Chapter 13:

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The ringtone cut through the room. Not his default tone, not a generic buzz. This was the one he’d assigned specifically to Nyx: a soft chime, almost musical, a sound meant to evoke wind or bells or delicate things.

Stellan’s jaw clenched. He rejected the call.

It rang again.

He looked at me. His eyes had that particular shine they got when he was about to ask for permission to do the thing he was going to do regardless.

“Iris, I’m afraid she might need me…”

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket over my shoulder.

Nyx’s voice spilled out of the speaker, thin and trembling.

“Stellan, can you come see me? I feel terrible. My heart is racing so fast, I feel like I’m going to…”

“I’m so, so sorry. I always bother you, but you know my parents are abroad and my only close people are you and Lewin… Lewin isn’t answering my call, and I’m scared of dying alone…”

Same script. Different Tuesday.

𝖥iոd 𝗻о𝘷𝘦𝗅 P𝘋𝖥ѕ оո 𝗴alո𝗼𝘷el𝘴.𝗰о𝘮

Her ailments arrived on schedule, like a subscription she’d never cancelled. A racing heart when she needed company. A fever when attention drifted elsewhere. Symptoms that materialized at the precise hour they’d be most inconvenient for someone other than herself.

I braced for the sound of his footsteps toward the door. I was already planning what I’d tell Dagny in the morning, how I’d frame this final confirmation that Stellan would always choose Nyx.

But the footsteps didn’t come.

“Nyx, I’m with Iris. If you need something, call 120 and don’t bother me anymore.”

He hung up. The silence afterward was enormous.

Then he turned toward me, and his face held the expression of a child presenting a drawing to a parent, desperate for praise.

“Iris, did you hear that? I won’t leave you alone. Relax and recover well, okay?”

A year ago, six months ago, even three weeks ago, this would have mattered. I would have replayed those words before falling asleep. I might have wept with relief.

Now all I felt was the specific cruelty of receiving the thing you wanted after you’d stopped wanting it.

“Stellan, look.”

“You knew how to treat someone well.”

“You knew how to make me feel special, how to dispel my doubts.”

“But you never wanted to do it.”

I faced the wall.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call security right now.”

In the small mirror mounted above the sink across the room, I caught his reflection. The hope draining from his features was slow, like watching a candle burn down to the wick.

“Iris, won’t you forgive me yet, even though I’m trying so hard to take care of you?”

“I know I’ve made mistakes, but now I’ve realized that I only love you. What I feel for Nyx has simply been a bad habit.”

Love. He said it like people say “sorry” at funerals: automatically, because the situation demands it, not because the word means anything.

I started laughing. It came from somewhere low in my chest, and once it started I couldn’t stop it. My shoulders shook. My eyes burned. The laughter turned ragged, then wet, and by the end I wasn’t sure which sounds were laughter and which were grief.

Stellan stood frozen. He didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t understand any of it.

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