15. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 15
Magnolia Steel
The blinds are closed, and the TV casts a dull glow across my living room. I’m buried beneath a mountain of blankets that haven’t seen a wash cycle in weeks.
I couldn’t tell you when I last stepped into daylight. Sometimes the rays sneak through the cracks in the blinds—too happy, too bright—like they can’t understand that I want no part of them.
I’m surrounded by barely touched takeout containers and a trash can overflowing with tissues. So many tissues. An empty wine glass sits on the coffee table—glass number… I’m not sure. Not enough to make me forget him. Only enough to blur the edges.
The TV is on YouTube autoplay, stuck in its current obsession: Alex Sebring’s rugby highlights. I’ve seen this one already. Twice. Doesn’t matter. I’ll watch him again.
He’s electric.
Fast. Brutal. Commanding. Every time he charges down the field with the ball, it hits me right in the chest. He played like he had something to prove—like every second mattered. The commentators call him The Wall. A beast. Unstoppable.
He told me he played professional rugby, and that he was sort of a big deal. But I didn’t know I was in love with a damn legend.
To the rest of the world, he’s a superstar. But to me, he was… mine .
And now he’s not.
I haven’t cried today. That’s something at least. But not because I’m fine or getting better. Because there’s nothing left in me.
The sadness settled into my bones days ago. I don’t notice the sting of tears anymore.
I can’t remember the last time I showered, and I’ve eaten nothing of substance since… well, I can’t say when.
Violet brought soup this week. I think. It could’ve been last week. My stomach growls like it’s trying to remind me I still exist, but I ignore it. Everything tastes like nothing.
The front door opens, no knock. Violet stomps into my living room with the energy of a woman on a mission. “I swear to God. I’m gonna have to peel you off that fucking couch with a spatula.”
She stops. One sniff of the air and her face contorts like she’s stepped into a landfill. I don’t turn my head, but I hear the disgusted noise she makes. “Jesus, Mags. You reek like gym socks, old tears, and emotional damage.”
“Go away.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
She crosses the room, yanks the remote out of my hand, and turns off the TV. The silence is deafening.
“Hey! I was watching that.”
“No. Enough of this bullshit.”
She tosses the remote onto the chair like it personally offended her. “You’ve been lying here like a corpse for weeks, binge-watching your ex on YouTube like you’re getting paid by the hour. Your hair looks like it lost a fight with a squirrel. Your skin is so pale I could cast you in a vampire flick without makeup. And when’s the last time you brushed your teeth? Be honest. I can handle the truth.”
I don’t answer.
“Exactly.” She grabs the blanket and rips it off me. “You stink. I’m talking medically concerning levels of stink.”
I recoil like she’s yanked off my security blanket. “Violet, stop.”
She doesn’t. She grabs my arm and hauls me up. I’m so weak, I can’t even fight her. My body flops forward like a rag doll.
“What’s the point? Everything I love is gone.”
Violet’s face softens, but only a little. “ You’re not gone. I’m not gone. And you don’t get to disappear because he did.”
She shoves me into the bathroom and turns on the shower. “Bathe. Now. Or I will scrub you myself, and I promise you will not enjoy it.”
The door closes behind me, and I stand motionless for a long time, staring at the tile like it might give me answers. To be clear, it doesn’t.
I peel off Alex’s oversized T-shirt I’ve been living in, step out of my leggings, and reach up to touch the diamond pendant hanging around my neck.
My fingers close around it, and for a second, I can’t breathe. It’s like tearing open a wound I’ve been trying to pretend had healed.
I stare at the pendant and the way the diamonds catch the light even in this dim bathroom. It still looks beautiful. It still looks like hope. But it’s not. Not anymore.
Alex… it’s beautiful. I’ll never take it off. I meant those words. But how was I to know that things would go this way?
My chest aches as I unclasp the chain, like I’m letting go of something precious.
Because I am.
This hurts. And it’s not closure, but it’s a beginning. A crack in the armor I’ve wrapped around my grief. The first step toward accepting that our forever isn’t happening.
Hot water scalds my skin when I step into the shower, but I don’t flinch. I stand there, letting it burn, letting it rinse away the pieces of myself I no longer recognize.
I wash my hair. Shave my legs. Brush my teeth at the sink.
Who is this hollow-eyed girl in the mirror? I don’t recognize her.
I shuffle out of the bathroom in clean pajamas with wet hair clinging to my shoulders. The steam did something to my brain—shook a few cobwebs loose. I’m still hollow and exhausted but less like a ghost.
Violet’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, standing over my panini press like it’s a power tool. The aroma of melted cheese and toasted bread fills the air as she glances over her shoulder, a relieved expression on her face as I pad in on bare feet.
“Well, look who survived basic hygiene.”
I grunt something that might be a thank-you and sink onto the barstool, pulling my knees up to my chest.
She plates a grilled cheese cut into two triangles, sliding it in front of me. “With Wickles pickles, the way you like it. Eat.”
My stomach twists at the sight of food. “I’m not hungry.”
She crosses her arms. “Well, I don’t give a damn. You’re eating it anyway. You look like someone photoshopped your body smaller and forgot to adjust your head.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She points at the plate. “Chew. Swallow. Repeat. That’s how it’s done.”
With a sigh, I pick up half the sandwich and take a bite. My stomach clenches like it’s not sure what to do with actual food, but the buttery crunch hits my taste buds and something in me stirs.
“Good girl,” Violet says.
I chew, forcing down another bite. Then another.
She stands across from me, watching with those sharp eyes of hers. “You’ve lost too much weight.”
I shrug. “Breakup diets work.”
“Breakup spirals don’t. You scared the shit out of me.”
My eyes fall to the half-eaten sandwich on my plate, my fingers curling around the crust. “I think I was born with a broken heart, like there’s something in me that’s always going to be cracked.”
Violet doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t give me pity eyes or rush to fill the silence. She watches me for a beat and leans in with something softer in her eyes. Something fierce. “Possibly, but you were also born with teeth.”
I blink at her, confused.
“You were born tough. Even when you don’t want to be. Even when it hurts. That heart of yours might’ve come with fractures, but it also came with fire. And you’re still here. That counts for something.”
“I’m not sure how to stop hurting like this.”
Violet reaches across the counter, her voice gentler than it’s been all day. “Maybe today isn’t about not hurting. Let’s shoot for… feeling different.”
I swallow hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “How?”
She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Start by doing the thing that always makes you happy.”
I furrow my brow. “Work?”
Violet nods. “You’ve always come alive when you’re creating. Designing. Organizing. Making beauty out of chaos. That’s your thing. And if there’s anything that’ll remind you who you are, it’s that.”
I stare at her for a long moment, then look down at my hands. They’re trembling. But maybe—just maybe—they still remember how to build something.
Violet clears the plates and tidies my kitchen while I stay perched at the counter, still bundled in clean pajamas, damp hair, and a raw heart.
She half turns, her gaze catching mine. “How is your money situation?”
I arch a brow. “You want a breakdown of my net worth?”
She tosses a dish towel at me. “I wanna be reassured that you’re not one missed-rent payment away from sleeping on my sofa.”
“I’m fine. You know me. I’ve been smart. I have investments. Decent savings. I won’t be on your couch anytime soon. Promise.”
Violet nods, satisfied. But I can tell the what’s coming next before she ever opens her mouth.
“And work?”
I wince. “No clue. I haven’t looked. I know I need to, but I––” I trail off, trying to find the right words.
She picks up the thread for me. “You’re afraid of giving your heart to another company, another boss, only to be tossed out again like you never mattered.”
I nod. “Right.”
We’re quiet for a beat, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound.
Violet leans forward on the counter. “It could be time for you to stop giving your heart away and build something that’s yours.”
I blink. “Meaning what? Start a business?”
She shrugs. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve just emerged from my own personal apocalypse?”
She points at me with a smirk. “Which makes it the perfect time. You’ve already hit rock bottom, and the only direction is up. Now you get to build with no fear of falling.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“You know what I mean.”
I chew on the thought, unsure. “It’s not like I have a business plan just waiting in a drawer.”
“No, but you’ve got talent. Vision. A killer work ethic. Connections. And don’t even get me started on your style choices. People would kill for your eye, Mags.”
I let the silence stretch for a long moment. And then, with hesitation, I say what’s on my mind. “I could pull from my retirement. The tax hit would be a bitch, but it’s the only way.”
Violet’s eyes light up. “Now that’s the Magnolia Steel I love.”
A tiny ember of purpose glows inside me. I shake my head, the confession falling from my lips before I can filter it. “I don’t know where to start or what the hell I’m doing.”
“But you want to figure it out, don’t you?”
I hesitate for half a second… then nod. “Yeah. I do.”
“That’s all you need.”
Violet leaves just after nine, promising to check in tomorrow and threatening bodily harm if I don’t text her back. She kisses the top of my head, pulls on her sneakers, and disappears into the hallway like a woman who knows the battle isn’t over—but maybe the tide has shifted.
The apartment is quiet again, but it’s different now. Less haunted. Like something might be stirring in the ashes.
A phoenix.
I pad back into the living room, curling up on the couch with a blanket that smells like detergent instead of depression. The TV screen isn’t black anymore. Violet switched it off YouTube while I was in the shower. Now, the screen saver displays a photo of a baby polar bear sprawled belly-up in the snow, one paw in the air like it’s waving at the camera. It’s peaceful. Ridiculously cute. And somehow exactly what I need.
It shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does.
A small tug in my chest. A flicker of quiet.
The tiniest breath of peace.
I don’t turn Alex back on. I don’t reach for the remote. I sit there for a moment, listening to the quiet. Letting it settle.
And then I reach for my laptop.
No more ghosts tonight.
My fingers hesitate over the trackpad before I open a blank browser and start a search: how to start your own interior design company.
It seems stupid at first—silly, even. But I keep going.
A new tab opens. Then another. And another.
I jot down notes. Ideas. Names. Words that spark. I start a Pinterest board, pinning color palettes and spaces I love. Mood boards. Branding ideas. Nothing structured, nothing permanent—just little pieces of who I am, and who I hope to become.
The wound inside me still aches—tender and bruised—but it’s not the only thing I feel anymore.
Movement.
Hope.
I click on a spreadsheet template, half-smiling as I plug in the beginnings of a budget. The numbers blur, and my hand trembles over the mouse pad, but I force myself to focus.
After a few rows, I open a new tab and begin a new search: commercial spaces to rent in Charleston. It’s ridiculous—I don’t even have a name for the business yet. But scrolling through photos of empty storefronts and airy lofts does something to me.
I imagine color palettes on blank walls. Fabric swatches fanned across sleek worktables. My name on the door.
It’s too soon. Too uncertain. But at least the ache in my chest isn’t only grief. It’s a possibility.
Morning’s approaching by the time I close the laptop.
I’m not okay. Not yet. But I will be.