Page 65 of Broken Desires
A flush of embarrassment warms my cheeks at his blunt description. “I’m not emo,” I counter defensively, even as I internally acknowledge the truth in his words.
He snorts. “You were totally emo! Takes one to know one.”
Reluctantly, I concede on one point. “And Chris Isaac is epic,” I admit under my breath, acknowledging my repetitive indulgence in “Wicked Game” as a coping mechanism.
Henrick dismisses my mood shift with a wave. “And now she’s gone, and you’re acting like everything’s fine.”
My pen taps rhythmically against the desk as I consider how much to reveal. The plan that emerged from my introspective session last night feels both desperate and hopeful, a strange concoction of emotions that I’m not fully prepared to articulate, even to myself.
My restlessness grows as I try to piece together my thoughts aloud. “Because it just doesn’t add up. Vanessa’s not one to back down from a challenge. She’s a fighter through and through. And for a moment, I doubted that—thought she left because it was too difficult. But that’s not her. She wants this, us—I believe that,” I assert, clinging to a sliver of hope amid my uncertainty.
Henrick’s question cuts straight to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t she stay then?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit, the mystery a gaping hole in my understanding. “But what I do know is that she’s always stood her ground. If she’s stepping back now, it’s not without reason. Maybe she believes it’s what I need… that we need to fight for this, to prove it’s possible against all odds. If she left…” My voice trails off, the logic sounding thinner the more I speak it aloud.
“It’s for you,” Henrick suggests, piecing the puzzle together faster than I am. “I saw her talking to Hank and…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to.
The mention of Hank sends a ripple of realization through me. “For me?” The idea that Vanessa’s departure might have been influenced by a conversation with Hank, of all people, reshapes everything. My frustration boils over—not just at Hank for potentially meddling but at myself for not seeing the signs, for not understanding sooner that Vanessa’s decision could stem from a place of deep love, not a lack of it.
The thought that she might sacrifice her own happiness for what she perceives as my benefit ignites feelings of anger and determination inside me. If Hank has indeed swayed her decision, then it’s up to me to rectify this misunderstanding, to fight for our chance at happiness together. Vanessa’s actions, seen through this new lens, speak volumes of her love and dedication—a love I’m now more determined than ever to honor by standing up for what we both truly want.
“She’s in the habit of thinking she’s not good enough—lies that have been force-fed by her shitty parents. She is more than enough, and I’m ready to make her—and everyone else—see that.” I nod, and a totally crazy plan starts to form in my head. “I’m going to call Hank in here.”
Henrick’s interest peaks, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, are we going to fire him? Can I film it?”
I dismiss the idea with a wave of my hand. “No, I’m going to give him what he’s been after. I’ve been dodging his requests for a candid interview about my new role as king,” I explain, using air quotes to emphasize the expected lack of spontaneity in such an interview.
Henrick looks puzzled. “And how does giving in to something he wants help us?”
I lean forward, my plan taking shape. “Because I’ll insist the interview be live. No edits, no scripts. Just the truth.”
“King Alexander unplugged, huh?” Henrick says, barely containing his amusement.
A genuine smile breaks through my concern. “Exactly. Something like that.”
The idea of going live, of using this platform to not only address the misconceptions but also to openly declare my feelings and intentions feels like the bold move we need. It’s a chance to take control of the narrative, to show the world—and Vanessa—the depth of my commitment. I’m gearing up for whatever comes our way. So, Nessa, get ready. Things are about to get interesting.
Chapter 22
Nessa
The weight of their stares is almost too much to bear. No one’s saying anything about my decision to go home for good, but the silent exchanges among them speak volumes. Even the guys are glancing my way, their curiosity mixed with something I can’t quite place. It reminds me of that uneasy feeling of returning to school after being out sick when everyone looks at you like you’re some kind of a spectacle.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore it all for the last few hours, but their silent, pressing questions aren’t letting up. I realize there’s no way I’ll make it through the flight back without addressing it. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to break the silence before their unspoken queries drive me to the edge.
Resigning myself to confront the situation head-on, I focus on Eva, the one I’ve always found easiest to talk to. “What is it?” I finally ask, breaking the tense silence that has enveloped us.
Eva hesitates, her concern evident as she bites her lip. “I’m just… surprised by your decision. We all thought you were going to stay,” she admits with a hint of sadness.
Poppy jumps in, echoing Eva’s sentiment. “We all did,” she says, and I can feel the collective weight of their stares, making the air around me feel thick and heavy.
I shake my head, trying to clear the tension. “It was never going to work,” I state, more to convince myself than them.
“But why not?” The question hangs in the air, a silent plea for a better explanation.
I let out a sarcastic chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, though my heart isn’t in it. “It’s not a Cinderella story,” I retort, the bitterness in my voice surprising even me.
Their looks of concern deepen, their confusion and disappointment mingling in the air. It’s clear they’re struggling to understand my decision just as much as I’m struggling to justify it to myself.