Chapter 15
Sky
I take a moment to compose myself. I exhale slowly, shoulders squared, and step around the corner. The disposable coat rustles, and the scent of the sanitizer I just used on my hands fades with each step toward the hospital bed.
I pause at the foot of the bed. "Hello, Father," I whisper softly, though it feels somewhat foolish since not even a rocket launch in the misty park outside his window would rouse him. His chest rises and falls, and the machines beep. He lies on his back, his head gently resting on a pillow, his hands at his sides.
Perhaps it's unnecessary, but I smile at him. "It's me, Sky." June explained earlier that you never really know how much a coma patient perceives of their surroundings. He definitely can't see my smile, but maybe he can hear it, hidden beneath the worry that fills my voice.
"I hope you don't mind me stopping by. I thought I'd tell you a bit about the outside world. What has happened in the past two days, and..." I should add what I've managed to mess up in such a short time , but the words won't come out.
Even in his current state, I can't tell him how harshly our fashion show has been criticized in the trendiest fashion magazines. Filled with wild speculations about whether the chaos at Touch av lyx has erupted due to his accident.
At least they don't know about Stig's death. So far, it has not yet become public that he was also in the car during the accident.
I cautiously circle the bed, fetch a chair, and place it as close as possible to his side.
"I was in Milan to represent you at Fashion Week," I tell him. "Stig asked me to do it. He said it would be fine with you," I quickly add. I don't want him to think I'm trying to take over. "It was incredibly beautiful." Despite the fact that the employees didn't make it easy for me, it truly was.
I could finally breathe in the world of modeling again. Before going backstage in Milan, I didn't realize how much I had missed all of this.
"The hustle, the bustle, the tension," I say dreamily. "The flowing fabrics, delicate embellishments, creative combinations."
I immerse myself in the memory, feeling the cool silk of the blouse worn by model number fifteen and smelling the cottony scent of the suit worn by model number three. I run my fingers over the floral embroidery of the spring dress, feeling the delicate raised patterns, tracing the design.
A sigh escapes my lips. "It was like coming home after a long journey." Yes, that's exactly how it felt. Before the problems began.
I gaze at my father's lifeless face. How would he react to my words if he could?
You shouldn't be here , he might grumble, just as he did on my last visit.
"But I want to be here. For you. And for Touch av lyx ," I insist because this matter is too important to me. "What happened back then will never happen again, I swear it to you."
You had your chance , my father replies in my imagination. Now go, it's better for everyone, and you know it.
If he were conscious, I wouldn't dare to do this, but now I reach for his hand. "I know you're ashamed of me." In that, he's not alone; I am too. "Back then, I wasn't myself. Please, you have to believe me!"
Father's expression remains blank. And whose fault was that? his disappointed voice asks me inside my head.
Mine. We both know that; I don't need to say it. And there's no point in seeking excuses because they're all untrue. I let Levi charm me. Thanks to all the stars in my eyes, I couldn't see anything anymore. I couldn't think rationally because of all the emotions.
"That's in the past," I assure Father with a firm voice. "Today, I am so much stronger than I was back then."
It has to be that way.
No matter how much Kjell confused me. And no matter how significant his presence felt the night before yesterday. No matter how liberating it was to joke with him and no matter how strong the connection was between us. It neither made me lose sight of my goal nor did it make me break my promise.
Besides, it's over now. He has completed his mission, and if I ask Lil to take over the selection of the photos for the photo shoot, I won't see him again.
For a split second, my heart unnecessarily tightens.
No wonder Father's voice in my head is silent. He doesn't believe me, and that's okay. I wouldn't trust myself in his place either.
"When you wake up, you won't have to believe it any longer. You'll know it." Because I will provide evidence he can't dismiss.
We'll see . In my imagination, he sounds tired.
Uncertainly, I stroke his hand. There's another reason I came.
I take a few breaths to gather my courage. "Would you help me with some advice?" I whisper.
If he were awake, he would probably furrow his brow. Advice?
"It's like this: even though Stig made it clear before his death that I'm in charge of the business, Kahlo is sabotaging me. He hates me—still."
And you're surprised by that? Father's voice asks.
"No," I shake my head. I don't want him to think I'm unaware of how justified Kahlo's opinion of me is. "However, we need to work together to ensure that Touch av lyx continues to be as successful as it has been."
His closed eyelids move. He's listening!
"This isn't about emotions; it's about business," I quickly add because I know he sees it that way. There's no room for personal feelings in business. "Everything else at Touch av lyx is fine. Kahlo is the only problem. How do I get him to work with me instead of against me?"
I decide not to mention that our star designer has already turned the whole team against me. There's no need to worry my father unnecessarily.
Don't lie to me, Sky. I know there's more to it! he responds sternly.
Damn. How did he notice?
"Well... um... it's..." I shouldn't be stuttering.
In my imagination, he sighs at my unprofessional behavior and exhales slowly. It's hopeless with you.
He lies there motionless. I know he can't harm me, and I know his words exist only in my imagination, but I feel like I'm frozen in place.
"I'm sorry." A deep plea fills my tone. I want to get this right. For him. For Touch av lyx .
It's always the same with you, Skady Blohm . A deep furrow forms between his brows. The fact that you came here to beg me because you can't solve your problems on your own is shameful.
Tears well up in my eyes. Of all times, I should be showing him that I'm stronger than he thinks now.
"So you want me to solve my problems without your help?" I ask with a choked voice, letting go of his hand. "Then I will."
Even though I have no idea how to win Kahlo over, one thing is certain: I won't give up trying.
I stand, plant a kiss on my father's forehead, and turn to leave. "See you soon," I say, tiptoeing out of the room.
Only when I close the door behind me do I allow my legs to give way. I lean against the wall, and for a while, all I do is breathe.
Nurses and doctors glide past me like disembodied spirits. Words reverberate dully in my eardrums.
Suddenly, there is a hectic rush. "Code blue in room 313," a female voice calls out. "We need June." Someone sprints down the hallway.
When calm returns, I try to focus on what's most important right now: Kahlo. I think hard, searching for ways and options, weighing charming and forceful alternatives, and I come up with nothing.
"Think, Sky," I mutter, massaging my temples. "Put in a bit of effort."
It's hopeless with you , my father's voice rages in my head, and it feels like he's even shouting this sentence through the thick hospital walls.
Restlessly, I push away from the wall.
He's wrong. I can do this!
And to avoid further self-doubt from him, I immediately leave the intensive care unit. I pull my hat down to my brows and bury my chin in my oversized scarf.
Hidden like this, I walk down the stairs and cross through the hospital's entrance area without looking around. There might be a crowded café next to the entrance. Someone might be watering the wildly growing green plants. The phones at the reception desk may be ringing.
I pay no attention to any of it. My mind is blank, and now this emptiness is flooded with a familiar panic: that paralyzing fear of failure.
Impulsively, I swing open the exit door—and collide with an intoxicatingly scented dark blue wall.
"I'm also glad to see you," a voice I would recognize among thousands says.
"Kjell?" My body would love to sink into his arms and enjoy the embrace. But my head is stronger and commands my legs to step back.
He grins crookedly. "I didn't think you'd miss me so much. But it's good to know."
Despite the cold winter air pouring in from outside, I feel unnaturally warm. An entirely inappropriate tingling sensation spreads through me. "You're in the way." That should have sounded matter-of-fact, but it comes out just as confused as I feel right now. "What are you doing here?"
"Maybe I'm looking for you?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Is that a question?" Even as I speak the words, I know it was a mistake. I should have ignored his insinuation and the palpitations it stirs within me and just walked away.
"Oh, so that counts again, does it? Interesting. In that case, we're even." He crosses his arms in challenge. "After all, you first pronounced my name in question and then wanted to know what I'm doing here," he adds, probably due to my perplexed expression.
I shake my head and gesture toward the exit, which he still blocks. "Now that we've cleared up the important points, I would like to..."
"As you wish," he replies without making way for me. Is that disappointment in his eyes? "But I don't think it's a good idea."
Oh, it definitely is. "Whatever you're trying to do here, just stop," I respond, forcefully pushing aside the rebellious feeling surging in my chest.
For a moment, which definitely lasts too long, he silently regards me. Then he shakes his head with a gentle expression. "I'm not trying to do anything."
The resonating sound of his voice lingers within me. "Then let me through." My tone doesn't match my words, and the way I meet his gaze probably doesn't either. "Please."
My plea doesn't seem to impress him. "You look terrible," he says empathetically. "You shouldn't be alone right now."
Probably not. But I shouldn't be near him either.
"Come," he offers me his hand. "I promise not to ask any questions."
My gaze shifts back and forth between his fingers and his face.
"So you need evidence," he says, a compassionate smile briefly gracing his lips. Then he gently touches my shoulders and turns me around to face my reflection in the glass door.
Dark gray streaks cover my cheeks, and my eyes are puffy.
"You shouldn't be alone right now." Kjell repeats his earlier words. "No questions, I promise."
I look at myself and see a woman who is utterly alone with her worries because she has no one to confide in.
A woman who desperately needs distraction.
And also, a woman who knows exactly where to draw the boundaries and can spend a few hours with Kjell without changing anything.
"No questions?" I whisper.
He nods and even refrains from reminding me that I just asked one. At that moment, I realize he means it.
He wants to be there for me. Maybe because I was there for him in Milan when he shared his pain with me. Perhaps because I'm not insignificant to him.
"Okay." I tear myself away from my reflection. "What should we do?"