Chapter Three
Nik’s badly bruisedknuckles made it difficult for him to unlock the door to Daria’s apartment, but the knob finally turned after several tries.
When the lights were on, the first thing he saw was the empty suitcase on the floor, and self-contempt seared through him at the sight of it. Jerking his gaze away, he walked further inside. Everything he saw came with memories, and each one of them ripped his chest wide open with agonizing pain.
The couch where she sometimes made him read a book aloud while Daria laid her head on his lap and listened to him. So his vocal chords wouldn’t get rusty, she had told him seriously.
He checked the cupboards and found leftover ingredients from their last trip to the grocery. He opened the refrigerator, and his heart stopped at the sight of the cake on the lower tray.
Happy Eight Weeks.
Inside the bedroom, he took his time going through her dresses, finding a sense of comfort at seeing them. None of his investigators had managed to come up with any clues about where Daria was now. It had driven him to seek her presence in her apartment – he needed something to cling to, needed a reason to keep hoping.
He found a box in her closet and taking it out, he saw that it was a Gatorade bottle with a piece of paper inside it.
He read the message, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or despair at how silly...at how goddamn sweet she was. Her mother was right. No one was as silly and sweet as Daria was, for thinking that God could give her a prince with a message in a bottle and pandas of all things as a sign.
And yet...God had, only Nik had chosen to turn himself into a frog.
He moved to her desk, taking a seat before pulling the drawer open. The first thing he saw was her calendar, and he felt the blood leeching out of him as he realized what it was.
“Theo,” he whispered hoarsely. No, God, no—-
A calendar that had only Mondays and Fridays, a calendar that said her world revolved around a bastard like him.
The calendar slipped from his hands.
Forgive me, Daria.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
Forgive me.
****
“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, Bella,” Daria exclaimed when she saw the 3D paper-cut tiara on her student’s IG account.
As she spoke, the dictation software she used caught her words, and they appeared on the screen.
“You’ve come so far,” she said sincerely. It was true. Of all her online students, Bella had proved to be the most diligent. Although she had only been Daria’s student for a week, she had already completed close to forty hours and the first one to create the 3D paper-cut assignment.
Bella: It looks even prettier in person, Ms. Everest. Thank you for being patient with me.
Daria smiled. “You’re too sweet.” So sweet, in fact, that she had found herself sharing more personal stuff with Bella than with other students. There was just something about the way Bella always seemed to understand and never sought to judge that encouraged Daria to talk.
Bella: Will we have lessons tonight?
“I’m afraid not. I’ve been invited by my neighbor to some kind of party.” She wrinkled her nose as she spoke. The idea of going out and being around so many people still didn’t appeal to her, but Grant had been so insistent and she hadn’t wanted to be rude.
Bella: Ooooh. A guy?
“Yeah,” she said glumly. Grant had been dropping more hints than usual, and she didn’t want to think of the day that she would have to turn him down.
Bella: You like him?
“I don’t hate him.” It felt disloyal to say she didn’t like Grant outright even though that was exactly how Daria felt. In fact, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fallen for him still. Grant was good-looking, rich, intelligent, and nice. He also knew about her “past” and he didn’t mind.