COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 14

RESEARCH

I’m holed up in my room, the laptop screen the only light source as I scour the web for a music school. I’ve looked at several options, but none felt vibrant; none truly convinced me. London, on the other hand, has always held a magnetic pull on me. As a child, I used to sneak into my father’s desk drawers to stare at old photos of him there—snapshots of when he was a boy or my age.
​I don’t understand why he refuses to show them to us. He avoids the subject with a burning stubbornness; he never talks about his original family, and if I press him, he dismisses it by saying he "has no one." Paul has never dared to ask questions—my father’s reaction to this topic terrifies him. I, however, am consumed by curiosity. And that look he gave me yesterday when I mentioned London... there was something deeply wrong in his eyes.
​I keep scrolling. The Royal College of Music catches my eye. It’s imposing, offering courses that seem tailor-made for me. There’s even a faculty for composition and a performance program that borders on perfection.
Nick would be a god in a place like this. He’d make everyone else look like amateurs. He could be happy here. We could have seen each other every day, laughing over coffee at the professors' eccentricities.
No, Emma. Stop it. He’s staying in New York. Juilliard is his destiny, his throne. I won’t drag him into my exile.
​My phone vibrates. My heart leaps into my throat—Nick?
No. It’s Leo. What the hell does he want now?
"We won. I scored the winning touchdown and I thought of you. I miss you, forgive me."
​I’m stunned. Oh, right, the final game. Is it nine p.m. already? Time flies when you’re trying to rebuild the wreckage of your future. He could have just as easily dedicated his thoughts to his new trophy, Sasha. I delete the message before his phoniness makes me sick.
​"Royal College of Music, huh?"
My father sits down beside me. How long has he been there, watching me?
"Yeah, not bad, right?" I reply, gesturing to the monitor.
"You’d be the best there, I have no doubt. You’re just like..."
He cuts himself off abruptly. His face turns somber, almost solemn.
"Like who?" I press him.
After a silence that feels like an era, he answers, "Your mother. You’re as ambitious as she is."
It’s true. My mother runs a massive publishing house, managing my father’s work as well. The perfect couple.
"I tried to be like her, but I can’t. Look at me."
"I am looking at you," he counters, staring into my eyes with rare intensity. "I see a beautiful girl finding her own way. Believe me, your mother isn't perfect, and neither am I. In your own way, you are. I’m proud of you, Emma. I’ll stand by you, always."
"And I’ll stand by you. I love you, Dad."
He gives me one of his shy, rare smiles, then shifts his tone. "Are you planning to call them for an interview?"
"I think so. I’ve already fallen in love with this place."
"Good," he says, standing up. Then, at the doorway, he adds, "Just... be careful once you get there."
"Careful? Dad, you know me. It’s London, not a wolf’s den."
"I’m not talking about the city..." he whispers, vanishing before I can reply.
What does that mean? Probably just typical parental anxiety. I convince myself of that as I slip into my pajamas, ready to crash.
​But sleep is no refuge.

I’m walking a blind path. The darkness is absolute, thick as ink. A shadow walks beside me; it’s my guide, I trust it. We walk for miles in this void, but there is no exit. Suddenly, the shadow stands in front of me, blocking my way.
I see someone beyond that dark silhouette.
"Nick? Get me out of here, please! Take me with you!"
He doesn't look at me. His eyes are fixed on the shadow. Look at me!
He smiles, takes that darkness by the hand, and starts walking again, turning his back on me. I try to move, but my feet are glued to the ground. I call him, I scream his name. Nothing.
Finally, he turns around. His lips utter the words I fear more than death:
"You disappointed me."
He laughs in my face, a harsh, cruel sound, and vanishes into the shadow. I am alone.
"NICK!"

​"NICK!" I scream, bolting upright in bed, my breath hitched.
I’m in my room. It was just a nightmare, the worst one yet. I’ve never dreamed of Nick before. He abandoned me in the dark.
I’m sweating, my heart hammering against my ribs. I grab my phone to call him—I need to hear his voice—but it’s five in the morning. He’ll be asleep.
I drop the phone and curl up under the covers. In a few hours, there’s the graduation ceremony.
Please, enough for today. I just want to sleep.