“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I…you…you barely slept last night.” My lips tremble. “Right?”

His expression is unreadable, and I expect him to confirm that I’m insane, but he loosens his hold on my throat. “Right.”

Right. I didn’t make that up. He did sleep beside me. He wasn’t disgusted with me to the point he didn’t want to touch me.

Does that mean I didn’t make up those voices either?

“Come on.” He takes me by the wrist so as not to hurt my palm. “Let me help with the shower so you can get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

A long breath leaves me. Not because he’s giving me back my freedom — because, in a way, I knew Jonathan would keep his word — but because of the fact that he didn’t bring up the part where he thinks I’m crazy.

But then he stares at me over his shoulder and gives me that look again.

The pity.

The disappointment.

He…he’s going to get rid of me, isn’t he?

Just like Alicia.

 

 

13

 

 

Aurora

 

 

Even though I go to work, I can’t concentrate.

All I keep thinking about is those voices grating on my nerves and whispering things like:

She’s losing her mind, just like Alicia.

What makes it worse is the way Jonathan looked at me. And then he didn’t attempt to touch me during my shower today. His movements were anything but sexual with the sole purpose of helping me bathe.

Usually, his hands wander all over my body and he demands I beg him to finger me or bring me to orgasm.

Not today. He had no interest in me, even when I stood fully naked in front of him. I pretend that doesn’t slice through me and leave a wound worse than the ones covering my body.

Being the sole focus of his touch just to lose it all of a sudden is harsher than I ever thought.

After the shower, he helped me dress, then disappeared.

Just like that. No words. No orders for later per his usual.

Just…nothing.

The coldness I felt when he walked out the door was like being shoved into a freezer and locked inside.

Is that what he also did with Alicia when she started losing her mind?

Not that I am. I’m not.

Though coming all the way here to prove my theory is probably pushing it.

I went to my old building during my lunch break, where Paul insisted that there was no package and he didn’t see me on that day. Shelby, my grumpy neighbour, wasn’t there for me to hold him witness. When I asked Paul where he was, he said he was having trouble with the law and was solving it at the police station.

Then, after I left, a scary thought assaulted me. What if the attack with Sarah never happened? I mean, how would she know where I lived, even if she saw me in that charity event?

Did she see me? Was she there or did I make her up?

All those thoughts have been throwing me for a loop. I feel like I exist outside of my body, and I can’t find a way to go back in.

Except for this stupid, irrational action.

I’m standing in front of Aiden and Elsa’s house in Oxford, hand gripping my watch. Elsa sent me the address when I last saw her in an attempt to invite me to dinner. I’ve always refused because Aiden seems like he wants to chop my head off.

Today, I drove the whole way here. And although I spent almost two hours on the road, I still haven’t exactly managed to gather my thoughts.

The rain pours as if the sky is revolting against the world. The dusk has come and gone, and the early evening adds to the gloominess of the heavy downpour.

I’m soaked in seconds during the small trip from my car to the front door. My hair sticks to my temples and water forms rivulets down my face.

When I came up with this idea, my only angle was that, aside from Jonathan, Aiden knew Alicia the best. He would’ve noticed if there was something amiss with his mother.

I press the doorbell with hesitant fingers as doubts creep in, the most prominent of all being that Aiden doesn’t like me. Why would he talk about Alicia in front of me when he thinks I’m an impostor?

This was a bad idea, after all. If I leave now, they’ll probably chalk up the ringing bell to a child’s prank.

Before I can run away, the door opens. Elsa appears on the threshold wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. Her long hair is held up in a neat ponytail and her face is soft and beautiful, even without an ounce of makeup. Upon seeing me, her lips widen in a gorgeous smile.

“Aurora! What a lovely surprise.” She wraps her arms around me in a hug, uncaring about the fact that I’m soaked.

“I’m sorry for coming without notice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re always welcome here.” She ushers me inside. “Come in. The rain got you.”

“Thank you.” I remain in the entrance so that I don’t drip all over the shiny wooden flooring.

Their house is nothing like the King mansion. It’s smaller, homier, and has elegant but personal decor, like the small house figurines and the painting of Aiden and Elsa on their wedding day. Astrid must’ve done it — it has her special, unconventional touch.

The size and the feel of the house makes me wonder if Aiden wanted to exchange the big, empty, and cold King mansion with a place that he considers home. A place where he can start anew with Elsa.

“Why are you standing there?” Elsa motions behind her. “Come inside.”

“I’m good here.” I clear my throat. “Is Aiden around?”

“Yeah, he —”

“Sweetheart?” His voice filters in from the top of the stairs. “What did I say about opening the door? I’m the only one who does it. No one gets to look at you in those tiny clothes.”

“There he is.” Elsa shakes her head and whispers, “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” A small smile grazes my lips, remembering how Jonathan acted this morning in front of Ethan.

Like father, like son.

My smile falls when Aiden joins his wife and watches me with a furrowed brow. Like her, he’s wearing cotton trousers and a simple white T-shirt. His black hair is tousled, and I can’t help staring at the small mole at the edge of his right eye — the only physical feature he inherited from Alicia.

He places an arm around Elsa’s waist and pulls her to his side, almost as if he wants to protect her from me. “What are you doing here?”

She elbows him. “Is that a way to treat our guest? She came all the way from London during this rain.”

“She’s not my guest.” He continues to study me, probably waiting for an answer to his question.

“I…I want to ask you something.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

Elsa pulls away from his hold, glaring him down, even though he’s way taller than her. She then takes my hand and leads me inside and seats me on the sofa, despite my attempt to protest.

By the time she brings a fluffy towel and wraps it around my shoulders, Aiden has followed after, his hands in his pockets. His grey eyes narrow on me as if I’m a liability he needs to get rid of.