Julian’s Curse

Not Just an Accident

T he days without Julian were starting to blur together, like something out of a Christmas movie where Bill Murray keeps reliving the same day over and over. I’d get up, make a strong coffee or two, and head to the office—where part of my day was spent wondering if my friendship with Valentina had come to an end. I hadn’t heard from Bradley or her, but maybe that was for the best. It gave me the time and space I needed to reflect on what was going on in my most important relationship.

The one thing that broke the monotony of it all was Julian’s notes—each one heartfelt, unique, and full of care, reassuring me that he truly intended to recover. I clung to that hope despite having spent countless hours online learning about addiction, confronting the reality that healing was rarely a straight line. I dove into the works of Gabor Maté, even reading In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction , in an attempt to understand why Julian had made the choices he did in the first place. Maté viewed addiction as a coping mechanism for unresolved psychological wounds, particularly those rooted in early childhood trauma or emotional neglect. This perspective seemed to explain so much about Julian’s struggles, and it fit what he’d told me about growing up in the foster care system. But I couldn’t help but wonder—could he overcome this past with my help?

I had also put together a full business plan for Amanda’s publishing company, then set about hiring the right people to bring it to life. Most nights, I was immersed in reviewing manuscripts from literary agents, hoping to find the one that would truly resonate with an audience.

It didn’t surprise me that, after all that, I ended up getting sick. It felt like I was coming down with the flu—utterly drained, at the worst possible time. What was even stranger was that I sometimes felt short of breath. I figured it had to be psychological—maybe anxiety, because I was too young to be dealing with any real medical issues. It felt like my diaphragm was expanding, this constant heavy pressure on my chest. The weird part was, it only happened at certain times, like when I was about to fall asleep. Was I starting to have panic attacks on top of everything else? It seemed so irrational, so I kept putting off doing anything about it.

But it got worse because I’d lost my appetite—though, given all that had happened, it wasn’t surprising. I made myself a promise: if I started feeling completely drained, I would take a couple of days off, no matter what. But it was a lot harder to stick to that promise when I had so many goals pulling me in different directions.

That same week, I started my MBA classes and channeled whatever energy I had left into school. Most assignments were online—reading, homework, and proctored quizzes. The program was designed for working professionals, so there were no live classes, just recorded lectures from some professors. I found international economics interesting, but finance was a struggle. Without Julian to help, I had to reread the textbook multiple times to understand the concepts. Still, it served as a distraction from my illness and a reason to avoid overexerting myself. After late nights finishing assignments, I showed up to the office exhausted, and Kali noticed right away.

“Lucie, are you alright? You look a bit…” She blinked. “Green.” She cleared her throat, realizing the full truth was perhaps a little harsh.

That was not what I wanted to hear, but she was right that the whole morning I hadn’t been feeling well. I definitely now had nausea on top of everything. “I think maybe it’s a bug.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she gave me a sympathetic glance. “If you need to take off, I am happy to cover for you.”

“You know Kali, since it’s been like this for a week, I don’t think it’s anything contagious. I’ve just been overworking myself because Julian is on a lengthy work trip.” I had to give her the white lie version of things.

“Yeah, that’s understandable. Amanda has loaded your plate with quite a few things. Do you know she’s gone again?”

I shook my head. “Lately it feels like she’s not even wanting to run the business anymore, but I actually think it’s the opposite. She’s in New York trying to negotiate the IPO.” I slid into my seat and sighed.

“Can I bring you a tea?” Kali offered, not letting go of her concerned look.

The wave of nausea was getting worse. I nodded with thanks, though it was becoming harder to stay focused on the conversation.

“Be right back with some ginger tea,” she selected the flavor as if the nausea was written all over my face. As soon as she left, I headed straight for the bathroom, grateful it was empty. I stood in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink, cursing whatever illness had a grip on me. The fatigue felt suffocating, and now my stomach was starting to feel bloated too. As I instinctively placed my hand over it, a sudden thought hit me. I hadn’t gotten my period yet. And this was around the time when I should. I hardly stressed about it because we weren’t trying. I’d been taking my birth control pills consistently, and they were 99% effective.

“Lucie?” The door opened as Kali entered. “Sorry, I got a little worried about you. Just wanted to check you’re okay. Also, Amanda’s just messaged me that she wants to talk to you on a video call and to get it ready for 10 AM, is that okay?”

No, I wasn’t, it felt like I’d throw up any minute.

“You know Kali, I think I need to go home.” I gripped the sink. “I feel really rough right now.”

“I’ll tell her you came down with something. I am sure whatever she has to say isn’t as important as your health and well-being.” She seemed apologetic. “I’ll leave you here if you need privacy, but if you need my company, just let me know.”

I knew she had kids, so she seemed like the perfect person to ask. But honestly, there wasn’t much to do except take the test. I figured it would just be a formality, a way to confirm it was negative, so I decided to stop by the pharmacy on my way home.

“I am okay Kali, I’ll see you hopefully tomorrow!”

It was almost comforting to sink into the sheets, finally acknowledging that I couldn’t push myself any further. Being this unwell made everything else fade—deadlines, goals, expectations—and all I could focus on was simply being. After an hour of mindlessly watching whatever was on TV, I finally decided it was time to take the plunge and take the dreaded test.

But just when I was about to head for the bathroom, I heard a ring on our door. Nobody ever came to visit us directly, except Rose and Oliver, so I expected a stranger. Feeling a little more rested, I hurried to check the camera footage.

“Sophie!” I exclaimed, rushing to open the door, surprised to find her standing there. She must’ve decided to drop by unannounced. “I stopped by the office to grab lunch with some friends, and then I heard you weren’t feeling well.” She handed me a basket brimming with treats.

“Thanks, love,” I suddenly felt cheerful, accepting all of it with a grateful smile. Inside, there were flowers, lotions, bath bombs, chocolate—and most importantly—a journal that I hadn’t expected: a wedding planner.

“I’d invite you to come in, but I don’t want you to catch whatever I may have,” I warned her. Even though maybe it wasn’t contagious…

She waved her hand. “The more germs I am exposed to, the better immune system I have. Have you ever heard of The Longitude Vitamins ? She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” I croaked.

“You should try them, they’ll boost your immunity. I’ve included them in your package.”

I was going to ask her how she’d put everything together so fast, but that was just Sophie. She enjoyed doing nice things for others, so it was no wonder she amassed all this in record time.

“I certainly will. Come on in then,” I opened the door wide for her. While she took her shoes off, I briskly slid into our lower level bedroom, to hide the pregnancy test underneath my pillow. I hoped to make it look like I was making the bed.

“Dad said Julian’s away for quite some time, you didn’t tell me he was going anywhere for this long.” She pondered.

“Oh yeah. It was last minute. You know he always works. Thankfully I am drowning in work too.”

Her eyes bore into me, unyielding. Would she perhaps attribute it to my business? After all, we weren’t spending as much time together anymore.

“Well, once you’re feeling better, do you want to start looking for wedding dresses?” she suggested. But her gaze on me remained intense, and I had a feeling she knew something wasn’t quite right—not just with us, but with me.

I hadn’t thought about our upcoming wedding much. There was a lot of work we needed to before that on our relationship. “Sure, even though I can’t promise I’ll find time right away.” I managed her expectations cautiously.

She fixed me with a look that felt like it was burning right through me. “Lucie, I’ve known you for a year now. And I know something is not okay. Spill the beans, please. What’s wrong?” She pouted her thick lips. She pouted her full lips, this time choosing a brownish hue—clearly a sign she’d gotten a bit more conservative with her color choices since joining real estate.

“Valentina and I aren’t speaking anymore,” I murmured, choosing my smallest issue to mask the deeper ones. “We had a falling out over Bradley.”

She rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Because of tabloid gossip?”

“I think she thinks there’s more, and I wish I could say no. But Val knows we’d almost dated. And it’s created this odd dynamic between all of us.”

“Yeah, you are right. He’s already chosen you. What does Julian think about all this?”

“He was pissed to read the articles. But let’s just say he’s done plenty wrong to give me a break about it.”

“Fair,” she sighed. “He should. But how do you feel about all of it?” She stressed the “you” in a way that reminded me she was always in my corner.

“You know, Sophie, I don’t think I ever would’ve chosen Bradley. You and I both know there’s no comparing him to Julian. The love I feel for Julian... it’s so much. It’s beautiful, but sometimes, it’s almost too much to bear.”

She made a sad puppy face. “Yeah, you two are destined to be together. We already know that.” She winced.

I couldn’t bring myself to mention the ghost in our closet, not now. “How are you and Mark? Almost moved in?” I steered the conversation away from sore topics.

“We’re doing great, Lucie. For the first time in my life, I feel like things are going remarkably well in my love life. No drama at all. Well, except for Jess.” She rolled her eyes.

“Jess? Has she been in touch recently?” I puckered my brows threateningly.

Sophie nodded. “She’s done something strange. She wrote Mark a letter.”

“What?” I was stunned that she would still try to reach out to him after everything that’s happened. “What could she possibly have to say at this point?” A fierce protectiveness for my friend surged within me.

“To summarize, she professed her love for him once again and then asked him to forgive her and take her back—like I didn’t exist.”

“At this point, she’s delusional,” I remarked, my frustration boiling over.

“Mark is going to put a restraining order on her. We don’t want to give her any more attention. Maybe if she gets a court order, she’ll get the message.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” I was still taken aback by the whole situation. “I never had the impression that she was so manipulative. But maybe she has some serious mental health issues,” I pondered. “Mark should be careful.”

“She got what she deserved,” Sophie said. “I think she’s going to have a tough time finding a job after getting fired from Amanda.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it.” Teamwork was definitely not Jess’s strength.

“Enough about her, though,” Sophie switched subjects. “Thanks for liking my post about the listing, I can’t believe I got it!”

“Babe, I am so proud of you for getting all the stunning listings you advertise on your business page.” I liked that our conversation was going in a cheerful direction again.

She beamed at that. “Let me just say, my sphere of influence has come through. The other day, my old kindergarten friend hired me as his agent to buy a house—haven’t even spoken to him in decades!”

I laughed. “People remember you, Sophie, because you’re kind to them.”

She grinned, shaking her head. “Well, not exactly…This client of mine used to have a huge crush on me and chased me around school with a compass.”

I couldn’t help but smile—only Sophie could take a story like that and still manage to lift my spirits.

But enough about my reminiscing,” she shifted her tone. “What’s really going on, Lu? Dad says Julian’s been out of town for two weeks now.” Her gaze narrowed, and I couldn’t help but notice how much she’d changed. Sophie, with her bright blonde hair that always framed her face so perfectly, had become more than just the girl I’d known for years. Her features were still soft, her round cheeks giving her a warmth that made her instantly approachable, but there was a new sharpness in her eyes now—something different. A quiet confidence, almost like she’d stepped into herself fully, and it had nothing to do with the way she looked. Mark had definitely had an effect on her. I could see it in the way she carried herself—stronger, a little more grounded, even if she still had that spark of mischief in her smile. Real estate had done its part too, molding her into someone who could handle anything that came her way.

I inhaled sharply, and the sensation only reminded me how oddly different my breath felt—shallow like I was still struggling to fill my lungs. Could anxiety really do such a thing? I convinced myself then that the reason why my period was late was because of stress.

“Sophie, I am not sure if I am ready to talk about it…” She’d already managed to melt my iceberg resolution to keep my secret wraps, though.

“My opinion is that you need to talk about it,” her voice remained steady and sure. “And I’m guessing the rift between you and Valentina came at the worst possible time. When you need a friend.” She analyzed the situation with precision.

I swallowed, then glanced at the pillow on my bed. “I can’t afford to get you upset, love.” She instantly knew what I was referring to.

Last year, I learned that she had an inherited heart condition called Long QT Syndrome, where her heart’s electrical system took longer to reset. This genetic condition was only diagnosed in adulthood, and although it could be managed with treatment, she still faced a constant risk to her life. Any intense emotion could trigger a seizure, cause her to faint, or even lead to cardiac arrest. It was a heavy burden to live like that, and would not contribute to any risks of hers.

She furrowed her brows. “Lucie, I’d rather live for 25 years and experience life like a normal person, than spend my whole life being constantly sheltered. Yes, there is a 1% chance I could die any moment, but that’s a 99% chance I won’t.”

I admired her bravery.

“Are you sure?” I also didn’t want to make her upset by not telling her the truth when she was asking for it.

“Yeah, I’ve never been surer.”

“Check underneath then.” I pointed at my pillow.

She sent a curious glance my way as if weighing my words, but then, without hesitation, she followed my instruction.

We were both now starting at the pink box of First Response.

“I don’t think it’s likely, but I have to take this today.” I murmured.

I was expecting her to put her palm over her mouth or at least give some dramatic reaction, the kind of over-the-top response I’d seen her give before. But instead, she just tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful, almost too calm for the gravity of what I’d just said.

“Julian’s in rehab, Sophie,” I continued. “I found out a few weeks ago that last year when we were apart, he started using coke to cope with his problems. He hasn’t been able to stop since.”

Her face softened, and without another word, she wrapped her arms around me. “I am sorry, Lucie. Now, this explains some of the erratic behavior that Dad described.”

I could tell she was searching for the right words, trying to find something that would smooth over the weight of what I’d just said. But this wasn’t just a small rift between lovers—it went deeper. Her dad worked for my billionaire boyfriend, and that detail only made everything more complicated. I’d essentially just told her that her father’s boss was an addict, and both knew the potential implications. I could almost see her mind racing, trying to reconcile everything, to make sense of the mess I had just thrown into her lap.

“Do you think you’re pregnant? Were you guys trying?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve been taking my birth control pills regularly.”

“It could just be because you’re going through a lot. But did you skip any? Forget to take them?” She pressed. “It’s unlikely you would get pregnant if you are careful with those.”

I’d been pretty diligent about taking my pills, but then I remembered something—a moment that made my stomach drop. Julian and I had gotten food poisoning from eating at a street vendor. “I think it’s possible I threw them up once,” I said, my voice trailing off. “We went to that taco stand, and I got so sick after… I barely kept anything down for two days.” I hadn’t made the connection at the time.

“Do you know if this was the first week of the pack?”

I assumed she knew something about their efficacy that I didn’t. “Yeah, possibly, Sophie, why?”

“Shoot,” she exclaimed. “And I assume you have all the symptoms, like nausea, and fatigue?”

“Yeah,” I omitted the part where I’d been feeling short of breath. I really didn’t want to refer to the heart in front of her. But that’s how it felt. Like my heart was suddenly working harder to keep me oxygenated. Rationally, I knew I wasn’t short of breath, though.

She changed the subject. “My dad’s been suspecting something,” she remarked. “Julian’s been in really erratic moods during meetings, and he even blew up at another investor.”

“I know it’s a conflict of interest, Sophie. It’s your dad. If you need to tell him, I understand.” I couldn’t ask her to keep it confidential.

“But he’s in rehab, right? That’s a good sign.” She assessed.

“I just know better than to believe recovery is that straightforward,” I keenly shared my thoughts.

“I don’t think it’s my place to tell Dad,” she assured me. “He’s, however, thinking of retiring and has announced this to Julian a few weeks ago. So, I know Julian is looking for a replacement too.”

This came as a surprise, but Mr. Dickens had definitely made enough money to be able to do so. He was also of retirement age.

“When are you going to take the test, Lucie?” She shifted back to the topic of my likely pregnancy.

“In fact, I was about to,” I sulked.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” She squeezed my hand. No matter how hard all this was, it felt so great to have her as a friend.

“No, Sophie, I think I need to process this alone. Besides, I am sure you have better things to do than wait for me to pee on a strip.” I tried to turn my response into a lame joke.

She nodded in understanding and stood up to leave. “Look, Lucie, I’ll give you some space now, but if you need me, I’m always here. And if you want a place to stay—just to get away from Julian for a while once he comes back—Mark and I have plenty of room.” She added with a soft smile before heading out. “Please call if you need me anytime.”

I understood the message she’d left me — I needed to stay vigilant about my boundaries. But if I was to be honest, I didn’t have the best track record of that, especially when it came to Julian.