My eyes burned red. In the end I couldn't breathe, and all I could do was claw at the fabric over my chest, trying to make the pain ease up even a little.
There were only two things I had left in the world—William, and the seeds my parents left behind.
If either one ceased to exist, the pain would be more than I could survive.
I should have stepped out and confronted them right there. I knew that. But I had nothing left in me.
I could accept betrayal from anyone. Why did it have to be William?
I didn't even have the courage to confront him.
Born in the same delivery room, pulled into the world by the same doctor's hands. William, who had been by my side for as long as I could remember.
Why did it have to be him?
I pulled a slip of paper from my pocket, something I always carried with me, and stared at the faded writing.
My tears soaked through it.
The pain swallowed me whole, like it meant to consume every last part of me.
I crammed the paper into my mouth and forced it down, like swallowing every poisoned thing loving him had ever grown inside me.
Tears kept spilling, but when the call connected my voice came out without a single tremor. "I'll give you what you want. You help me with one thing. Can you do that?"
The person on the other end agreed without hesitation.
William was already at the dining table eating breakfast when I walked back into the villa.
He looked up at me in the doorway, frowned slightly, rose, and came over to tuck my hair back from my face—proprietary, automatic, the way he'd done it for decades. "What happened? Where were you last night? You didn't answer your phone. I was worried about you, Junie." He cupped my face in both hands, gentle as ever, warm as ever. "Something going on? Need me to help? Hm? We don't keep secrets from each other, Junie."
But this face—the same face I'd looked at for all those years—now all it gave me was nausea. I tilted my head and pulled his hands off me.
The rejection displeased him, though he didn't let it show much.
"I missed my parents," I said. "I went to visit their graves."
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and murmured, "After all these years, still the same as before? Junie, when are you going to let yourself stop missing them?" His composure was flawless, as though last night's conversation had never happened.
Then he said, abruptly, "Oh, there's something I need to tell you."