Enough | ✔️

+ 20 +

Recap of the last chapter for your own sanity:

Slater finds Quorra passed out over her desk after overworking herself. Slater calls Lara over Skype and tells her about it. The call ends mysteriously as Lara reveals that there is something she has been meaning to tell Quorra. Slater and Quorra have a long chat about her unhealthy situation and Slater makes Quorra agree to eating one meal per day with him. The chapter ends as they get in an argument where Quorra insists that he can't relate to her because he has always had the perfect life. Slater leaves the room quietly.

Okay, read on! I'm sorry if you still don't remember what has happened so far.

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I comb through my eyelashes with a final coat of mascara before putting the wand back in the tube, applying a swipe of lip balm, and turning around to face Hannah.

"Okay, how do I look?" I ask, plastering a grin across my face for a moment until I spot her expression.

I stop pressing my lips together and look at her warily.

"What's wrong?"

Her glittering, emerald eyes have lost their sparkle as she stares at me, as if trying to decipher a complex code. After a thick silence, she speaks, "I should be asking you that, Quorra. Your parents are coming to visit, but you don't need to impress them. If you're working hard, it should be for yourself, and besides, your definition of 'working hard' has gone a little too far."

"Hannah, don't you dare go there. All I've been doing lately is getting lectured by everyone. I thought you were my friend," I repeat for what feels like the trillionth time in the last month, "Every single day is just argument after argument. Can no-one just treat me like a normal person?"

She looks twice as upset as me.

"I am your friend," she insists, the hurt laced in her tone telling me that she took offence that I would even suggest otherwise, "that's why I'm so worried about you, Quo."

My unfiltered reply comes straight after, sharp as a knife, "Don't be, I can take care of myself. Leave if all you want to do is trick me into reverting back to my old, worthless self."

And she does.

"For the record," she says, hand resting on the doorknob, as she turns back to me with faltering light reflected in her eyes, "You look beautiful."

The door clicks shut behind her, a bitter reminder of her absence.

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I fiddle with the bottom of my plaid dress nervously, the ruffled edge doing little to distract me from the anxiety in my blood.

My parents will be here any time now.

Their instructions were to get dressed in something pretty yet casual and meet them in the park near the university.

Eyes fixated on my chainmail watch, I barely blink as the seconds dawdle by, every tick! of the tiny device audible, even amidst the background chatter of the children surrounding me.

My mind can't help but wonder to the events of yesterday. They make me feel sick to my stomach as I recall Slater leaving the room without a word.

"Quorra, honey?"

I look up, snapped out of my daze as quickly as lightning strikes, and offer my parents a dazzling (-ly fake) grin.

"Hey," I greet, standing up to meet them, "How are you?"