Chapter 28
Kjell
Oh God, what have I done?
Sky continues to scrutinize me unchanged. "Are you sure? You look like you've eaten spoiled fish."
I nod and suppress the rising nausea within me.
"Okay, I'll start packing. Will you clean up the kitchen?" she asks, beaming.
Overwhelmed, I turn away and walk into the kitchen while Sky dances to the stairs leading up to the first floor. I wait for the dragging sound of her bedroom door before sinking against the kitchen counter.
Fuck.
If they catch me, it's all over , Sky just said with so much panic in her voice.
And it's only just dawning on me, at this moment, what I've been doing in the past few weeks.
I've been lying to this woman—the most wonderful person I've ever met. And at the same time, I kept telling myself not to trust her.
That was utterly stupid.
I was utterly stupid.
Frantically, I place the coffee cup in the sink and turn on the faucet. I scrub the cup as if trying to remove burnt residue, but no matter how hard I try, the ingrained stain inside me won't go away.
I'm a hypocrite. A liar.
A fraud.
With a jerky motion, I slam the cup into the sink, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Leaning against the countertop, I gaze at the fragments, feeling as if I'm looking at my own life.
Thoughts race through my mind so fast that it feels like it could explode at any moment.
I need to confess to Sky who and what I am. I will tell her that I never intended to fall in love with her. But she made me forget why I came here in the first place with her incredible personality.
And, of course, that I would never publish a single detail about her. Her secret is safe with me. I will also make it clear to Jakob what I've been avoiding so far: the story is dead.
"Are you ready?"
I look up and see Sky in the hallway with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. The packed overnight bags are next to her.
"Yeah. Your stuff is in there too," she says, grinning. "I hope that's okay?"
"Listen..." In front of me is a pile of shards in the sink, and by the door stands a hopeful-looking Sky. Panic rises within me, but I must do it right now, before everything gets even worse than it already is. "I need to tell you something..."
"Can we talk on the way?" she asks nonchalantly, spinning around and beginning to close the shutters. "We have five hours until we reach Stockholm, anyway."
No , I think. "Sure," I say, like a lousy coward, and immediately despise myself for it.
The room grows darker. I collect the shards, wipe the countertop with a pounding heart, and finally pack the dirty dish towels.
A few minutes later, Sky pulls the car out of the property. "Once again, about the press," she says, chewing on her lower lip.
Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and my breath becomes shallow. "Yes, well, I wanted to talk to you about that too," I begin because there won't be a better moment.
How will she react? Will she understand my dilemma?
She accelerates on the island's main road. "They must not find out that I'm back. I could wear a wig. Since it’s winter, it won't be noticeable if I hide the lower half of my face in a thick scarf and pull the hat down to my eyebrows."
She talks like a waterfall, and I can't get a word in edgewise. She passionately describes tinted windows, back entrances, and how Lil could run all the errands so she wouldn't have to leave the house at all.
With each of her ideas, more and more resistance builds within me.
She wants to lock herself up completely. No freedom. No life! "And so, this is how it will be forever?" I ask skeptically.
"They must not catch me," she replies, almost paranoid.
There it is again, her all-encompassing fear of showing herself. It seems endless, yet it can't hold a candle to the fear mounting in me right now. Because at this moment, I know the answer I was searching for earlier. I know how she will react to my truth.
She will hate me. Banish me from her life. And no one can understand that better than I can. But that's not all.
Furthermore, she will punish herself because she’ll believe that she trusted the wrong man. She will think that what happened to her with Levi has happened again.
It will shake her to her core.
It will break her and plunge her into a deep pit, from which she won't be able to fulfill her big dream.
And she will hide from the world forever.
Staring firmly at the road, she clenches her teeth. "There's just no other way. I have to hide."
Something inside me shatters. Perhaps it's my heart. A pain I've never felt before overwhelms me.
We pass the toll booth and drive onto the bridge that connects ?land to the mainland while I futilely try to understand what is happening to me.
"If he..." She swallows hard. "If he wakes up, and I manage to achieve something for Touch av lyx , then..."
What then? Will he allow her to show herself? Is that what she hopes for? That the man who put so much pressure on her as a teenager, the man who played a role in her involvement with Levi, will allow her to breathe freely again?
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," I say emphatically.
She grips the steering wheel tighter. "Oh, I absolutely do," she says through gritted teeth.
The way she mimics her father's ghostly puppet is wrong. After all, she is so much more than that. Yes, she made a mistake. But it should no more dictate her life than her parents should.
That's what I'd like to tell her, but not a word escapes my lips. By what right could I, of all people, tell her something about right and wrong? I, who lied to her for weeks.
She exhales heavily. We leave the bridge, and I glance one last time at the vastness of the Baltic Sea.
"It's complicated. Right now, other things have to take precedence. Only once I've proven myself can I think about it," she says, steering the car onto the E22 heading north.
Bare trees rise beside us, and the sun peeks through the branches, bathing Sky's face in an almost magical light.
Unconsciously, I reach out my hand toward her. She's amazing, just the way she is. Who will make her see that if I don't? Who will be there for her when she needs support? Who will dance with her when she's on the verge of losing control?
If I tell her now that I'm a journalist and she pushes me away, she might remain trapped in her thought construct forever. She won't have a life. The idea is unbearable.
"What if you end the charade and give an interview?" I ask because that's exactly what she should do. I don't care which journalist sits across from her. This is not about me. It's about Sky living the life she deserves—one of freedom and happiness.
She responds with a vehement shake of her head, and her jaw tightens. "Absolutely not."
Her entire body tenses as if she were a rabbit frozen in front of a snake that doesn't even exist.
Her father still has that much power over her.
"Think about it. You would have control over every word that gets printed." Unlike what the tabloids will come up with if she remains silent.
With lips pressed together, she blinks rapidly. "If I talk to the press, my father will never forgive me. So I won't do it. And that's all there is to it," she replies firmly.
I look at her intently, noticing the trembling hair tips, the fluttering eyelids, the reddened lower lip she keeps biting.
It's clear that the thought of disappointing her father overshadows everything, and no one can change that. She must realize on her own that she will only be free if she takes control of her own life.
"I just want a chance to be part of the family again," she whispers in the silence between us.
I'd like to ask her which family she means, because in reality, she doesn't have one anymore. Her mother is gone. Whether her father wakes up again is in the hands of fate. Whether he fully recovers as well.
"I understand," I say gently even though my throat tightens.
I look out the window, into the sky, where millions of stars seem to be burning brightly in the sunlight. There's only one she has longed for her entire life even though she already carries all of them within herself.
No, both of us can do it—when she finally stops hiding. That's what becomes clear to me now, amid my emotional turmoil. Her only real chance is to face reality, and I can't leave her alone in that process.
It will hurt more than she imagines right now, but afterward, she'll see the world through different eyes.
Only when she does that—and not a moment sooner—will she be able to handle my truth.
I slide my hand down her arm and entwine my fingers with hers. "Let me help you," I say because that's what I want more than anything. I'll be there for her, accompany her on her journey, and make sure she goes through with it.
No matter how difficult it gets. I have to keep my secret a little longer. For her.
Some of her stiffness fades away, and a hint of a smile touches her lips. "Okay," she says, so relieved that my heart constricts painfully.
We can do this together. I'll be gentle and help her reveal her truth piece by piece. Then she won't be afraid of me anymore. And she'll believe that I would never harm her.
Hopefully.
Losing her would be the worst thing that could happen.