Page 51 of Broken Desires
I can’t suppress a smile at the description. “Yes, I did. And I’ve wondered if my decision played a part in how things ended. But, Henrick, your argument didn’t cause Dad’s death, and my absence didn’t either. He was a great king, prioritizing his nation above all else, a choice that’s admirable from the outside but complicated from within.”
Henrick sits up straighter, intrigued. “Are you questioning Dad’s decisions?”
“Not questioning, just acknowledging that no one’s perfect. Not you, not me, and not Dad. We shouldn’t let guilt consume us. He knew we loved him as he loved us. I’ll make mistakes, but I’m doing my best. That’s all I ask of you too. Find your path and know I’ll support you every step of the way.”
“You’ve changed.”
“I have.” The transformation within me can largely be attributed to Vanessa Caldwell.
“I like this version of you.”
A smile finds its way across my face. “Is that because I’m yielding to your wishes?”
He lets out a snort, his familiar, playful grin returning. “Partly, but mostly, it’s because you’re actually listening.”
“I’ve learned from the best.” I reflect, marveling at how Vanessa, living in a world without sound, has been my greatest teacher in listening.
“Thank her for me next time you see her,” he suggests.
“And how did you figure out it’s a her?” I probe, amused.
“I may be young and reckless, but I’m neither blind nor foolish,” he quips with a dismissive shake of his head.
I laugh. “Fair enough, I’ll tell her.”
“What’s her name?” He asks just as I grab the door handle.
“Vanessa.” Just saying her name causes a crippling pain in her absence.
“It will cause havoc.”
“I’m aware,” I acknowledge.
“And does that bother you?”
I pause, offering him a contemplative smile. “I’m not quite sure.”
Chapter 17
Nessa
Imiss him.
It’s a tough pill to swallow, acknowledging it even to myself, but the truth is undeniable. Over the last six weeks, his absence has left a void, and I find myself longing for the connection we had, the way his gaze seemed to see right through me, and the undeniable sense of belonging when we were together.
Watching his father’s funeral online, witnessing him walk in solitary grief behind the casket, his family trailing a respectful distance behind, I saw the weight of the world on his shoulders. His stooped posture. The tight set of his jaw. It all spoke volumes of his pain. In that moment, my heart broke for him.
I almost texted him right then. He used to say we were friends as much as anything else. But him hiding who he really was—that’s one thing. Lying about being with someone else? That’s something else entirely.
Part of me can’t help but feel guilty, like I’m somehow the reason he’s not here. He was supposed to be one of Cole’s groomsmen, supposed to be walking down the aisle with me. I’d been secretly excited about it—getting all dressed up and having a blast with my closest friends. Now, Liam’s spot has been filled by one of Cole’s cousins. Cole and Eva keep saying it’s not about me and him but about keeping the wedding low-key because Liam’s the king of Denmark and all. Still, it stings.
I glance at the clock and sigh. Here I am, in Eva’s dad’s guest room, a place I’ve never stayed before. Funny how I used to struggle with mornings, but ever since Liam came into my life, I’ve been waking up early. And today, I’m up an hour before I even need to, all set to wake Eva in her old bedroom for her big day.
“Fake it till you make it,” I whisper under my breath, a mantra for the day ahead. Cole and Eva might already have tied the knot, but today’s celebration is about them, and despite the ache in my heart, I’m also filled with joy for my friends. I’m genuinely happy for their happiness, for the life I’m carving out here among people who care about me. Today, I’ll push aside my own hurt and focus on the joy and love that’s so evident around me.
With a deep breath to steel myself, I leave the guest room and head toward Eva’s childhood bedroom. The house is quiet, the kind of hush that precedes the joyful storm of a wedding day.
Gently knocking on Eva’s door, I ease it open to see her awake, cocooned in a sea of pillows on her bed. “Morning, Bridezilla,” I tease with a smile, aiming to lighten the mood.