Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Even before Quinn heard the soft click of the door, she knew that Kya was gone. She was alone in the flat, and the heavy silence pressed on her chest. She blinked her eyes open and stared at the ceiling, wondering what to make of this. Really, she was waiting for a knock on the door. Any minute, Kya could return with coffee and pastries, like in rom-coms. A fair amount of time passed before she trashed that theory. Kya had left without saying goodbye. That was all there was to it.
Did she leave a note?
Quinn got out of bed and walked about the flat, searching for clues to solve the mystery of Kya’s sudden disappearance. She kept a pad and a mug stuffed with pens on the kitchen counter to scribble shopping lists, calendar reminders, addresses, or phone numbers. It was out there for everyone to see and would come in handy should an overnight guest decide to drop a note before sneaking out at dawn, but Kya hadn’t made use of it.
Out of an abundance of caution, Quinn sent a text message to Hugo. He confirmed her suspicions. Yes, Kya was home. In fact, she’d just walked in! Did she want to leave a message? Oh, for sure! Tell her I said good morning … and goodbye.
Quinn tossed her phone onto the sofa. A set of keys bounced off the cushion and landed on the wooden floor with a clang. They weren’t hers; she’d never seen them before. They could only belong to Kya. Had she been in such a hurry to leave, to escape, that she’d left her keys behind? Was that what it came down to?
Keys in hand, Quinn roamed through the flat again, walking aimlessly from room to room. Her mood shifted from sadness to confusion to frustration to sadness again, finally settling on anger. It started as a tingling at her fingertips that rushed through her entire body, like a swarm of angry bees. Kya had left without saying goodbye, without so much as a note. Who does that?
Girl, bye!
After all Quinn had done for her, how could she do this? She’d been a true friend! No one could say different. She’d listened, offered sympathy, advice, and even bubble tea. She’d invited her to her home, to her music studio, spent her very precious free time with her. She’d talked the girl off an emotional ledge, and this was how she repaid her? Not that she was seeking repayment. She’d done it out of genuine caring, the kindness of her heart. At the end of the day, she was a good person and she treated people with respect. She would never run out on someone, not like this anyway. How rude! How bloody rude!
One question bothered Quinn: why had she done it? What could’ve triggered her? Last night had been … lovely. Stretched out on her bed, Kya had asked, ‘Who broke your heart?’
‘Who? Me?’
‘Who else is in bed with us?’
‘It’s just …’ Quinn stammered. ‘What made you ask that?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re guarded.’
‘With good reason! The world is messed up.’
‘The world is a dark and awful place, but you somehow shine. I think it’s to keep people away.’
‘I blind them with my light?’ Quinn asked.
‘You blinded me.’
‘But you see me now, don’t you?’
‘I see you, Quinn.’
‘I see you, too, Kya.’
Soon after, they dozed off.
Quinn had stirred awake in the middle of the night and found Kya curled up beside her. The lamp on the bedside table was lit. In the soft glow, she looked like a sleeping angel. Quinn reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, draped it over her bare legs, then went to the kitchen to check that she had coffee – because surely Kya would want coffee first thing. Back in the bedroom, she switched off the light. In the morning, Kya was gone.
Had she missed something? Quinn didn’t think so. That was how it all went down.
Honestly? Screw it. She wasn’t going to waste time mulling it over. At the end of the day, Kya was a smart and sensible human being. She must have had her reasons for behaving the way she did. Whatever those reasons might be, Quinn had zero interest. She was busy, anyway. She had a gig later today, one that paid very well. After breakfast, she would lock herself in her studio and work on her playlist. She’d put Kya out of her mind. Her triggers, her issues, her drama, her moods, her need for morning coffee, her smile, her laugh, musical in the night, her features soft with sleep, or any combination of the above, were none of Quinn’s concern. She was over it. Done.
What about the keys, still in her tight fist?
She’d return them; it was only right. And then she was done.