Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Christine
I don’t remember walking into my room.
One minute I’m in that hall, with the lights too bright, voices too loud, and my name being called from somewhere around me.
Next, I’m here, in my bedroom, with the door shut. And somehow it still feels like I didn’t make it far enough.
My hands are shaking violently so much so that I have to steady them against the edge of the dresser before I reach for anything.
My mind is worse. It won’t stop.
It keeps circling back.
Not to the kiss. Not even the sex outside. But to the way he looked at Blue.
That stillness. That recognition.
Robert is not a man who misses things. He doesn’t guess. He calculates, connects, and concludes.
And I saw it all happen in real time.
I suck in a deep breath, my stomach folding as something cold drops beneath my ribs. I force myself to move, to do something normal, something routine, something that makes it feel like my life is still mine.
I start with my earrings, unclasping them slowly, placing them down with more care than necessary. Then the bracelet. The heels come off next, my toes flexing slightly against the floor as relief crashes in.
I move to the mirror and I let out another slow breath before reaching for the cotton pads.
I work it into my skin in small, practiced motions, watching myself in the mirror like I’m studying a stranger. Foundation lifts, powder fades, the version of me I presented to the world dissolves layer by layer.
But it’s not enough. Because what’s underneath is the problem. And maybe that’s why I’m doing it, because thinking is dangerous right now.
Thinking leads me back to him. To that look. To the way his gaze moved from me to her and didn’t come back the same.
My fingers pause briefly over the jar of clay mask before I open it. I scoop a small amount, spreading it over my skin, cool and smooth, sealing everything in.
I stare at myself again, and for the longest second, I wish this were enough. That I could leave it on and stay like this.Hidden and unreachable.
A soft knock breaks through the thought. Then the door opens before I can respond.
Aisha steps in with a bag of salted potato chips in her hand, already half-open. She closes the door behind her with her foot and leans against it, her eyes landing on me immediately.
“The woman of the moment.” She walks in slowly, the faint sound of the chips crinkling as she stops a few feet away from me.
Her gaze doesn’t waver even once as she takes me in fully, peeling through the layers to the tension I haven’t managed to hide as well as I thought.
“Start talking.” She exhales lightly.
I don’t answer immediately, because I’m whisking up the best answer in my head. I… I could lie. I could try to deflect or even laugh it off, and tell her she’s reading too much into a long night after too many glasses of champagne.
It would be easy.
But Aisha doesn’t make it easy. She watches me like she already knows. Like she’s just waiting for me to catch up to it.
“Blue…” She starts, not giving me space to interrupt her. “And that man…” Her eyes narrow slightly. “The resemblance is not normal, Christine.”
My throat shrinks as I gulp dry air.
I turn away from the mirror, reaching for a towel that doesn’t need reaching for, wiping my hands that aren’t wet just to have something to do.
“It’s late,” I reply instead, a little too quickly. “You’re tired. You’re..” I smooth my hands over my oversized T-shirt.
“Really?” She cuts in, fierce enough to stop me mid-motion. “That is not a coincidence.”
I let out a breath, forcing something into it, something that doesn’t sound like my chest is tightening.
“Aisha…”
“No,” she steps closer, the bag of chips crinkling in her hand as she drops it onto the bed without looking. “No, don’t do that thing where you play around with words and make it small. I saw him. I saw Blue. I saw him and Blue… I’m not blind.”
“No.” I shake my head once, a weak attempt at dismissal that doesn’t even convince me. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m connecting dots,” she corrects immediately. “And they’re not subtle.”
She holds my gaze, unflinching.
The silence turns into something suffocating, grating at my lungs.
“Christie.” She studies me again, longer this time, her gaze dragging over my face like she’s searching for the truth I’m trying to keep in. “It’s me, best friend and sister, remember?”
My stomach drops, my eyes too heavy to keep up with the staredown.
“That always worked.” Her brows pull together, her lips thinning.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I stroll over and sink onto the edge of the bed.
I exhale slowly, my hands resting in my lap, fingers curling into each other as I stare at nothing for a second too long.
“He’s…” My voice falters, and I hate that. I clear it and start again. “He’s the one… The one from Vegas.”
Her eyes widen, recognition slamming into place, connecting everything I didn’t have to spell out.
Her expression stiffens instantly.
“Are you serious?” She breathes out, disbelief flashing across her face before it twists into something a little like disgust. “That’s him?”
I nod, unable to form coherent words.
“Oh my God.” She runs a hand over her head, pacing like she needs somewhere to put it. “That’s him?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Her laugh breaks out, but there’s no humor in it. “Of all the…” She cuts herself off, shaking her head, her anger rising too fast to stay contained. “Christine, that man…”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” she snaps, turning back to me, her eyes blazing now. “You don’t, because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing there acting like this is just… something to process.”
“I’m not acting like anything,” I shoot back, but it’s weak.
“He broke you,” she spells it out. “Do you remember that? Or do you want me to remind you?”
“Aisha he didn’t…”
“You came back from that trip and you were not the same,” she continues, her voice chipping away whatever composure I’m trying to hold onto. “You shut down parts of yourself trying to survive him.”
“I said I know,” I repeat, but it doesn’t carry through.
“And now he’s just here?” She gestures vaguely, like the idea itself is offensive. “Just walking into your life as if nothing happened?”
“He didn’t force anything,” I cut in quickly. “Not in Vegas, and definitely not tonight.”
I clip my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop me from spilling that the reason I was that broken after Vegas, was merely because of my newfound attachment to Robert.
Aisha blinks once, then narrows her eyes.
“I didn’t say he did.” She scoffs.
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say he took advantage of a situation you didn’t understand,” she fires back. “Which is not better, Christine.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And wait… Tonight?” Her eyes burn through, like she’s trying to decide whether to shake me or hold me, and I don’t have the energy for either.
Luckily, my phone buzzes, interrupting her train of thought.
We both glance at it at the same time to catch the unknown caller flashing across the screen.
I frown.
For a second, I consider ignoring it. I should. Nothing good comes from answering such calls. But I’ll take being dipped in fresh blood and swimming across a sea of sharks, over continuing this conversation with Aisha.
“Hello?” I speak into the receiver, tilting away from her.
“Miss me already?” The caller drawls and my stomach turns.
It’s Daniel.
I close my eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of my nose before I turn further away from Aisha, even though she already knows from my expression that something’s off.
“You should be on your honeymoon,” I hiss out, not even trying to hide the irritation.
He laughs softly, like he’s not calling me from what’s supposed to be the start of his marriage.
“I am,” he replies easily. “I thought I’d check in on my favorite planner.”
“I’m not your anything, idiot.”
“Still feisty,” he hums, enjoying it. “I like that.”
Aisha is watching me now, her arms folded, her expression already darkening as she reads the shift in my tone.
“What do you want, Daniel?” I ask, burning through whatever game he thinks he’s playing.
“I was thinking,” he starts casually. “You’ve got talent, real talent. Tonight proved that.”
“Seriously?”
“And… I can help you,” he continues. “I can open doors you wouldn’t even know how to knock on. Get you bigger clients. Better venues. International work if you want it.”
“And what do you get?” I know his game but I play it anyway.
“There she is.” He chuckles, then clears his throat. “It’s simple… You spend time with me.”
“There he is,” I throw back at him.
“Come on…” He feigns innocence. “I’m just offering a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he continues smoothly. “You’re good at what you do. I’m good at… making things happen.”
“And did you forget the part where you’re supposed to be married?”
“And?” he replies, like it means nothing. “That doesn’t change anything between us.”
“There is nothing between us.”
“Oh, stop it,” his voice drops slightly, more familiar and invasive now. “Don’t pretend like we don’t have history.”
My stomach churns, bile rushing to the back of my throat.
“History doesn’t entitle you to anything,” I snap.
“It entitles me to ask.”
“And I’m saying no.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, the ease slipping just slightly. “Because opportunities like this don’t come around often.”
“I’m not interested.” I snap.
“You might want to rethink that.”
“Fuck off, Daniel.”
He takes a minute, as if turning the rejection over in his head.
“Alright,” he exhales finally, but it doesn’t sound like agreement. “We’ll talk about it again.”
“We won’t.” I don’t wait for a response.
“What did he say?” Aisha is already moving toward me the moment I end the call.
I open my mouth to answer, but the sound of my phone clamps it shut. I look down at it to see a message from the same unknown number.
: You really shouldn’t hang up on me like that.
I’m still trying to gather my words when another comes in almost immediately.
: It’s rude.
Another buzz.
: We can do this the easy way or the hard way.
“Is that him?” Aisha probes.
I tilt the phone slightly so she can read.
“Are you serious?” Her expression darkens instantly, already reaching for the phone to respond herself.
“It’s fine,” I snatch the phone back, just in time for another message to come in.
: Don’t make me remind you how this can play out.
“I’m not doing this with him tonight.” I lock the screen and set the phone down.
“No…” Aisha looks at me like she doesn’t agree. Like she wants me to take it more seriously.
Maybe I should, but right now, I don’t have the space.
“You know how Daniel is.” I shrug, like that explains everything.
Because it does. Because this is exactly who he is. And I’ve dealt with worse from him before.
“This is why I don’t like men with money.” She starts pacing, burning off energy she can’t hold. “They think everything is negotiable. Morals, boundaries, marriages… everything.”
I lean back on my elbows, watching her, too tired to match her pace, but not too tired to feel the tension still crawling under my skin.
“You know Daniel,” I repeat, quieter now, like reducing him to a name makes it smaller.
“Do I?” She snaps, stopping mid-step to look at me. “Do I know the entitled prick?” She gestures wildly, like the word isn’t big enough to hold it. “This is criminal behavior adjacent.”
Despite everything, a small breath escapes me.
She catches it.
“Don’t laugh,” she warns, pointing at me. “I’m serious. This is how documentaries start.”
“I’m not starring in a documentary, Aisha.”
“Yet,” she corrects immediately. “Because right now? You’ve got one man who clearly hasn’t accepted rejection since birth, and another one who just…
” she cuts herself off, shaking her head.
“No, we’re not even unpacking Robert tonight because I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that level of chaos. ”
“That makes two of us.”
She ignores that.
“We need a plan,” she continues, already moving again. “Step one, we block him.”
“He has other numbers.”
“Okay, fine. Step two, we report him.”
“To whom?”
“Well…” She pauses to consider it. “…Someone.”
I stare at her and she sighs.
“Okay, fine. Step two is we gather evidence, then report him. Step three…” her eyes light up slightly, and I already know I’m not going to like whatever comes next. “...We expose him.”
“Aisha.”
“I’m serious,” she insists. “We need screenshots and voice notes. We then send it to his wife, his family, his business partners… any and everyone.”
“No.” I push off the mattress, shaking my head.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be tied to him any longer than necessary,” I reply, my voice firmer than I feel. “Dragging it out makes it worse.”
“He’s already making it worse.”
“I know,” I exhale, pressing my fingers briefly to my temple. “But escalating it like that? That won’t end well for me either”
She studies me long and hard. Then her shoulders drop slightly.
“Okay.” She nods, swallowing air. “For now, we handle it your way.”
I don’t ask what that means. Because I don’t fully know what my way is yet. All I know is I don’t want him anywhere near my life again.
Aisha glances at the time on her phone, then back at me.
“You’re not okay,” she notes.
“I will be.”
“Sleep.” She nods instead of arguing. That’s how I know she’s really worried. “You need sleep. Everything looks worse when you’re tired.”
“That’s the most reasonable thing you’ve said all night.”
“I’ve said a lot of reasonable things,” she grumbles, reaching for her chips again. “You just chose not to listen.”
I walk her to the door anyway because that’s what we do. Even when everything is falling apart, we still do the small, normal things.
She pauses at the doorway, looking back at me one more time.
“If he texts again…”
“I’ll handle it.”
She holds my gaze for a second longer, then nods.
“Lock your door.” She warns with a glare.
“I will.” I smile softly.
She leaves.
I shut the door, and lean against it for a second. Just a second. Then push away, dragging my feet back to my bed.
My phone buzzes again.
I don’t even want to look, but I do.
As expected, it’s an unknown number, but different from the first.
: We need to talk.
I keep staring at it when another message comes in almost immediately.
: Tomorrow. 10AM.
Then another comes in with the location of a Japanese restaurant.
I exhale slowly, locking the screen, already deciding I’m not engaging with Daniel. Not tonight or tomorrow. Not ever again if I can help it.
The phone buzzes again.
I almost ignore it. Almost. But something makes me look. Call it curiosity that kills the cat, or the chase of satisfaction that brings it back alive.
It’s another message.
: It’s Robert.
My heart drops.
: We need to talk about Blue.
Everything stills.
The room.
My breath.
My thoughts.
Shit! Shit! Shit!