“I’m scared,” she said, hitting me right where I didn’t want to be hit. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it, and I promised not to hide the way I feel.”
I found the courage to look into her eyes. “You’re scared of me?”
“No, of course not, why…”
Recognition crossed her face, and she pressed her lips to mine. The innocent kiss turned greedy quickly, as if the emotions raging inside of us needed an outlet and showcasing how much we cared was the best route to take.
“I know you wouldneverhurt me.” She inched away. “I’m scared Adrian will do something reckless.”
“It’s his life and his choice. You’re not responsible for him.” I kissed her head, pressing her to my chest. “It’s time for you to let him go.”
Nadia hardly slept that night, tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares. I waited, expecting a panic attack to bring her down, but a whole week went by without as much as one tear.
My phone woke me in the middle of the night, eight days after Adrian came to London. Nick’s number flashed on the screen, summoning a feeling of impending doom.
I sat up straight and slid my thumb across the screen, rubbing the sleep for my eyes even though my heart pounded in my chest. The reason behind Nick’s call at three thirty-five in the morning was obvious.
“Ty just called,” he sighed. “Adrian’s dead. He overdosed.”
I glanced over my shoulder to Nadia, hoping to find her asleep, but her eyes were wide open, face pale. She gritted her teeth, fisting the sheets as if doing whatever she could not to lose it.
“I’ll call you in the morning.” I cut the call.
“Adrian’s dead?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as if her throat closed tight and it was a struggle for her to speak.
I switched the night lamp on and rested against the headboard, pulling Nadia into my arms. My muscles were tense as I braced for tears and screams, but Nadia just cuddled into me, pressing her cheek against my chest as if the rhythm of my heart could keep her grounded.
“He overdosed,” I said, kissing her head.
I expected her to fall apart the moment I confirmed, but nothing happened. Her behaviour didn’t change; she didn’t cry or scream; she didn’t acknowledge the news in any way.
I wrapped my arms tightly around, my mind racing. She didn’t move or speak for over an hour. I gave her time to process, and react, but when she moved away from me close to five in the morning, she gave me nothing: no tears, no words. She got out of bed and locked herself in the master bathroom, then turned on the faucet to fill the bath.
My head banged on the headboard, blood in my veins thick and cold, worry like parasites infesting my stomach.
She’s in shock.She’ll be okay.
I slipped a pair of tracksuit bottoms on and made my way downstairs. I sat in the kitchen, drinking one espresso after another while Nadia was taking a long bath.
Time ticked slowly. Each second stretched like a balloon. Each filled with the images of Nadia—broken and fragile. That was what I expected to see once she would join me downstairs.
I fucking hoped to see her in tears or at least angry. Something,anything, really. A reaction different from calm indifference.
It wasn’t natural, especially not for Nadia, who cared about people more than they deserved to be cared about. In the face of all Adrian had done to her, she should have danced around the room, but I knew that would never happen. She cared about Adrian regardless of the pain and humiliation. She cared because she saw good where there was none.
I rang Nick, brewing another espresso.
“Have you told her?” he asked, answering within seconds. “How is she doing?”
“She’s in shock, I think… or in denial. What did Ty say?”
Nick let out a long sigh. “Not much, just that he found Adrian at his apartment. He called the ambulance, but there was nothing they could do at that point. He was dead for a few hours already.”
Just then, Nadia appeared in the doorway wearing a baggy sweater, her hair combed back, face pale but still no tears.
“Nadia’s up. I’ll speak to you later.”
“Yeah, okay. Let me know how she’s doing.”