37. Two Days Before
Samantha
The days pass in a thick haze.
I work fifteen hours a day, at school and at home. Yet Alexander never leaves my thoughts. He slips in everywhere: into the silence between two brushstrokes, into the half-sleep I drift into each night, into those moments when I catch myself smiling for no reason at all, just thinking of him.
The IPO is in two days. I allow myself a break—the first in a long time—and go out shopping. I want to get him a gift. Something simple. A way of being present, even if our schedules are completely incompatible.
My budget is modest, but that’s not what matters. It’s the intention. The fact that, despite everything going on in my life, he’s still the one I think of first.
I quickly find what I’m looking for at Galeries Lafayette: a pair of understated cufflinks in matte silver. Perfect. He’ll be able to wear them that day, have them against his skin, knowing that I’m with him. That even if I’m not physically there, my heart and my thoughts are with him every moment.
Back at the apartment, I take out my India ink, my brush, my blank cards. I paint the Eiffel Tower in the style of Japanese calligraphers. Clean lines. No room for error.
The first attempts are failures. Too hesitant.
Too heavy. The brush refuses to follow my thoughts.
Then, little by little, the gesture sharpens.
My breathing steadies. On the tenth attempt, I get one that satisfies me.
I leave it to dry on the table, then write a few words on the back before carefully wrapping everything.
For a moment, I consider delivering the package myself. Imagining his face lighting up.
But no. He needs to stay focused. No distractions.
I pay for express delivery for the big day, seven a.m. It costs me a small fortune, but that doesn’t matter.
On the day itself, I’m jittery, unable to concentrate. I picture Alexander in a glass-walled office, at the heart of the most important moment of his career.
No message telling me what he thinks of my gift. That’s okay. He must be overwhelmed.
At six p.m., I read the news.
MatchMapping: a strong IPO debut.
The numbers match what he was hoping for.
He made it.
I’m so happy for him.
The evening drags on. Still nothing. He must be celebrating with his colleagues.
Eleven p.m.: he’s not going to call.
I’m disappointed, but I understand. He’s lived through a monumental day. Even so… a simple message would have been enough.
I write to him anyway.
Sam: I know today was intense for you. I thought about you all day. I would have loved to hear your voice tonight, but you must be exhausted. I’ll call you tomorrow. I miss you.
No reply.
Still, I wait.
The minutes stretch on. I toss and turn in bed, change positions, stare at the ceiling.
The silence of my phone becomes deafening.
Exhausted, I close my eyes, my phone pressed tightly against my chest, just in case it vibrates during the night.
But it stays stubbornly silent.
*
The next day, I go to class even though my heart isn’t in it.
I try to focus: tomorrow, part of my future will be decided.
Tomorrow, I will appear before the academic committee.
I will find out if I am allowed to complete my year.
In the studio, my classmates—who all know about my setbacks—are especially present. They stop by, encourage me, support me.
It warms my heart. But Alexander’s silence weighs on me more and more.
As we’re leaving, Dorian calls out to me.
“Hey, Sam. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“I’m okay.”
“Oh yeah? You don’t sound very convinced.”
“I’ll admit I’m not feeling very confident this time,” I tell him. “I barely have anything to show.”
“You don’t need to worry. Your work is amazing,” he says, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “The jury will see it. And in five years, you’ll be famous, exhibiting all over the world, making millions!”
I laugh and rise up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.
“Thanks for the support, Dorian.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replies, pulling me into a hug.
Suddenly, a car door slams.
Alexander steps out of the vehicle.
He’s here.
My heart leaps with joy.
Then I meet his gaze.
The fury burning there sends a chill through me.
“So he’s the reason you didn’t even bother sending me a message to wish me good luck?” he snaps, his voice hard. “You were so wrapped up in him that you couldn’t even take two minutes to send me a text, on one of the most important days of my life? Since when do you not give a damn about me?”
“What?” I panic. “No, Alexander, it’s not what you think,” I protest, panic flooding me.
But he refuses to listen. His words fall, venomous.
“And I thought you were different from your sister.”
I stiffen as if he’s just slapped me.
“Alexander… please… let me explain,” I whisper, pleading.
“Nothing you have to say interests me,” he cuts me off. “It’s over.”
No.
He didn’t just say that.
But his expression leaves no room for doubt and my heart cracks in my chest.
He condemned me and ended our relationship without even letting me explain.
He compared me to my sister, the person I despise the most in the world.
And he claims to have feelings for me?
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he had said.
Is that what his love is worth?
Fine. He can keep it. I don’t want it.
Then his gaze shifts to Dorian… and to Dorian’s partner, who has just joined him. They kiss, right there, on the mouth.
I see the exact moment Alexander realizes his mistake.
Horror and panic chase each other across his face.
Too late. Some words can’t be taken back.
He turns toward me to apologize. I don’t give him the chance.
“No,” I say, my voice calm, final. “You were very clear about what you think of me.”
“I—”
“Stop,” I cut in sharply. “Just like you said yourself: it’s over between us.”
And I walk away, melting into the crowd without looking back.