Chapter 28 #2
She flinches like I slapped her.
Maksim clears his throat, the sound soft but commanding. "Perhaps we sit," he suggests, like he's giving her mercy. Like he's giving me space.
My mother nods frantically. "Yes. Please. I just—Blue, I need to talk to you. I needed to see you."
I put my hand on my hip. "I'm right here. Talk."
Her gaze flicks past me.
Red comes into view, slow and steady, like he's deliberately making himself calm for my sake. He stops at my shoulder, close enough that I can feel him without him touching me.
My mother's eyes land on the faint bruising on his cheek. Her mouth parts. She whispers, "Oh my God. Red, I—" She swallows hard, eyes tearing.
He doesn't respond, keeping his expression emotionless.
My mother looks back at me with desperation. Her voice shakes. "I'm so upset with Adrian. I told him he went too far. I told him—"
"You told him and then what? He patted you on the head and told you it was for my own good?" I snap.
Her lips tremble. "Blue, please don't do this."
"Don't do what?" I step forward, forcing her to hold my gaze. "Don't say the part out loud? Don't say that you've been letting him control everything for years while you stood behind him pretending you couldn't stop it?"
She squeezes her eyes shut. A tear slips down her cheek.
I should feel something softer. I should feel sorry for her.
But right now, all I feel is the bruise in my chest where Red's name lives.
"I didn't know where you went after you called me."
"Good. Now you have a very tiny taste of what it's like when a loved one is missing. Doesn't feel very good, does it?" I lash out.
She opens her eyes, hurt flashing. "I'm your mother."
"And I'm your daughter," I say, quieter now, because my anger is sharp but my pain is deeper. "And this is who I love. This is who loves me. I get to choose, not you and not Dad."
Silence drops between us, curling the tension tighter.
Red's hand touches my lower back, reminding me I'm not alone.
My mother's voice comes out small. "Blue…you're pregnant?"
My lie is a grenade going off. My jaw clamps. Red goes still behind me.
Maksim clears his throat. "Please. Let's go sit down." He motions for Mom to go into the sitting room.
She stares at me with tears dripping.
"Blue, Maksim is right. This conversation is best inside, not in the foyer," Red nudges.
"Fine." I stomp over to the couch and sit.
Mom follows, lowering herself next to me.
I scoot to the other cushion.
She shoots me an expression like I slapped her.
"I think it's best if we give them some privacy," Red suggests.
I look at him in surprise. "I don't keep secrets from you."
He gently smiles, leans down, and kisses the top of my head. "Yes. I know. But you and your mom need to work through things. We'll be on the balcony if you need us."
My heart pounds harder.
They disappear.
Mom reaches for my hand before I can stop her. She softens her voice, like she's coaxing a wounded animal. "Is it true? You're pregnant? Because if it's true, then your father will—he will calm down. He'll have to. He'll—"
"He'll what?" I laugh, and it's ugly. "He'll respect me because I'm carrying a baby? He'll finally treat Red like a human because he's tied to me in a way he can't cut?"
She closes her mouth, but her lips tremble.
My eyes sting. "That's your plan? That I have to be pregnant to be protected?"
She looks horrified. "No, that's not—"
"It is," I insist. "That's exactly what it is."
She opens her mouth again, but I don't let her speak. I blurt out, "I'm not pregnant. I lied so Uncle Maksim could bring Red home alive."
Her breath catches. Mom stares at me like she doesn't recognize me.
Panic rises, and my skin feels wrong. My thoughts get too loud, and my brain goes looking for an exit. But sometimes the only exit I can see is my own blood.
So I swallow, trying to push it all down. My tongue feels heavy. My voice comes out thinner than I want it to. "Dad hurt the only person who keeps me from spinning out and hurting myself."
Worry fills her expression. More tears bubble.
My stomach twists. It's the part I never say out loud except to Red in therapy or when I feel like everything is off-balance.
It's the part I keep locked behind my teeth because once people know, they look at me differently.
They handle me like glass. They pity me.
Or they get angry, like my pain is an inconvenience.
Tell her.
No. Keep it to yourself.
I remind myself it's my mom. And she's going to leave and run back to my father unless I make her understand that Red isn't just my boyfriend.
She needs to understand he's my lifeline.
I inhale slowly, forcing air into my lungs like it's a choice. My voice wobbles. "Sometimes, I don't know how to be in my own skin."
My mother's eyes widen. "Blue…" She squeezes my hand.
I keep going before she can stop me. "It's not always sadness.
Sometimes it's numb. Sometimes it's too much.
Sometimes it's nothing and everything at once.
I get…trapped. In my head. In the noise.
" My fingers curl into my palms, nails pressing crescents into skin.
"And when it gets like that, my brain tells me I need to feel something.
Something real. Something I can control. "
Tears sting behind my eyes, but I refuse to blink them free.
Mom scoots closer, and this time, I don't push her away.
"I hurt myself," I choke out.
My mother goes pale the same way she did when Brax told her I stalked him, then cut myself and lied to them that his wife harmed me. She whispers, "No, sweetie. No. That's not the answer."
"Yes, Mom. For me, that's how I cope. Not because I want the drama, or to punish you, or Red. I do it because for a second, it quiets everything. It gives me relief. It gives me control when I feel like I'm coming apart."
Her mouth opens, then shuts again, like she doesn't have language for this.
Everything continues to tumble out of me. "I've been doing it for a long time. I got good at hiding it and smiling. I became an expert at being whatever you needed me to be so you wouldn't ask questions."
A sob punches out of her. "Oh my God—Blue, why didn't you tell me?"
I stare at her, stunned by the question. "Because you didn't see me. Not really. You saw the version of me that you and Dad want to see. You saw what was convenient."
"If I had known, I could have helped you," she claims.
I tearfully laugh. "No. You couldn't have. Only Red can. He's the one who helps me. He's the one who stops me from taking sharp objects and scarring myself."
Horror crawls over my mother's face in slow, unmistakable stages.
First, it's confusion, then dawning comprehension, and finally a raw, unfiltered fear that drains the color from her skin.
It's like she's seeing the truth of my pain all at once and realizing there's no way to unsee it, no way to pretend this was ever small or survivable.
Tears roll down my cheeks. I continue, "Red sees all of me.
The good and the bad. The ugly parts. The parts I hate.
The parts I'm ashamed of. He sees me when I'm spiraling, and he doesn't flinch.
He doesn't call me crazy. He doesn't tell me to stop being difficult.
He just stays with me and stops me from doing something I can't take back. "
Mom puts her shaking hand over her mouth.
My throat tightens hard. "He talks to me. He holds my hands so I can't hurt myself. He looks at me like I'm worth loving even when I'm not sure I'm worth keeping."
My mother's tears fall faster. "Blue, I didn't know. I just didn't know."
"You didn't want to know. That would admit I'm not your and Dad's perfect daughter," I state.
She flinches. "That's not fair. We never want or expect you to be perfect."
"That's not how I feel."
"I-I'm sorry if that's what you feel. But I promise you, we don't ever want you to think you have to be perfect. We're not, so how could we possibly ever expect you to be?" she cries out.
I shrug.
She puts her hand on my bicep. "Blue, we love you how you are."
I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand, furious at the tears. Furious at myself for still wanting her to fix it. "I'm telling you this because you need to understand something. Red isn't a phase. He isn't some boy Dad can scare away."
Mom nods. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes. I do now."
I laugh again, softer this time, bitter and raw. "You know what's pathetic? I didn't even start this like a normal person."
Her brows knit. "What do you mean?"
I take a breath and let the humiliation burn through me, because it's part of the story too. "Brax."
Her eyes flicker. It's the name I'm not supposed to say anymore. It's the one that used to make my father's mouth curl with contempt from the moment I first got a crush on him.
My chest tightens. More shame fills me, and I confess, "I stalked him. I watched him. I broke into his home. I showed up where he was. I made excuses. I wouldn't leave him alone because I thought if I could just get him to look at me the right way, I'd feel whole."
She stays silent with an expression I can't read.
I shake my head, and disgust twists in my mouth. "He never wanted me. He tolerated me but always told me it would never be, between us. But I let myself believe scraps were a feast. I told myself he did want me, but he never did."
Mom sympathetically says, "Blue…" But it's like she can't find the words to finish.
"I know," I snap, then soften because my chest hurts. "I know."
She squeezes my hand again.
I inhale to ground myself. Then my voice turns warmer. "I did it again. I stalked Red, too."
Mom's eyes widen.
The truth rolls out of me. "I watched him.
I showed up everywhere he was, both professionally and personally.
I pushed. I clung. I refused to take no for an answer because I didn't know how to stop needing someone.
And at first, he tried to keep a distance.
He tried." A shaky laugh slips out. "But I wouldn't leave him alone. "
Mom's expression doesn't change.
My voice cracks, "I broke into his home too. And then...slowly…he fell." I lift my head finally and look at my mother, daring her to cheapen it.
She doesn't.
So I keep going. "He fell in love with me. Not the polished version. The real me. The messy, chaos-filled girl who panics in silence and digs her nails into her skin to stay present. Even through all that, he fell for me."
My mother cries harder. "Blue—"
"He loves me. And I love him. And I will not let anyone take him away from me. So you and Dad have to choose. It's Red and me, or the four of us are dead to each other."
Mom recoils like she's been slapped.
More determination fills me. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go home. You're going to tell Dad I'm not pregnant. You're going to tell him the truth. Everything I just told you."
She nods frantically, tears flying. "Okay—okay—"
"You're going to tell him Red is off-limits. Now and always."
Her mouth trembles. She swallows and nods.
I vow, "If he ever touches a hair on Red again, I'll never speak to either of you again. So choose. Have me in your life or don't."
Her eyes widen. "No—don't say that—"
"I mean it.
She goes still, like she finally understands I'm not playing this time.
I continue, "If you don't accept Red, then you will never see me again."
Her breath catches. "Sweetie—"
"I will cut you off. All of you. I'll quit my job.
I'll change my number. I will never come over on holidays.
I will never answer your calls. I will move out of this city so you don't even get the chance to run into me," I warn, and then my voice cracks, but I don't stop. "And you will live with that."
She starts sobbing harder. "Please—please don't—"
"It's your choice. But whatever Dad chooses is also your choice."
The threat hangs between us like a blade.
My mother reaches for me again, slower this time, like she's afraid. "I love you. I love you so much."
I stare at her, and it hurts. It hurts because I believe she does. But love isn't enough right now.
I sit straighter. "I love you too, Mom. But Red is my life. Understand?"
She nods, shaking, wiping her cheeks with trembling fingers. "I'll tell him. I swear. I'll make him understand. I'll—"
"You can't make him anything. But you can draw a line. You can stop standing behind him."
She nods again, frantic. "I will."
I hold her gaze. "If he touches Red again," I say, voice like ice, "you lose me."
My mother's eyes flicker with pain. She whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you how you needed me."
"Then be there for me now. Make it clear to Dad," I say.
She hesitates like she wants to cling, to bargain, to keep me close while she figures out how to survive my father and his protective overbearingness.
I don't give her that and rise.
Finally, she stands, turns toward the door, and her shoulders shake.
Maksim appears like a shadow to escort her out, calm and controlled, a reminder that the rules of this space are not hers or mine.
As she leaves, she looks back one last time, eyes wrecked. "Blue…"
I don't move or soften.
Red's arms slide around me from behind, careful, steady.
She says to him, "I'm sorry for what Adrian did to you."
He nods.
Mom disappears through the doorway, and my chest aches with the clean pain of a decision made.
When the door closes, the penthouse feels quieter. It's the kind of quiet that comes after a storm when everything is changed, and you can't pretend it isn't.
Red presses his lips to my temple. "Are you okay?"
I swallow hard, leaning into him like he's the only solid thing on earth. "Yes."
And for the first time in my life, choosing him doesn't make me weak.
It makes me strong and fully alive.