightly."

Faye said nothing. But in the silence, something in her chest shifted. Her throat ached. And when she finally sat down beside her grandmother, the older woman reached over and took her hand-bandages and all-and held it between her wrinkled palms.