Until my Last Breath

98

Monaco

I'm laying in bed, Maverick curls at my feet like he always does when I'm not okay. I stare at the ceiling, but my mind doesn't stay there. It slips. It drifts backward, tugging me by the chest to a memory so deeply carved in me it might as well be stitched into my bones.

I'm fifteen again.
The hospital smells like bleach and flowers that are trying too hard. My mom is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking paler than usual, a scarf wrapped around her head in a way that's supposed to be casual but we both know it's not. I hate this place. I hate how it makes her small. But she still smiles when she sees me, and that's enough to keep me from breaking.

"Rita," she says gently, patting the space beside her. "Come here, sweetheart."

I sit beside her, careful not to nudge the IV. She reaches out and brushes my cheek with the back of her fingers like I'm still little, and I lean into her touch because I never know when the next time will be. Then she glances at the door.

"She's here," she says. "Be nice."

The door opens and in walks this tall young woman in tailored pants and heels that don't even make a sound when she walks. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and she has this confidence about her that screams she doesn't miss a thing. I stare.

"Rita, this is Marina," my mom says with a kind of quiet pride. "She's going to help you now."

Marina gives me a polite smile, but it's not cold. It's just... composed. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your mom talks about you constantly."

I nod awkwardly, trying not to shrink into myself. I don't know what to say. I don't want help. I just want things to go back to the way they were, but they won't. So instead I look at my mom again, and she's looking at Marina like she's some sort of safety net.

"She's going to take care of you," my mom says, her voice a little thinner now. "She believes in you, like I do. Promise me, you'll let her help."

I don't promise easily. But I do then. Because it's my mom, and her eyes are tired, and I can feel time running out. So I say yes. I take Marina's hand when she offers it, and it's firm, steady, sure.

From that moment on, she was everything.
The manager. The planner. The wall I could lean on when everything got too loud.
She got me deals I never thought I'd reach. She fought for me when no one else did. She remembered how I liked my coffee on bad days. She held my hand after my first crash. I trusted her because my mom had trusted her. And when I lost my mom, Marina was the only constant I had left.

So now, lying here, hearing Gavi's voice in my head again-_"You should ask Marina"-_I feel like I'm suffocating.
Because if Marina-
If she has anything to do with why he left-
With why he broke me and never came back-

Then everything I've clung to since I was fifteen suddenly feels like a lie.
And I don't know if I'll survive another one.

-
I'm fumbling with the spatula in one hand, trying not to drop the eggs as I guide them onto the plate. My other arm, useless and bound tightly in that god-awful brace the doctor insisted on, hangs stiffly by my side. The kitchen smells like burnt toast and something slightly metallic - probably from me leaning too close to the pan. I haven't slept. I haven't really eaten either. But I'm trying.

The front door creaks open behind me.

"Morning, superstar!" Marina's voice rings out like she's walked into a movie set, full of light and praise. "You killed it last night, Riri. That red dress? You were absolutely glowing. Everyone's still talking about you."