Chapter 1
— Rose, wake up! It’s your birthday! — Ava burst into the room and pulled the curtains so sharply that the sunlight hit me like a slap straight to the eyes.
I buried my head in the three pillows I had arranged around myself, trying to find a comfortable position. Everything hurt. Literally everything.
— Go away, Ava. I don’t want to get up. This doesn't feel like a celebration at all — I murmured through the fabric.
— Come on, I’ve made pancakes. The whole house smells like coffee and...
— Don’t mention coffee! — I interrupted her and sat up abruptly, but the world around me took a full turn.
My stomach twisted into a knot and I felt the familiar, bitter taste in my throat. It was already the fourth week, and this "morning" sickness actually lasted twenty-four hours a day. I practically ran to the bathroom, slamming the door with my shoulder. I knelt before the toilet and stayed like that for several minutes, trembling.
— Are you okay? — Ava’s voice sounded muffled through the wood.
— I’m great. Just wonderful — I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and leaned against the cold tiles. — My birthday is a total failure. I’m nauseous, my breasts hurt, and I feel like a wreck.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Pale skin, dark circles under my eyes. Where did the cold-blooded Donna go? Now I was just a pregnant woman hiding in her friend’s apartment. Zayden probably thought I was celebrating somewhere. He knew nothing. And that was for the best. I had to pull myself together. I couldn't let a hormonal breakdown finish me off. Today I was turning twenty-six, and this was my first birthday without my father, without my brother... and without my husband. I stood up slowly, rinsed my face with cold water, and exhaled. Another day of survival.
I put on the short black dress. The fabric is cold against my skin, and fastening the garters irritates me because my fingers are shaking slightly. I have to look like the Donna, even if everything inside is ground to a pulp. I walk out into the kitchen, trying to step steadily on my high heels, despite the fact that my stomach is still rebelling.
My mother is already there, leaning against the counter. She looks elegant, as always, but in her eyes, you can read that fatigue that you can't hide with makeup.
— There she is, my grown-up girl — she says, and her voice wavers slightly.
She sets down her cup of tea and approaches me. She hugs me tightly—one of those hugs that feels like it’s trying to put you back together. I smell her perfume, which takes me back years, to when everything was simpler.
— Happy birthday, Rose — she whispers into my ear. — I wish... I wish things were different for you. At least today.
— Me too, Mom — I reply and bury my face in her shoulder for a moment.
She lets go and takes my face in her hands, looking at me carefully. Her thumbs stroke my cheekbones.
— You’re pale. Have you even eaten? Ava said you were unwell this morning.
— I’m fine. Just... hormones. And a lack of sleep.
— Did Zayden call? — she asks, and I immediately feel my body tense up.
— I don’t care if he calls. Today is for me. Not for him — I lied, and she realized it immediately by the way I looked away.
My mother said nothing more. She just went to the fridge and took out a small cake. Small gestures are all we have left in this house full of shadows. I watch her making an effort and feel guilty that I can't just smile and be happy. Too much blood has flowed under the bridge in one year. But for her sake, I’ll try to eat at least one piece. For her sake and for the sake of what is growing inside me.
Mom pushes the plate toward me and looks at me with that worried gaze of hers that makes me feel five years old.
— Eat something, Rose. You look bad, you’re completely pale.
— I can't, Mom, really. Just the smell of sugar makes me feel sick — I put down the fork and push it aside.
Just as I’m about to get up to pour myself some water, the doorbell rings. Ava goes to open it, and I stand in the middle of the kitchen, instinctively smoothing my black dress. I hear voices, heavy footsteps, and my heart does a stupid little skip. Luke enters the room, grinning from ear to ear, holding a huge box covered in some kind of gold paper.
— Happy birthday to the best Donna! — he shouts and sets the gift on the table, then lifts me into a hug. — You didn't think we’d let you celebrate only with the girls, did you?
I smile, but my gaze immediately slides behind him. There, in the doorway, stands Zayden. His hands are in his trouser pockets, and his jacket is slightly unbuttoned. He looks better than the last time—the wounds on his face have started to heal, but in his grey eyes, there is something... unfamiliar. A touch less arrogance.
— Hello, Rose — he says quietly.
His voice is slightly husky. He looks at me as if he’s trying to figure out if I still hate him as much as I did a week ago. I don’t answer him immediately. I notice his fingers twitch slightly, as if he wants to touch me, but he stops. He’s afraid of my reaction. And for good reason.
— Luke, thank you — I say, intentionally ignoring Zayden. — I’m glad you came.
The atmosphere becomes thick. My mother clears her throat, and Luke starts rambling about some new restaurant, trying to fill the silence. I, however, feel Zayden’s presence in every cell of my body. It irritates me how good he looks even when he’s broken. It irritates me that he came. But most of all, it irritates me that, despite everything, I’m glad to see him. I look him in the eye and say nothing. Let him sweat. He needs to know that just because he walked through the door, it doesn't mean he walked back into my life.
— You’ll open the gifts later, Rose — my mother says and taps her spoon nervously against the rim of her plate. — Come have some cake, boys.
Luke approaches and looks at me carefully. I see him knit his brows as he notices my pale face.
— How are you, Rose? You look... tired. Ava said you weren't feeling well this morning — he puts a hand on the back of my chair.
— I’m fine, Luke. It’s just been busy lately — I reply and try to push the plate with the cake further away. The very smell of the chocolate makes me swallow hard.
Zayden steps closer. I feel his heat, that perfume of his that usually calms me, but now it only irritates me. He looks at me, waiting for me to look at him, to give him a sign that he can say something. But I stare into my glass of water. He doesn't exist. To me, he isn't in this room.
— Rose — his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.
I don’t flinch. I take the glass and have a small sip, looking right through him at the wall.
— The cake is great, Mom — I say and force a smile. — Luke, take a bigger piece.
Zayden clears his throat; I see peripherally how he clenches his fists in his pockets. He’s irritated by my silence. He’s always hated when he can't control the conversation. Let him sit there and feel redundant. He doesn't deserve a single word of mine today. Luke looks at me, then at him, and immediately feels the tension. He starts talking about some nonsense from the office, just so it isn't so quiet. My hands under the table are clenched into fists. Zayden is still watching me. I feel his gaze on my neck. I feel like screaming at him to leave, but that would mean I care. So I just stay silent.
