Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
She looks too pale, too sickly. I reach out and place a hand on her forehead. Her skin is hot—too hot. The knot in my stomach tightens as I kneel by the bed, my palm against her temple.
“Raven,” I call again.
Her eyelids flutter, and she shifts slightly, her lips parting as though she’s about to speak, but she only manages a weary sigh.
I press my palm against her cheek, feeling the heat radiating from her. “You’re burning up,” I mutter. I caused this.
Panic claws at my chest, but it’s as though her vision suddenly clears, and finally, she realizes I’m in her room. Instantly, her entire demeanor changes. Light seems to come back to her eyes, but not in a good way. She struggles to sit up, and it’s an unbelievably painful sight to see.
“Leave,” she mumbles and pushes my hand away. “Leave, I don’t want you here.”
The moment causes a spasm of coughs to shake her body. Heart-wrenching coughs that require her to hold her chest. I remember how she was when she got pneumonia once. It started as a simple cold before it plunged her into days in bed.
“Leave,” she says when the coughing subsides. “I don’t want you here.”
I realize there is nothing I can do for her but call the doctor. He will know what is best for her.
I take one last look at her stubborn pale face, then turn around and exit her bedroom.
CHAPTER 37
RAVEN
The door clicks shut, and the silence that follows is so complete I can hear myself breathing. I stay under the covers, curled in on myself, the warmth of the blanket doing little to thaw the cold hollow feeling in my chest. Every muscle in my body feels locked in place, like moving would shatter me into pieces too small to ever put back together.
I hate how his presence lingers even after he’s gone, like a shadow creeping into every corner of my thoughts. I hate the way my skin still burns from his touch, no matter how much I loathe it. But most of all, I hate the way I still feel tethered to him, as if his absence is more terrible than his presence.
I bury my face deeper into the pillow and try to go back to sleep, but it doesn’t work. I’m too aware of everything—my heartbeat pounding in my ears, the faint occasional gurgling noise of the central heating pipes, the soft rustle of the blanket every time I move. It all feels too loud, too much.
I scrunch my eyes closed, determined to will myself to sleep, but my mind won’t stop racing. Everything that happened last night keeps replaying in my head, looping endlessly until I want to scream. My throat is dry and my eyes are burning with unshed tears, but all I can think of is how much I want him back here, next to me. But I won’t call him back. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how totally he’s broken me.
Minutes pass, maybe hours, and exhaustion presses down on me. My body feels hot and aches with the kind of weariness that no amount of sleep can fix. I need to get up, shower, and have a cold drink, but the thought of moving feels insurmountable. Instead, I stay where I am, hoping that if I stay still enough, the world will stop spinning around me.
But it doesn’t. It never does.
Eventually, I hear the faint buzz of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I don’t want to look at it—I know it’s probably just another message from someone I don’t have the energy to respond to. But the persistent sound gnaws at me until I finally reach out, my hand shaking as I grab the phone.
The screen lights up with a string of notifications—missed calls and messages. The first one is from Sunny asking me about the big dance and wanting to know if she can stop by with a cake later that day. Her enthusiasm feels misplaced, a stark contrast to the heaviness in my chest.
Then I see a message from Charles.
Charles!
I stare in disbelief at his name. His message is brief, just enough to make my stomach tighten.
Something amazing has happened
I really need to talk to you.
Let’s meet soon. Love, C
The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. Charles—the man I left at the altar, the man I thought I’d never hear from again—wants to meet. What could he possibly have to say? Part of me wants to reply, to ask him what’s so important, but I can’t bring myself to. Not when I feel shitty and everything in my life feels so tragic. I can’t bring another unstable variable to it. More than anything now, I need stability, comfort, and peace. I need to get better and go back to Mom and Dad.