Bets, Beds & Treads ۶ৎ

𝒙𝒙𝒙𝒊.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ xxxɪ
| ғᴏᴀᴍ ɴ ғᴜʀʏ |
𝐑 𝐄 𝐈 𝐍 𝐀

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗞 𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬!" I grin, feeling delighted. "Seriously, what would I do without you?"

"It's my pleasure, Miss Gavril," she replies, ever so polite.

For god's sake. That name again.

Mary won't call me by my first name, no matter how many times I beg her to. She could be my mom-hell, she's probably older-and still insists on addressing me like I'm some damn princess with a crown on my head. It's so stiff, so formal, and it drives me insane. But she's stubborn, and old-school in a way that you just can't argue with so I've stopped fighting it.

Instead of sighing, I just smile, take the last bite of the cake we made together and moan at the flavour. Apparently, I am a good girl today. Because truth is Mary deserves a damn medal. She's been my constant while I've been, well... everywhere else. And after something like yesterday? Yeah, we're not even going to unpack that shit right now.

My pride is barely alive. Thanks to him.

But I'm letting it go. For now.

"I'll be off, then." I push off the marble counter and pull Mary into a surprise hug. She stiffens for half a second, then melts into it like always.

I headed for the door, “Catch you later. I’ll be out on the lawn.”

Translation: I was about to wash my car. I’d forgotten to take it to the car wash after that one time I finally got around to it (after the mess Sia caused). I hadn’t gotten it washed since, so now, I was planning to do it myself, mostly to pretend that I could scrub away the humiliation and maybe reclaim a fraction of my dignity.

And I'm not even gonna lie—I felt fresh today. Reborn, even.

Because this morning, I chose productivity violence. Head pounding? Too bad. I chugged a protein shake. Crushed a 45-min workout as if I was preparing for war and if honest, I totally was. Took the coldest shower known to mankind, just to freeze that memory into extinction.

Then I locked in. Five hours of uninterrupted study. No distractions. Just me, my books, and whatever shred of self-respect was left after everything.

I even went so far as to romanticize my life for a second. Lit a candle. Played some soft indie music. Cleaned my desk, then my entire room. Even tackled the stairs and my parents' suite, even though Mary already had everything gleaming. I couldn't just sit around—I needed to do something, anything—to keep me from sitting still long enough to remember, even if it was just dust.

I had to pretend I was responsible or well, at least be good at distracting myself. So, now washing the car it was.

I stepped out into the bright sunlight, stretching with a lazy body yawn, tossed my phone onto the patio table, and grabbed the hose. It shot out cold at first, the spray hitting with a satisfying hiss. As I started scrubbing away the grime, I realized how oddly calming it was. The rhythm of scrubbing, the sound of water hitting the car's surface, the way the suds bubble up - it felt therapeutic.

I'm elbow-deep in soap suds, focused in my own little world… when suddenly, I hear a familiar voice calling behind me.

“Holy shit, will you look at that!?” Ryder announced, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “A rare sight of Reina Gavril… voluntarily doing manual labor. Someone slap me, this can't be real.”

I turned around slowly, rolling my eyes and bracing myself for the shit-eating grin I knew he was wearing.

And he was—strolling up the driveway with his hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes gleaming with amusement.