Do Me Like No Other

KATHERINE'S POV

People often talked about an unfortunate life. If they wanted a real example, they should have looked at me. Twenty-five, fresh out of college, living in New York, and blessed with the best roommate a girl could ask for.

Two weeks post-graduation, my to-do list still felt a mile long: call my family, hunt for a job, and the big one was to figure out how to nudge John toward a proposal. For Pete sake it was taking forever!

The thought made my stomach clench. This was New York, not some backwater where arranged marriages were the norm. Even after six years in the city, the traditions of my family still tugged at me. Or rather, my family's expectations did. Since I happen to be the first child or a very prestigious family, I was supposed to marry someone "in my class" so I continue our prestigious bloodline.

"Wanna nag about my latest cooking?"

I groaned, flipping over to grab my phone. Susan's cooking attempts were legendary, though not in a good way. "Sure," I mumbled, bracing myself for another burnt offering.

"I'm so sorry, Kath," Susan said, flashing her signature toothy grin.

I couldn't fault her; neither of us could boil water without setting off the smoke alarm. One time , Perfect.

She started wiping down the counters, then headed toward her room. I followed, forcing a smile.

"Spill it, girl. You're secretly plotting my demise for ruining breakfast, aren't you?" she asked.

I nodded, tossing my phone onto her bed. My water wasn't working so I decided to used hers. Inside the bathroom, I discovered a fresh hell: the water was off. Again! Our perpetually late rent payments had consequences; no water, no electricity, no peace.

We always paid, eventually! That doesn't mean he should cut our water for days and we still have to pay full. Gosh!

"Does he expect us to recycle our own bathwater now?" Susan asked.

I half-expected the building's caretaker to start pounding on the door, demanding rent, but the hallway remained quiet. Fine. Who needed water to brush their teeth, anyway?

I gave my teeth a cursory scrub, tossed the brush aside, and went to find Susan answering a knock at the door. Snap!

"The caretaker?" I whispered.

Susan beamed, showing a pizza box and two cans of soda. She gave a little wiggle. "We eat pizza for another two weeks and we start smelling like it," I said, but couldn't help smiling.

Hot pizza and icy soda were always a win, especially when I didn't have to foot the bill. Guilt gnawed at me; I should offer to pay my share. I will.

As we ate in comfortable silence, Susan fixed me with that look-the unspoken "Say your secret" stare.

I sighed inwardly. My stories usually bored her: ancient family practices, my longing for Romania, my sweet-but-stodgy boyfriend John who, bless his heart, dragged me to a Romanian cultural event to make me feel at home.

She already knew too much.

"I dumped Nicole yesterday," Susan smirked. I swallowed my envy, pasting on another smile. At twenty-five, the idea of casual s*x terrified me, as did the thought of another relationship. Meanwhile, I was stuck with John's immature behavior.

Would that make me the bad friend if I admit I was always jealous of my best friend? No one was stopping from living the life I wanted but the deep seated fear that my family might be caught in a scandal even with such distance, Susan's freedom made me want to hate her. Or at least join her which I was too much of a coward to do.

Susan, on the other hand, was a free spirit, cycling through partners like I changed my mind about takeout. If only I had her courage.

"That's your third breakup in two months," I said, my mouth full of pizza. She shrugged, swallowed hard that she nearly choked and grinned.

"I know, right? That dude, Richie, he dumped me because he saw my cousin hug me! My cousin who's studying abroad in Thailand!"

Uh-huh. I doubted that was the whole story, but who was I to judge? It was her life. At least her family loves her. Mine had practically tried to marry me off at eighteen because some boy dared to put his arm around me. That dude hugged me!

Bucharest still had its teeth in me.

More than six years, one scholarship, and Aunt Ileana's single phone call that didn't end in screaming; that was the margin between me and a gold band soldered onto my finger at eighteen.

The rest of the family had already picked out the dress.

Watching Susan, I couldn't help but remember the last time John had lost his temper. He had accused me of ignoring his calls, his eyes flashing with jealousy and rage I have never seen before. My father never laid a hand on my mother-but did that mean he didn't love her enough to be possessive?

My eyes stung. Was love always synonymous with violence, manipulation, and control? Why couldn't I be more like Susan, fearless and independent?

I have heard and seen countless women break free from abusive relationships and overbearing families, but I felt paralyzed. I want to be free, to be properly loved and not hide small bruises from John like a coward.

Before a tear could escape, Susan thrust my phone in my face. "You're getting a call from 'Maa'?" she said, her brow furrowed.

Maa?

My hand trembled as I took the phone. I couldn't ignore it. "Maa is my mom," I explained, forcing a smile.

"Yeah I know" she rolled her eyes.

Susan's gaze sharpened with concern. She had every reason to be worried, especially since my family hadn't bothered to contact me in over five years.

"Are you going to answ..." She stopped mid-sentence.

The call ended, and I was about to call back when the phone rang again. D*mn it. As much as it terrified me, I had to answer.

"Hello, Maa," I said, my voice shaking.

I listened, my heart pounding in my chest. Unlike the last time she called after my escape, she wasn't screaming, she wasn't threatening me. She simply stated facts, each word laced with command and something I couldn't trace.

I didn't get a single word in before she hung up.

Really? That was it? It was all my fault? I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have been so selfish.

Silence descended. We stared at each other, Susan and I.

Sh*t. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I felt like a huge disappoinment. Like I was some greedy self centered person that cared little for others.

"Is your mom okay?" Susan asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, forcing a smile and moved into her open arms.

"Talk to me, Kat. Did someone die?" Susan asked, giving me a gentle squeeze.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling away. I took a shaky breath and smoothed my hair.

"Mara," I began, taking Susan's hand. "My little sister is getting married in three days, and..."

For a split second, Susan's eyes glazed over with boredom, then snapped back into focus. Understanding dawned, her hands flying to her mouth. "Married? What the heck? Isn't she, like, fifteen?"

I laughed. "Mara is nineteen, and I have to be in Bucharest by Friday-three days from now," I grinned weakly.

Susan just stared, her expression making me feel like I was overreacting. But I wasn't. Mara, I knew, dreamed of a perfect life, a white picket fence, a fairy-tale romance. But not with him. Not with the same creep I had almost been forced to marry years ago.

"You don't seem too thrilled for your sister," Susan muttered, her tone slightly judgmental. "I know she is still young but what aren't you telling me?"

I hesitated. "She's marrying Samuel-Sam," I said, bracing myself for her reaction. "Yes, that Sam," I added for clarification.

Susan recoiled, stepping away from me. "The f*ck?" Her eyes wide, when lips twitching in visible disgust " The Sam who almost had his way with you?" she whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

I almost laughed, but the sound caught in my throat. "He didn't do that to me, Susan. He just... He just almost did," I shrugged, trying to downplay the trauma.

Feeling exposed under her intense gaze, I turned away, pretending to tidy up the already-pristine countertop. Just then, a series of loud bangs echoed from the hallway, and we both knew who it was.

"Him?" I asked as I sniffed.

No body else knocks like that but I needed to talk about something else.

"I know you TWO ARE IN THERE!!!!" He yelled from outside.

My throat choked, I really wasn't in the mood to check the door but I turned away.

"Don't worry, I'll handle him," Susan said, brushing past me to answer the caretaker at the door.

All night, I lay awake on the sofa, the questions swirling in my mind like a restless tide.

Did Mara really want this marriage? Was she being forced into it because I ran away? Did she hate me for abandoning her all those years ago? What if this was a trap to lure me back?

"... kidding me? What do you mean it doesn't matter?!"

Susan's voice, though muffled, cut through my thoughts. She should have been whispering sweet nothings to some new man-of-the-week by now. Not that I blamed her; she was too beautiful to be ignored for long. Her confident, she was just too brave.

"...You don't have to be a loser, John," I heard her hiss. "What do you mean you want to 'claim' her last? She barely tolerates you!"

I frowned, a knot forming in my stomach making me nauseous.

It couldn't be my John. Could it? There was an edge to Susan's voice, a raw intensity that made me want to eavesdrop. I knew I shouldn't but....

"Screw that" I muttered.

I rose and crept toward her room, the door slightly ajar. Her vanity was a disaster zone, half-finished makeup tubes and scattered brushes littering the surface. Her usually impeccable hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and the dim light cast half her face in shadow, highlighting the distress in her eyes. It was glossy, like she was crying or about to cry.

"Are you scared of her?" Susan spat. "Am I not enough for you?!" she yelled, her voice cracking.

As if sensing my presence, her gaze snapped to the doorway. I stammered, feigning sleepiness.

"Couldn't sleep either?" I mumbled, hoping I sounded convincing.

Susan hesitated, her expression unreadable. "I was just about to come wake you up, Kat," she said, dropping her phone onto the bed.

She gestured for me to come in, and I perched on the edge of the mattress, watching as she rummaged through her closet. She emerged with a slinky mini dress, holding it up to my face.

"Put it on. Let's have some fun on your last night," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer.

I managed a weak laugh as she tossed the dress at me. There was something in her eyes, this tinge of anger. It was like a mirage but I saw it. The corner of her lips and nose danced in disgust. Or the way her finges seem to make sure it wasn't touching me.

Could be my imagination. Just stress.

She had done it before, maybe when we joke about something but this time I saw it clearly.

"I'll be back after the wedding, Susan. Don't be so dramatic," I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood; my mood.

She didn't respond, her silence unnerving.

While I watched, she busied herself with her appearance, meticulously applying makeup and styling her hair.

"You're serious, aren't you?" I said, letting the dress fall onto the bed. I turned toward the sound of my ringing phone.

When I looked back at Susan, I could have sworn I saw her glare at me. Was it the reflection of the dim light half her face or just my head.

"Got to take the call" I muttered and rushed out.

Shot! It was John.

I hesitated, then answered the call. It was as good a time as any to tell him about my impromptu trip to Bucharest. Not like I was going to tell him about my sister's wedding or about Sam or more about my family. It wasn't like we weren't on the verge of crashing.

"Hi, babe," I began, my voice trembling slightly.

Silence.

I fumbled for the right words, his silence making it even harder. Usually, he would have peppered me with questions about my day, my whereabouts, and maybe even offered some semblance of conversation.

"Uhmmm... John, I have to..."

"I'm breaking up with you," John interrupted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart plummeted, and a wave of nausea washed over me. My throat tightened and as much as I almost suddenly felt like I shouldn't be this broken, I tried to pain in but it didn't work. My lips started to quiver and fanned my face with my other palm.

"I said, it's over, Kat," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The initial shock quickly morphed into a burning rage. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him what an insensitive jerk he was. But-

"I heard you, John. It's okay," I said instead, and ended the call.

I collapsed onto the sofa, burying my face in my hands. He had always treated me "somehow," but I thought he loved me. He didn't have to be so callous, especially now, when I needed him the most.

Worse, my feelings were a tangled mess. A part of me had always wanted to end the relationship, but I also craved his affection. I knew he was a jerk, but... Did that mean I had no self-worth? I promise I wasn't some self pity weak woman.

I heard the click of Susan's heels as she emerged from her room. "You still coming, Roomie?" she announced, striking a pose. "John can join us, so..."

"We broke up," I blurted out, cutting her off.

She froze, her expression blank. Normally Susan was someone with so much expressions. Either eyes twitch, or a grunt, she would do something but this....this was too flat. She wasn't even cussing him out.

I brushed past her, grabbing the red dress she had offered. It was a daring bodycon with an open back. I had the perfect shoes and bag to match, and as I got ready, I fought back the tears threatening to spill. My quivering lips wouldn't stop messing my lipgloss. I kept blinking back tear that I couldn't draw my eyes liner well.

I tried to project an air of strength, to accept that things just happen, but it wasn't happening.

"Uhmmm, are you sure you want to go out?" Susan asked, her voice laced with concern. That, that tinge in her voice was real.

I forced a smile. For the first time in my life, I felt a surge of rebellious certainty.

"Call the Uber. I'm ready to paint the town red," I said, attempting a playful giggle that fell flat.

It wasn't funny, and Susan didn't laugh. She just stared in disbelief as I grabbed her phone and booked the ride. I avoided her pitying gaze while we waited for the car. Soon, we were stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of the bar.

"Katherine, you know John is..."

"I don't want to hear about him," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

My gaze was fixed on the entrance as we walked inside. At that moment, I just needed a strong drink, a bad decision, and to catch my flight the next day.

I slid onto a stool at the bar, watching as Susan took a seat beside me. Her eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for someone, oblivious to the bartender standing in front of her.

"Something suitable for a breakup," I told him, forcing a smile.

He offered a sympathetic-I know how you feel-smile before turning to mix my drink. My throat burn as I downed the first glass in one gulp and gestured for another, which he poured without hesitation.

"You know it's my first breakup," I said, laughing as he filled the second glass.

Like a seasoned therapist, he nodded toward Susan. "She broke your heart?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

I frowned slightly, but laughed it off. "This one's just looking for the boyfriend of the week," I said, downing the second drink.

Woah! I felt that one.

The second drink was harder to swallow; my head swam, and I contemplated a third.

I glanced up at the bartender, who chuckled as he served the customer next to me. His face softened with genuine concern as he refilled my glass, his eyes meeting mine.

"This is strong stuff, Queen. Don't let no lowlife turn you into a drunken mess," he said, watching me toss back the third shot. "Look around. Some good folks in here. You might find more than just this week's partner if you want." He winked, gesturing subtly to a corner of the bar.

I laughed, following his gaze. Gosh, he might be right.

A sly smile spread across my face as I spotted him.

Mr. Handsome.

"Go get your man, darling," the bartender whispered, giving me a gentle nudge.

Shyly, I looked away. He seemed way out of my league. His broad shoulders, his enigmatic expression under the dim bar light, the melting ice in his glass, his strong hands resting on the table.

"My goodness," I breathed.

It seemed I had finally caught Susan's attention. She looked at me, then at Mr. Handsome. Our eyes met, and I expected her to smile or offer some words of encouragement, but instead, she scoffed.

"Don't hurt yourself, Katherine," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I bet you 100 bucks you won't even get his name."

Her words stung, I felt belittled and needed to prove her wrong. My gaze snapped to the bartender as he refilled Susan's glass.

"I'm not lying," Susan said, taking a sip. "She doesn't have the guts," she added, her eyes challenging me.

Red! I saw red, though it was probably just the bar's neon lights.

Without thinking, I downed the third drink and smoothed my hair.

"Get my money ready," I yelled, and marched toward him.

I knew I should probably reconsider, but I didn't. I stood before him, watching as he swirled the ice in his glass before looking up.

His expression softened as he met my gaze, and he rose to his feet in silence. He Squinted his eyes in the dim place as of trying to get a good look for my face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Fueled by the shots, recklessness, and a desperate need to prove Susan wrong, I closed the distance between us. My body brushed against his cautiously, and I reached out, my hand lightly caressing his zipper.

"Kiss me like no other," I whispered, my voice husky with desire.

I felt his body tense. He grew hard in my palm and for a few seconds, it scared me but....no backing down. Not now.

His eyes, previously unreadable, now burned with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. He lowered his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine before closing for the kiss.

I felt his erection press against me as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. He kissed me with a raw passion that made my knees weak.

I wanted more. I wanted everything...

"Uhhhhh, Kat? Katherine," I heard Susan call, her voice laced with disbelief.

I pulled away, turning to see her standing there, holding out a hundred-dollar bill. She looked bitter, but I didn't care. I snatched the money, flashed Mr. Kisser a dazzling smile, and walked out of the bar, head held high.

I walked out with his taste still on my tongue and a hundred dollars I never needed.

Some mistakes you make sober. Some you make on purpose.

The red-eye flight was the perfect escape, a numbing void where I didn't have to think. I was still battling a hangover, and the turbulence churned my stomach. Although still slightly hungover, barely had time to think about the man at the club or how Susan must have felt.

Snap! I need to apologize to get and John, Good riddance to New York, good riddance to John.

Stepping off the plane in Bucharest, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. Was it the familiar scent of the air, or was I just feeling sentimental?

As I walked through the terminal, I spotted a man holding a sign with my name. It couldn't be for me; my mother wouldn't risk the media catching me before I even reached the villa.

I reached for my phone. The network was overloaded, and cabs were scarce. Not that I was in a hurry. Tomorrow, my sister would marry that Sam of all people, and I felt powerless to stop it. Not like I really wanted to stop it anyway.

"Madam Katherine Angelov?"

I looked up to see the man with the sign.

His dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few stray curls escaping to frame his face. He wore black glasses, their lenses reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Ileana sent me," he added.

I couldn't help but smile. There was a small comfort in knowing that someone, at least, was welcoming me back. Even if that someone sent a creepy escort. And yes, he definitely radiated a creepy vibe.

He hadn't introduced himself, didn't offer a smile, and wore an expression that suggested he moonlighted as a hitman. The kind of man to use a silencer and end you in a crowded airport.

"You can call me Peter," he said, opening the back door of the car.

Peter... Peter... Peeterrr.

While he loaded my luggage, I racked my brain, trying to place the name. I repeated it silently until he slid behind the wheel, removed his glasses, and turned to face me.

"Oh, my god!" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

It was him-the man who had driven me to the airport years ago. The irony wasn't lost on me: he was now driving me back to the same cage he had helped me escape.

As he drove, Peter glanced at me in the rearview mirror. His expression had softened, the serial killer vibe replaced with something almost...gentle? Maybe because I could now see his eyes. His kind eyes.

It could also be the relief of seeing a fairly familiar face, or it was the anxiety of facing my family.

My mom, my dad, my cousins-no one had attempted to contact me in all these years. I knew them, especially my mother. If she had truly wanted to find me, she would have tracked me down within days. But she hadn't really tried.

"Sir? How are they now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Peter hesitated, his gaze flicking to mine in the mirror. He shrugged, his face hard to know what he was thinking.

"Ileana, as always, is a gem. You remember her, right?" he asked, trying to draw me into conversation.

"As usual, she's the aunt you want to be when you grow up," I said, managing a grimace.

"Your mom remains the same: beautiful and glamorous." He almost rolled his eyes. Maybe he did, just a little.

His right hand groped around the console until he found a protein bar. He offered it to me, and I took it, even though I had no appetite.

"Your cousins are all the same, trying to outdo each other to please your mom and be Mara's friend," he paused, smiling as I took a bite of the bar. "Mara is now a beautiful young gir-woman. She never stopped playing the Fluier, even when she was homeschooled after you left."

My heart twisted. It felt like he was subtly blaming me for my sister's changes. Was she bullied? Or depressed? Why homeschooled.

"Ileana never stops talking about her, even visits her as often as she can," he added, his voice filled with something akin to pride. Like a doting father, or something more.

"You like my aunt?" I asked, unable to resist the question.

He remained silent as he made the final turn onto the long driveway leading to my parents' villa.

The familiar opulence of my childhood home washed over me, and I managed a sad smile. Everything was almost exactly as I remembered it.

The large pool shimmering in the eastern corner, the manicured golf course on the opposite end, and the imposing mansion standing proudly in the center. The guards and maids were strategically placed, ready to cater to every whim. But something had changed.

The security cameras.

More advanced, motion-sensitive, and I wouldn't be surprised if they could scan your soul.

"Ileana is a wonderful woman, Madam Katherine," Peter said with a smile as he turned off the engine. That was enough to confirm his feelings for my aunt.

I stepped out of the car, inhaling deeply. There was always something about the air in Bucharest, especially around this villa, that smelled like wealthy depression. Perfect.

"Katie?" someone called. The voice was so familiar, I would recognize it anywhere.

"Oh my god!" The voice squeaked this time. Before I could brace myself, I was engulfed in a hug. She squeezed me tightly, giggling before releasing me.

Alena, one of my cousins.

She looked much the same, only with larger breasts. Her designer outfit, platinum hair, and sparkling jewelry screamed "My parents got money."

Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk as she took a step back.

"You don't look good," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "What is this you are wea..."

"Please get lost, Alena," I said dryly, cutting her off. "When I need a worshiper, I'll let you know," I muttered under my breath.

P*ss*d, I didn't care.

She was one of the reasons I had left in the first place! My mother constantly compared us, holding her up as the "perfect daughter."

I turned and headed toward the house, where a servant led me to my room. It was my old room, untouched. The bed linens looked fresh and smelled faintly of lavender. I assumed they were either constantly washed or replaced.

I closed my eyes, trying to relax. But the only image that surfaced was the last time I had been in this room: the night Mara and I had talked about our dreams for the future, the night before I abandoned her.

"Good to be back?"

I jumped, startled. It was my mother.

Peter was right; she looked almost the same-kind of. It seemed she had gotten a little lip filler, but that was it.

"Hi, Mom," I said, barely a whisper.

She laughed, giving me a brief side hug as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"It took your sister's wedding to bring you home," she said, feigning disappointment. "That wasn't very nice, but I'll have your measurements taken later, just to confirm," she added, her tone unsettlingly casual.

That was suspicious. She wasn't mad, wasn't angry that I had left. Maybe she was simply suppressing her emotions. She had been a 'save face' woman.

"New Jersey; New York wasn't that bad," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Shocked, I recoiled. A small smile played on her lips, and I could tell she was enjoying my discomfort.

"You didn't think I would let my baby stay that far away without knowing where she was, did you? Although it was hard seeing you struggling with your rent" she said, her voice cracking into a small chuckle. "Your father isn't happy, though, but he'll be back in time for the wedding tomorrow."

Mom rose, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and walked toward the door.

"Mara's wedding is going to be a media sensation. Try to surprise her before then." With that, she left, leaving me reeling.

I should have felt welcomed, but I didn't. Not with this unsettling calmness from my mother. Hopefully, Mara would be more forthcoming.

Exhausted, hungry, and filled with dread, I made my way to Mara's room-the room she had occupied since childhood.

I knocked once, waited a few seconds, and knocked again.

"Huh. Mara? Mara, it's... me," I called out.

I was about to knock again when the door opened, and a maid emerged. I stepped aside to let her pass, but she remained in front of me, her gaze darting everywhere but my face.

"I'm sorry, Madam Katherine, your sister doesn't want to see you," she mumbled.

I had expected it, deserved it, and wasn't cowardly enough to back down.

"She'll change her mind. I need to see her."

My heart sank as I saw her, my little Mara. She had blossomed into a beautiful woman, just as Peter had said. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, but the dark circles under her eyes, her flat expression, and her vacant gaze sent a chill down my spine.

"Hey Sis. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow," Mara said, her voice blank.

Before I could respond, she pulled the maid inside and slammed the door in my face. She slammed the door!

I sighed. Something within me settled like I had expected it so getting furious wasn't an option.

Could it be that Mara already hated me?

I trudged back to my room, where my phone was ringing. It was Susan. I ignored it, turning my attention to my belongings.

Except for a thin layer of dust, everything was exactly as I had left it. My diary, my jewelry, my favorite outfits, and my Fluier.

"You," I whispered, picking it up. "Can I still play you?" I asked, running my fingers over its smooth surface.

My phone rang again. Same Susan. If I didn't answer, she would keep calling, especially since I had promised to call her as soon as I arrived.

"Hey, girl," Susan squeaked, her voice high-pitched. "You didn't call me!"

I imagined her pouting, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and half-empty cans of soda.

"I'm so sorry. I was trying to get settled," I began " And the other night, I know I was drunk but that doesn't mean I should have been that rude and ...can you hear me?"

The background noise on her end was deafening. I wondered if she was at home or out partying. Knowing Susan, she was probably with her latest conquest, some random hot guy. From the background music to tye grunts and slapping sounds like she was moving something.

"Nahh! You were a drunken mess. Just fill me . Tell me everything! How's Mara? Did your parents give you the third degree?" She grunted.

I forced a smile. "My mom knew all along that I was in New York. She knew exactly where I was and just didn't care. And my dad? I think he was too busy to even notice I was gone."

Susan groaned and laughed immediately like she was trying to cover up. There was someone else there, or she was trying to hide something.

I opened my mouth to speak, but what I heard next shattered my world. I recognized that voice anywhere.

"You know it's messed up that we're doing this while she's on the phone, right?" I heard John grunt.

Susan quickly shushed him, and I heard muffled whispers. She was trying to keep me from hearing them.

"What? She's not coming back, is she?" I heard him say.

"She's my best friend," Susan snapped. "She'll need a place to come back to, and I want her back."

My heart ached, but I had to ask. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Joh-John? Is that John, Su?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Silence.

My heart pounded in my chest. The longer she remained silent, the more I unraveled. I tried to stay calm, but tears welled in my eyes.

"Yeah, it's John. So what?" John said, his voice dripping with arrogance. Without another word, the call ended.

Dead silence.

I stared at the blank screen until my reflection looked like someone else's ghost. I couldn't cry, I couldn't breathe. I felt lost, stuck in something I couldn't place yet.

A Knock at the door snapped me back to reality and I rushed to wipe the tear off my face and chin.

"Madam Katherine, your seamstress is here."

I smiled. It felt like pulling teeth. Just another time to play dress up.

"Send her in," I said. "Make it red. The bride shouldn't be the only one who looks good in blood." I tried to joke.

Who was I kidding?