𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐗𝐗𝐕

2 Days Later - Monaco

The house was destroyed.

Glass was all over the floor, shimmering under the glow of the city lights coming through the massive windows. The television—or what was left of it—was nothing but a shattered screen.

The coffee table was overturned, shards of a wine glass staining the fancy Moroccan rug a deep red color.. A chair was broken. One of the shelves in the corner had been knocked over, books and picture frames scattered across the floor.

And in the middle of it all—Milaine.

She was laying there, sprawled on the rug, surrounded by her own mess. Her long legs stretched out, the cuts wnd scratches on her knees barely bleeding anymore.

Her skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat and dust, her oversized T-shirt—one that wasn't even hers but one she had stolen from her father years ago—when he was still alive, hanging off her frame, barely covering her. Her underwear was the only other thing she wore.

Her body ached. Her shoulder throbbed. But she didn't move.

She had no idea how long she had been lying there. Hours? Days? Maybe. She remembered breaking the TV. She remembered screaming. Throwing the remote, watching it shatter the screen just as Iga Świątek fell to the ground in victory.

That was supposed to be her. That was supposed to be her title.

She hadn't eaten since—when? Yesterday? The last thing she had put into her body was a painkiller. And then another. And another. Every two hours, because the pain never really stopped. It was the only thing keeping her numb.

Spook, Nachts, and Oranje were curled up on the couch, silent, watching her. Keeping an eye on her. Even they knew something was wrong. Noel, the puppy was laying beside her feet, occasionally licking at her ankle, whimpering softly.

Milaine just stared at the ceiling. Her chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths.

She wanted to sleep. Or maybe she didn't. She didn't know anymore. But at some point, her body made the decision for her.

The exhaustion finally got her, her eyes slipped shut, the pain dulled, her breathing slowed, and the last thing she felt before sleep took her was Noel's fluffy fur pressing against her leg.

•••••••

She woke up to sunlight on her face, the world felt distant at first. Muffled. Like she wasn't fully back in her body yet.

The first thing she registered was how dry her mouth was. How her stomach ached—not just from hunger but from the emptiness.

And then she heard the sound of the front door unlocking, Milaine didn't react, she had an idea on who that might be , Probably Viv or Omar checking on her..

The door swung open. Footsteps—slow, hesitant. Careful. Like whoever was entering already knew they weren't going to like what they found.

The steps moved further inside. Past the hallway. Into the living room.

Milaine waited to hear Viv start yell and complain about her state, Or for Omar to curse in Either french or Moroccan and come to and pull her off the carpet..

Yet nothing came..

She wanted to get up, she wanted to stand up and face whoever just stepped in her house .. But she felt weak, too drained.

And then—just for a fraction of a second—the world around her shifted. It was the painkillers. It had to be. The haze in her mind blurred the edges of reality, and just for that one, sick, twisted moment—she thought it was him.