Elena’s POV:
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1 held my phone tightly as listened to Niki’s voice through the speaker. His tone was apologetic but clipped, tense like he was juggling five things at once and trying not to drop a single one.
“If your mom could pack the food, that’d be great,” he said. “I’ll send the driver to pick it up.”
I tried to sound casual. Light. Breezy. Like it didn’t matter. “Yeah… of course. That’s fine.”
But as soon as I ended the call, my fingers tightened around the phone, and I let out a breath that felt too tight in my chest.
He had work. Of course he had work. I wasn’t mad at him. Not really. But for some reason, the disappointment settled into my bones like a cold.
It was stupid, wasn’t it? To feel this way. To expect him to show up when I knew his te was overflowing. I mean, he’d basically been on my beck and call for the past three weeks. Maybe I’d just gotten used to it. Used to him.
I told myself I wasn’t upset. And maybe I even believed it for a second.
But my mom saw through it immediately.
She’d been setting out the tes on the dining table, and the second I looked up at her with a forced smile, she caught the flicker of something in my expression. Her hands stilled. She gave me a quiet, knowing look, then stepped over and gently rubbed my back.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” she said softly. “We’ll enjoy lunch together, just us.”
I nodded, forcing a smile as we sat down.
The food was warm and fragrant–lentils simmered just right, the kebabs still steaming. Comfort food.
We sat in silence for a bit, eating. But I could feel her watching me, her eyes warm and thoughtful.
“Elena,” she said gently, “have you thought about what you’ll do after graduation? Are your ns still the same?“”
I blinked and looked up, chewing slowly. That wasn’t the question I expected.
“What do you mean?” I asked, swallowing. “Why would I change my n?” Even though I said that, I had asked myself the same question multiple times.
Her expression softened. She reached across the table and ced her hand over mine.
“Sweetheart… I know you’ve always wanted to be independent. You’ve worked so hard for that. And before–when things were different–Ipletely understood. You needed to stand on your own. But…” she trailed off, a fond smile creeping across her lips. “These past three weeks… I’ve seen a change. In him. In you. Niki isn’t like Dmitri. He’s… different. He’s someone that reminds me of George.”
My brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
Sheughed gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m saying… maybe you don’t have to rush into job–hunting right away. You already skipped most of your teenage years because of your condition. Then you buried yourself in academics just to catch up. You fought for every inch of your future, Elena. And I’m so proud of you.”
Her voice was calm, affectionate–but there was something else behind it. Something heavier.
I just think… maybe it’s okay to take a breath now<i>,</i><i>” </i>she continued. “Instead of going straight into a traditional desk job–why not explore what you really want? You have so much potential, Elena. You always have. And now, you finally have options. You said Niki is close with Seraphina Legacy. right? if she sees what I see in you, she could open doors no one else could.”
i blinked, stunned. “Mom…wait–are you saying I should use Niki’s connections to get into Legacy?”
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She hesitated. Then sighed, eyes flickering with guilt. “Sweetie, I just want what’s best for you. I want to see you seed. Settle into your life. You’ve already proven how capable you are. But there’s no shame in epting help. Especially from someone who loves you.”
“But… you always told me never to rely on a man,” I said quietly. “To build everything with my own hands. To never take shortcuts.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I still believe in that. I raised you to be self–sufficient. But I also raised you to survive. And now that I’m getting older… I guess I’ve started to realize that surviving and thriving aren’t the same thing.”
My throat tightened.
She looked down at her hands, voice trembling just slightly. “You know… I used to think all those things old women said–about wanting to see their kids married off, starting families, building their own lives–I thought it was all nonsense. But now… I don’t know. Lately, I’ve been feeling like maybe I won’t be here for everything. And I want to know that you’ll be okay.”
“Don’t,” I said quickly, voice shaking. “Don’t say that. I still need you, okay? I don’t care how old you think you’re getting. You’re not going anywhere.”
She smiled, eyes a little ssy. “Alright, alright.”
“But what you said… it doesn’t sit right with me, Mom.” I took a deep breath, trying to find the words. “I was already nning to apply for an internship at Legacy. On my own. Not because someone handed it to me, but because I deserve to be there. And if Niko’s the one who gets me in… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take pride in it.”
“I understand,” she said softly.
“And as for kids,” I added, suddenly serious, “neither of us are ready. Not emotionally. Not mentally. And I refuse to bring a child into this world unless I know–really know–that we’re both in a ce to love and protect them. Otherwise, it’s unfair. For everyone.”
She sighed and nodded, brushing crumbs off the table. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
We stood to clean up. She hummed softly as she wiped the counters, and I stacked the tes in the sink.
Eventually, I made my way to the living room. I pulled out my textbook and settled into the armchair, flipping through highlighted pages, trying to focus on chapters I’d marked weeks ago. My mom joined me on the couch, knitting needles cking as she worked on a thick, pale green scarf.
She never used to do crafts. Always preferred hiking, dancing, anything active. Buttely, she’d taken to slow hobbies like these.
I nced over, watching her fingers move methodically. A strange mncholy crept into my chest. Like I was watching the years slip through her fingers, loop by loop.
Just as I turned my eyes back to my book, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” said quickly, rising to my feet and smoothing my dress.
I opened the door–and blinked in surprise.
Alex stood on the porch, dressed impably in tailored navy trousers and a pastel shirt. His ck hair was perfectly styled, and he wore a pair of designer sunsses despite the afternoon sun being half–hidden behind clouds.
He pulled them off with a dramatic flourish, grinning. “Hi, Elena! You look radiant, as always.”
1ughed despite myself. “Alex? What are you doing here?”
“May Ie in?” he asked with a charming smile.
“Oh–yes, of course. Sorry. Please,e in.” I stepped aside, motioning him in.
As he entered, a second figure appeared—one of his assistants probably, clearly struggling to maneuver a clothing rack up the porch steps. My eyes widened.
213
“Wait–is that an
entire wardrobe?”
“Oh,
you know
me.”
Alex winked. “I nevere unprepared.”
The assistant
finally managed to wheel
the rack inside, parking i
it near the corner of the room.
I turned
to Alex, still a little dazed. “You didn’t l have toe
all the
way here. I could’vee
to your
studio.”
<b>70 </b>
“Oh, no,
o, no,
o, no,” “he said, waving a manicured hand. “This is a hundred times better. No colleagues snooping around. No gossiping in corners. Besides-” he
assistants whispering nced around, eyes lighting up-“this ce is adorable. Very cozy. Scandinavian–chic. Ooh, is that a dreamcatcher?
Sweet!<b>” </b>
else.”
He grinned. “And Ie bearing gowns. Niki wanted me to dress
you for
tonight.”
“Right,” I said, ncing at the rack. “The g.”
I couldn’t help wanting Niki Iwith me at this moment. Which was
stupid. He obviously had work.
Sol
I swallowed hard, pushing the unease down. For now, I need to focus on getting ready, and making sure I didn’t make a
Hopefully,
this get together of the rich would be better than thest time.
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fool out