XXV
EDEN
The moment I heard Vivienne come in, I rushed out to see her. She barely gave me a glance and weakly climbed in her bed.
That was yesterday.
Vivienne stays curled in her bed, her back to the door. Her eyes are hollow when she opens them. She hasn’t eaten, barely moves and barely even acknowledges me when I try to talk to her. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Marita is the same.
She’s holed up in her own dorm room, refusing to leave too, too afraid of what might be waiting outside for her. The photo spreads faster than wildfire throughout the campus.
One moment their love was just theirs.
Now, it belongs to the entire school.
I’ve left once or twice—for classes, to get lunch for us both—but every time I’m away from her, panic bubbles in my throat. My mind keeps bringing me back to the love I shared with Imani and how brutally it was ripped away from us. Vivienne and I have our differences, but the pain that she’s experiencing isn’t necessary .
It’s excessively cruel
They think this is against the Lord’s will, that’s why they’re doing this.
And it doesn’t help that Vivienne’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing. In fact, it rang until it died. I sat on the edge of her bed, looking at the caller ID.
Every contact had the last name Carlisle.
Vivienne might not be part of the peerage like I am, but she still belongs to a family with some sort of reputation and ties to the church. They must have spent years crafting their perfect, devout image—and now their only daughter is at the center of a scandal, a crack in the pristine glass.
I don’t have to ask to know what they want to talk about. I don’t have to hear it to know that every missed call, every ignored text, every unread email sits like a weight on her chest. And I don’t have to ask to realize that she can’t take it anymore.
I’ve been sitting by her bed, doing my best to take care of her. Feeding her small meals, water when she’ll take it. I let Marita know that if she wants to speak to Vivienne she simply has to send me a text or a call.
So now, it’s just us.
Locked away.
Hiding from a world that’s already judged her guilty.
And something about that doesn’t sit right with me—Vivienne and Marita are in love. They shouldn’t be punished for it. Shouldn’t it be innocent until proven guilty?
“I really appreciate this,” she croaks. “But you don’t have to do this.”
Her voice is quiet and raw, like it’s been scraped against sandpaper.
“Vivienne,” I whisper, leaning close to her. “I know we might not see eye-to-eye on a few things.” To be honest, our only point of contention is Silas. “But you’re still my friend. The closest one I have here. There’s no way that I’m going to allow them to treat you like this.”
She’s still in bed, her body barely visible beneath the thick comforter.
What bothers me the most is that I’m no stranger to emotional turmoil—however she looks, I know it’s ten times worse on the inside.
And all for what? Loving the person who makes her happy?
My stomach churns. This can’t be right.
Our Lord is love , and none of this is loving.
“You’re missing so many classes, just to stay here with me.”
I frown. “These are extenuating circumstances, Viv.”
A dry chuckle escapes her lips.
It’s the closest thing I’ve gotten to a laugh from her since. “At least go to the ones after lunch.”
I hesitate. “Vivienne?—”
“Go.” She turns onto her back, finally looking at me. Her dark eyes are tired, her lips chapped. Her hair falls around her in knots. But there’s a strange determination in her eyes. “You don’t have to babysit me, Eden.”
“You’re not a baby. You’re my friend.”
That earns me a small, barely-there smile. “And I appreciate it. But I need a little space.”
I search her face for any sign that she’s lying. But she seems sincere—and I doubt she has the energy to lie to me. I understand needing space, though. I’d hate for anyone to witness my meltdowns—that would only make everything worse .
“Okay,” I say. “But I’ll only go if you take a shower and wash your hair.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Well, looks like I’ll be here with you for the rest of the day.”
We have a brief stare off. Then with a huff, she starts to make her way out of bed. She’s shakier than I expected. Vivienne begrudgingly lets me help her to the bathroom
I sit on the floor with my back to the shower while she gets herself clean.
“You’re afraid to look?” There’s a lilt in her voice that makes me feel hopeful. For a moment, she sounds like the old Vivienne. “I don’t have anything frightening going on.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m just giving you your privacy.” Then I add, because I know it will tickle her, “Plus, you’re pretty hot.”
This time, she laughs. A genuine one. “I’m a one-woman kind of girl, Eden. Hate to break it to you.”
I fake a sad huff. “That’s quite the shame. I think you’re hot enough that I wouldn’t mind sharing.”
The two of us laugh.
And for that snapshot in time, we’re just two girls laughing.
Sequestered from the storm brewing outside.
While Vivienne gets dressed from her shower, I start packing my bag for my afternoon classes. By the time she makes it out of the bathroom, she looks completely different. Her hair is still a bit damp, tendrils clinging to her temples. But color has returned to her cheeks, and the fresh set of pajamas look so much better on her than the dingy ones she had been wearing.
“I’m about to head out,” I say to her. “But take this. ”
I hold out my phone.
She looks down at it. “What’s this for?”
“So you can talk to Marita while I’m gone.”
Vivienne stares for a long moment before softly taking it from my hand.
Then, surprisingly, she pulls me into a hug. It’s warm, filled with all the emotions I know are ravaging her. I hug her back. When she pulls away, my shoulder is damp and her eyes are red.
“Thank you,” she mutters.
I nod, smiling. “I’ll always be here for you.”
The fresh air is almost too much when I finally step outside.
The sky is too bright, the voices too loud, the world too big after spending so much time holed up in our dorm room. As I walk to class, I try to focus on what I can do to help Marita.
I use my thoughts—as best as I can—to distract myself from the stares, the whispers and the pointed looks. Everyone knows I’m Vivienne’s roommate. I’m guilty by association in their eyes.
It’s almost comical. The way they pass judgement without knowing all the facts. This doesn’t feel like the loving thing to do in a situation like this. Worst of all, they think they’re in the right despite how inhumane they act. That thought most of all unsettles me. The school is buzzing with speculation, shock, and displeasure.
Nobody is thinking about how Vivienne and Marita feel. Who leaked the photo? Who had the audacity to leak something so carefully hidden? Something so special and fragile? Something that has nothing to do with them.
Silas, Alistair, Max and Cedric have been hunting for answers.
Even with the four of them together, I’m afraid of what the outcome will be if they actually find the person responsible. But I push Silas out of my mind. We both agreed that we would meet again as soon as this blows over.
And I haven’t responded to Lucian’s message either, because I don’t know what to say. Telling me to bring Silas along feels like a trap, and I know neither of them will have anything positive to say. They hate each other’s guts. It might even turn into a fight because it was my friendship with Lucian that started this whole thing—and he’s always the one I call after Silas hurts me.
It’s unfair to Silas.
It’s unfair to him.
It’s unfair to me.
It’s as though I’m being pulled in two different directions, and I can’t afford that right now. Not when my future hinges on getting engaged to stay part of my family.
I’m actually a bit relieved that I left my phone with Vivienne.
I have space to think, without the constant feeling that I need to be checking my phone—or that I need to respond to Lucian. That’s been on my mind more often than I would like to admit.
I should be paying attention in Literature—it is my favorite class after all. But, something in the pit of my stomach makes me feel uneasy. I can’t stop thinking about Vivienne.
Lucian’s seat is empty beside me. Where is he? He never skips class. Maybe he’s avoiding me since I never took him up on his offer to meet and talk.
Or maybe this is about Vivienne—they were extremely close. He’s probably on his own hunt as well. By some miracle, they’ve been able to keep the photo out of the hands of the Headmaster.
But time is running out.
It’s only a matter of time before it gets to him.
Unless they find the person who leaked it and get them to fess up that it’s a doctored photo. By the time my last class ends, I don’t walk back to the dormitory.
I run.
I need to see Vivienne.
This is the longest we’ve been apart since the whole thing started.
I need to make sure she’s okay.
But just as I turn the corner to sprint to the front doors, I notice a crowd of students gathered on the other side of the building. Their voices are a low murmur of unease, uncertainty.
My skin prickles.
Something is wrong.
But I don’t stop, I don’t care.
Maybe somebody else has fallen victim to the Communion Curse, or whatever. Maybe I’m desensitized but I don’t care to see another bloody naked girl right now.
I need to get back to Vivienne.
I climb the steps to our third floor room two at a time .
I’m out of breath by the time I get there.
“Vivienne?” I call out, scrambling for my keys to open the door. “Vivienne?”
No response.
I push my key in the door and it swings open.
My heart starts to thrum in my chest. I told Vivienne not to leave the door open.
Why would she? Maybe she was expecting a visitor—Marita perhaps.
I enter the room slowly. “Viv, why would you leave the door open?”
But she’s not in her bed.
She’s not in the room.
I had left the window closed, but it’s open now.
The curtains billow in the breeze, and the air carries the murmur of the crowd I saw earlier into the room. My feet take me toward the window.
With shaking hands, I hold on to the windowsill.
I peer out the window.
And there, encircled by the crowd, lays a body in a pool of blood.
I don’t need to get any closer to know who it is—I recognize the beautiful dark hair, the pajamas, the statuesque body, even posed so awkwardly .
Vivienne jumped.
How’s that for a cliffhanger?