7. The Spiral
The fluorescent lightsof Spectrum Design Studio hum a familiar, almost hypnotic rhythm like a white noise machine, but it does little to drown out the static in my head.
A few weeks have passed since I walked away from Alexander, a few weeks of pretending everything is okay, of hiding behind the bright, vibrant world of color and design. But the facade is cracking.
The world has become a distorted picture, colors bleeding into each other, sounds morphing into a blurry mess. I try to focus on the sleek lines of the new campaign, but my mind is a tangled mess of wires, half-finished sketches that refuse to compile.
The breakup was brutal, a supernova that ripped a gaping hole in my life. My evenings are spent curled up on the couch, a prisoner in my own apartment, watching the city lights flicker outside, feeling like I’m watching a film that’s already ended but can’t seem to stop playing. My heart’s a broken record, skipping between anger, hurt, and betrayal.
The grief for my parents is renewed with the discovery, and the pain of a raw, throbbing wound that never seems to heal is near constant. But it’s the truth about Alexander that is tearing me apart - the man I love, the man who shattered my world, the man who was supposed to be my safe harbor. It’s like a poisoned arrow lodged in my chest, twisting deeper with every breath.
I push it all away, focusing on the rhythm of the design world and pretending normalcy still exists. But it’s like a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the code that can’t be ignored.
“Ava,” Cole’s voice breaks through my thoughts as he gestures to me in the conference room.
“I’m coming. Let me just get the drawings,” I say, flattening my button-up shirt as I stand up from my chair.
It’s strange how I find myself spending more and more time with Cole. He’s become a constant presence in the fluorescent-lit world of Spectrum Designs. It’s —different from the chaos I went through just a few weeks ago, but the rhythm of the design world, the shared passion for creating, seems to soothe the raw edges of my grief. He doesn’t talk much except about work-related things, which means I can bear his presence.
The memory of his assault is still there, a chilling reminder in the back of my mind, but time has a way of dulling sharp edges. The truth about Alexander has given me a new perspective and a new understanding of the world’s complexities. Plus, there’s something about Cole, an uncanny ability to read a room and understand the unspoken needs of a design, that makes working with him oddly comforting when we’re out meeting clients.
“Okay, so what do we think about this new campaign? Too much?” Cole says, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on the sleek, modern watch design on the screen. The imagery is supposed to be cutting edge, a mix of metallics and minimalist design that’s supposed to scream luxury, but it just feels—flat.
I step closer, leaning over his shoulder, a subtle shift in my posture that he seems to notice. “It’s good, Cole,” I say, “but maybe a little too polished. We need to inject some grit and some edge. This watch is supposed to be for the rebels, the mavericks, the people who don’t follow the rules.”
He nods, his expression thoughtful as he straightens his tie. “Yeah, you’re right. I tend to get images a little too—polished and too clean. Maybe we can add some of that—” he trails off, his voice low. His hand hovers over the screen, a single finger tracing the outline of the watch. He has a slight tremor in his hand as if he’s struggling to capture a fleeting thought.
A shadow falls across the room, interrupting our conversation. I glance up to see Isaac standing in the doorway, his youthful face framed by a halo of golden hair. The usual bright glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by a weariness that seems to weigh him down. A touch of blond stubble clings to his jaw, giving him a rugged look I haven’t seen before.
“Issac? What’s going on?” My pulse rises involuntarily.
“Ava, I need to talk to you.” His voice is low, almost apologetic not like his usual self. He steps into the room, his gaze meeting mine, a hint of a plea in his kind, dark eyes.
“It’s about Alexander?” I sigh, my tone clipped, the bitterness of the breakup still clinging to me.
“Yes,” he says, his gaze dropping momentarily before he meets my eyes. “He’s— not doing well.” His words are a confession, a silent admission of a truth we both know too well.
“I’m aware,” I say, my tone sharp, a defensive wall around my emotions. “We’re not together anymore, Isaac. It’s not my problem.” The words are harsh, but they feel necessary, a way to protect myself from the hurt.
“I know,” he murmurs. “But he needs you. Even as a friend.”
I scoff, the bitterness of the breakup still fresh. “I don’t think so. It’s time for him to take responsibility for his actions.”
“I understand,” he says, his voice low, but there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, a flicker of—something. It’s a look that makes me pause as if he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words.
“He’s going through a lot. And he’s trying to change.”
Isaac stands there, his eyes filled with sadness. He knows Alexander better than anyone and has witnessed his rise and fall. He knows his past. He grew up a boy in the shadow, taught by Mendel to protect and secure Alexander Bourne, even if it meant paying with his life.
Isaac wouldn’t come if it wasn’t serious, Ava.
A memory surfaces, a sharp, unwelcome intrusion. Alexander killed my parents. Shivering, my sympathy recedes, replaced by anger. I clench my fist, the memory a jagged shard in my heart. It’s his mess, his burden, and he’s the one who has to carry it. Still, I can’t help but think of Alexander, his face the picture of a lost boy. A wave of confusing emotions hit me, leaving me breathless. My hand twitches towards my phone, a sudden urge to call him.
Fuck.
I glance at Cole, who’s watching Isaac with cold eyes.
“Okay,” I say, finally relenting. “I’ll talk to him.”
Isaac nods, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Thanks, Ava. He’s at the docks. I’ll take you.”
Cole’s gaze flickers from me to Isaac and then back to me. He doesn’t say anything, but I see the question in his eyes, and I know he’s trying to read my expression, trying to understand what’s going on.
“I’ll come with you,” Cole says, his voice firm. “We can work on the campaign later.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I say, hesitating. I don’t want to drag Cole into this. It’s too dangerous, too close to home, too close to my heart.
“I want to be there, Ava, for your safety,” he says. He steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, and I can see the concern, the loyalty, and the unwavering trust in his gaze. It’s a look that I rarely see in anyone, especially not in men. “I will stay back. I promise. I’m trying to make amends, Ava. Please, believe me, I am.”
Has he really changed? Or is this an attempt to sway me?
I hesitate for a moment, but then, I nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”
At least Isaac is there, and he’s armed.
The driveto the docks is a blur of activity and noise. I look out the window, watching the city lights flicker past, their reflection dancing on the wet asphalt. The air is thick with the scent of salt and diesel fuel—a world I know well, his world.
The car slows to a stop. I get out, followed by Cole, who emerges from the backseat. Isaac steps out from the driver”s side, his gaze sweeping over the docks. We find Alexander at the edge of the docks, his back to us, his silhouette framed against the light. He seems smaller and more vulnerable than I remember. As he turns around, I notice the dark circles under his eyes, and his usually sharp features seem more etched with worry.
He doesn’t step closer until I’m right beside him, and when he finally does, I see a flicker of something else in his eyes— a fleeting glimpse of paranoia that vanishes just as quickly as it appears.
“Ava,” he says, his voice low.
I place a hand on his shoulder, my touch light but firm. He smells of rain and something else, a faint, metallic scent that I can’t place. Is it blood?
I search for his eyes, but they”re lost in a fog of worry, like a mirror reflecting a world I can”t see. He sees me but doesn”t really see me.
Has he been taking drugs?
The moment he notices Cole, Alexander’s body tenses like a coiled spring. His jaw clenches, a barely perceptible twitch playing at the corner of his mouth. “What the fuck is he doing here?” he growls, like a storm brewing beneath a deceptively calm sky.
He takes a step forward, his stance aggressive, his gaze locking with Cole’s. Cole raises his hands, a gesture of appeasement, “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“Then scram,” Alexander snarls. “Get out of here.”
Cole doesn’t move. His gaze flickers between me and Alexander, a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement? Or is it worry? I can’t tell. His jaw tightens. Isaac stands nearby, silent, as the air crackles with electricity. Why doesn’t he interfere? Does he want a confrontation? Damn it, Isaac.
Instead of waiting for a full-blown explosion, I step in, my hand resting lightly on Alexander’s shoulder.
“You need to get help, Alexander,” I say, my voice calm, but my heart is pounding. “You’re not yourself. You need to talk to someone, to find a way to—”
“I don’t need your help, Ava,” he snaps. His eyes, usually a dazzling blue, are now dark and intense.
“You do,” I say, my voice firm. “I can help you to face this, to—”
But my words are cut short. He turns, his face contorted with a rage I’ve never seen before. He lunges forward, a wild animal unleashed, his fist connecting with Cole’s jaw with a sickening thud.
Cole stumbles backward, his hand flying to his face, a crimson stain blossoming on his cheek.
“The fuck –” Cole stammers.
I gasp, my body frozen in shock. I’ve seen Alexander’s rage before, but this is different. This is raw, unfiltered, a violent explosion that came out of nowhere.
“What the hell, Alexander?” I scream.
He turns toward me, his face contorted with anger. “You shouldn’t have brought him here,” he sneers. “He hurt you, Ava. He laid his fuckin’ dirty hands on you. I don’t trust him.”
He is right. It was stupid to bring Cole. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Alexander turns away, his shoulders slumped, his back to me as if I were nothing but a stranger.
My hand instinctively reaches out, tracing the cut’s jagged line on his knuckles. The blood, already drying, is a dark stain against his skin. He doesn’t flinch, his expression unreadable, but there’s a tension in his jaw, a tightness that suggests a deeper wound beneath the surface.
I turn to Cole, who”s rubbing his jaw and grimacing. Isaac has helped him to his feet. ”Are you okay?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“I’m fine,” he says.
I look over at Alexander. I can see the dark circles under his eyes and know he’s losing himself. He needs help, but he’s pushing everyone away.
His once glacial blue eyes, the eyes I fell in love with, are now haunted, filled with a desperation that breaks my heart. He’s lost, spiraling down a dark vortex, and I feel helpless, unable to pull him back from the abyss.
“Alexander,” I call.
“Spare your pity, Ava, I’m fine,” he says and scurries off towards his office at the docks. He doesn’t look back. His words are a slap, but it’s the way he walks away without a glance that truly stings. I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. I turn to leave the docks, the cold air biting at my skin.
Whatever,I tell myself, knowing it’s a big fat lie.
The restof the night is a blur of activity. Isaac helps Cole into his apartment. The sight of a plaster the size of a dinner plate on Cole’s face, branding him with tonight’s violence, makes me flinch. I notice how Isaac handles the situation with practiced ease. He’s truly Mendel’s protégé. Even in the chaos, he seems to be in control, like a silent guardian.
Just like Mendel used to do.
Later, I’m alone in the back of the car, and the only sound is the silent hum of the engine. My head throbs and the city lights blur as Isaac drives me to my apartment. I’m exhausted, drained to the bone, and my mind is a tangled mess of growing dread.
Back at my apartment, the city lights outside my window seem mocking. I sink into my bed; the soft fabric feels good against my skin. I close my eyes, but my body refuses to drift off to sleep. Or so I think. When I open my eyes again, I’m startled. How long have I slept?
The city lights outside my window are now a blurry-drenched mess. I’m sprawled on my bed, my phone clutched in my hand, a lifeline to the world I’m trying to disconnect from. My bedroom feels like a cocoon, my tiny space a haven, but it’s not enough to silence my over-active mind.
My phone vibrates. It’s Alexander. The message reads, ‘You’re right. I’m a monster.’ The words are a punch to the gut, a confirmation of my worst fears.
I’m lost. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Every promise he made, every touch, feels like a lie.
My fingers tremble as I look up Sarah’s number, a desperate need to talk, to share the chaos inside my head. But just as I’m about to hit the call button, my phone rings.
It’s him.
My fingers hover over the green icon before swiping up and answering.
“Ava,” he says, his voice a rough rasp that makes my heart ache. “I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m so sorry for everything.”
His words are a whirlwind of remorse, his confession hitting me like a tidal wave.
I close my eyes, and the image of us together appears. I want to believe him, to forgive him. But the truth is too raw, too real. It’s a gaping wound that refuses to heal, a bleeding scar on my soul.
“I’m so sorry, Ava. I don’t know what to say. You were right. I was a monster. I was just— I don’t know— I made so many mistakes, and I’ve paid the price for them.”
He pauses, his voice a low murmur. “It’s not just the accident. I was involved in so much more, things I don’t want to talk about. Things I regret. But it’s too late now. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost you.”
I want to give him a chance, but I just can’t. Instead, a cold emptiness settles in my chest, a hollow ache where love used to be.
Stay strong, Ava.
My voice is cold. Still, it trembles. “Yes, Alexander. You’ve lost me, and you know what? I’m starting to think that’s a good thing.”
My words hit him hard; I can feel it through the phone. But inside, I feel something else, a longing that wants to unravel my carefully constructed wall of anger. I want to run to him, to tell him to come over, to hold me in the cold night, to whisper words into my ear, to be wrapped in his arms, to shelter me and protect me.
Instead, I hang up.