Chapter 222.

"Kylie!"

Emilia barely had time to grab her handbag before Kylie disappeared through the penthouse door.

"Kylie, wait!"

She hurried after her, her slippers slapping against the polished floor as the elevator doors began to close.

Kylie pressed the button for the ground floor.

Emilia squeezed through the narrowing gap just in time.

"Thank God."

Kylie didn’t look at her. "Go back upstairs."

"No."

"Emilia."

"No, Kylie."

Kylie shut her eyes briefly. "Please don’t do this."

"Do what? Follow my best friend when she’s clearly hurting?"

"I’m not hurting." The words came out too quickly.

Emilia stared at her.

Kylie kept her eyes on the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors.

"See? That’s the problem with you," Emilia muttered. "You always think you have to convince everyone you’re fine before you’re allowed to fall apart."

"And that’s the problem with you. You think because we’re friends, you have the right to decide when I fall apart."

Emilia went quiet.

Kylie immediately regretted saying it.

She could see the hurt flicker across Emilia’s face, and for one dreadful second, she wanted to take it back. She wanted to turn around, pull her best friend into her arms, and apologize for making her feel as though she had done something wrong.

But if she did that, Emilia would hug her. And if Emilia hugged her, she might cry. If she cried, she might not stop.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart in an elevator.

Not when her name was probably being dragged through the internet.

Not when she could still hear Christian asking for eighteen more hours.

Eighteen hours.

As if the world had agreed to pause its cruelty until he could find a way to make it acceptable for her to exist beside him.

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened.

Kylie stepped out.

Emilia followed. "You’re not driving alone."

Kylie let out a short, disbelieving breath. "Excuse me?"

"I’m coming with you."

"No, you’re not."

"Then I’ll get an Uber and follow you."

"Emilia."

"Try me."

Kylie turned.

They were standing in the middle of the lobby, and a man near the reception desk had just lifted his head from his phone.

Kylie noticed.

She could already imagine what would happen if someone recognized her.

That’s her. The girl from the article.

Christian Sinclair’s mistress.

Kylie turned away from Emilia and walked faster. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

"Gladly."

"I mean it. Don’t talk to me."

"That might be difficult considering I’m walking right behind you."

They reached the parking garage.

Her car sat in its designated space. She had barely driven for a while now. She had barely needed anything since moving into Christian’s penthouse.

Everything she could possibly want had been there.

Her clothes, her books, and her laptop. Grapes in the refrigerator because Christian had remembered she liked them.

She hated that her mind had chosen this moment to remember the grapes.

It was such a small thing. Such a stupid, insignificant thing.

But that was the trouble with being hurt by someone you loved. The pain never stayed neatly inside the moment that caused it. It wandered into every memory you had ever made with them and began ruining things you hadn’t even realized you were trying to keep.

Kylie unlocked the car.

"Where are you going?" Emilia asked.

"Home."

Kylie opened the boot. She lifted her suitcase and placed it inside.

Emilia stared at her. "Kylie, don’t be ridiculous."

Kylie shut the boot. "Then stop following me."

"I’m not leaving you like this."

"Like what?"

"You’re trying to punish yourself because a bunch of strangers decided they know you."

Kylie looked at her. "That’s not what I’m doing."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Going home!" She snapped.

Her voice echoed through the parking garage.

They both fell silent.

Kylie looked away first. She hated shouting.

No, that wasn’t true.

She hated the way shouting made people look at her.

The way their expressions changed, as if her raised voice proved something they had always suspected.

She had spent years being told she was too loud, too emotional, and too dramatic. She had learned to laugh at herself before someone else could do it.

She had learned to turn her feelings into jokes, to make her hurt entertaining enough that nobody would ask what had caused it.

She had become very good at making people laugh. She had become even better at pretending laughter meant she wasn’t hurting.

And now she couldn’t bring herself to do either.

Emilia stepped closer. "Kylie, listen to me."

"No."

"Please."

"I said no."

"Ignore everyone. You are so unique, and Christian loves you."

Kylie’s face changed. It was small, almost imperceptible, but Emilia saw it.

She saw the way Kylie’s eyes briefly lost their coldness, revealing something raw beneath them.

Then the walls came back up.

"Then he should have loved me enough to trust me." She said between her teeth.

Emilia swallowed. "He was trying to protect you."

"I didn’t ask him to."

Kylie shook her head.

"None of you understand. You keep telling me what he meant to do, what he was going to do, what he needs more time to do. And I’m supposed to stand there and wait while everyone else decides what happens to me."

"That’s not what—"

Kylie cut her off. "He knew this would hurt me. He knew people would say horrible things. He knew his mother didn’t want me around. He knew all of it, Emilia."

Her voice dropped.

"And he still thought the best thing to do was fall in love with me. He has a fianceé, Emilia."

Emilia looked down.

Kylie let out a shaky breath. "I don’t need another person deciding what’s best for me."

Emilia’s eyes shone.

Kylie looked at her best friend and felt a sharp, unwelcome ache.

Emilia had done nothing wrong.

She knew that.

Emilia had been the one who held her hand through the worst moments of her childhood. The one who sat beside her when she couldn’t explain why certain words made her feel small.

The one who knew that behind her jokes and loud laughter lived a girl who sometimes needed to be told she wasn’t difficult to be around.

Kylie couldn’t let her close enough to see that girl today. Not when she could barely stand to look at herself.

"Please go back," Kylie whispered.

Emilia shook her head.

"Emilia."

"No. You can scream at me. I’ll be here. You can ignore me. You can tell me you hate me. But I’m not leaving you alone when you’re like this."

Kylie stared at her. For a moment, something almost tender passed between them.

Kylie reached for the driver’s door. "Get in, then."

Emilia blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

She unlocked the passenger door.

Emilia hurried around the car before Kylie could change her mind.

For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke.

Kylie drove with both hands on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the road. Emilia sat beside her, watching the familiar streets pass by.

Kylie tightened her fingers around the steering wheel.

"You’re holding it too tightly," Emilia said quietly.

Kylie glanced at her hands. Her knuckles had gone pale. She loosened her grip. "Sorry."

"You don’t have to apologize."

Kylie didn’t answer.

Emilia waited. After a while, she asked, "Have you eaten anything?"

"No."

"Do you want to stop somewhere?"

"No."

"Coffee?"

"No."

"Tea?"

Kylie shot her a look.

Emilia pressed her lips together. "I don’t know what else to do."

The admission was so quiet that Kylie almost missed it. Her eyes flickered toward Emilia. For a moment, she saw the fear in her friend’s face.

Kylie looked back at the road. "You don’t have to do anything."