Just for you

Chapter Ten

Joanna’s pov

The sharp, metallic screech of an electric saw echoed off the bare concrete walls, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Miss Joanna, over here for a second!"

I turned around, stepping over scattered wooden planks, acrylic dust extractors, and coils of wiring on the floor. Two contractors in high-visibility vests were standing near the front of the unit, holding up a large framed mockup of the manicurist stations and polish display shelves I had custom-designed for the main wall.

"If we anchor the brass frames here along the brickwork for the polish racks, we’ll need to adjust the overhead spotlight track by a few inches," the lead engineer explained, pointing toward the ceiling. "Do you want the warm ambient lighting focused directly on the individual nail stations, or should we flood the whole entry and reception area?"

I crossed my arms over my dark coat, taking a step back to inspect the layout. For the past two weeks, this bare retail space in central London had been my only sanctuary. Pouring my energy into constructing my dream nail salon—setting up custom pedicure thrones, sleek acrylic stations, and luxury lighting—was the only thing keeping my mind from completely fracturing under the weight of Favour’s betrayal.

"Focus the warm lighting directly over each nail desk and the polish display," I directed, keeping my voice firm, clear, and professional. "Clients need clear, precise light for intricate nail art, but we still want a high-end, cozy feel the moment they step through the door. And make sure the brass polish racks sit flush against the exposed brick—no visible gaps."

"Understood. We’ll get the anchors set right now," the engineer nodded, waving his partner over to begin measuring the wall.

I took a slow step back to give them space to work, my shoulder lightly brushing against a large, floor-to-ceiling reflective glass panel leaning against a structural pillar—part of the full-length mirror setup for the salon’s aesthetic area.

I paused, catching a sudden glimpse of my movement in the glass.

I turned my head slightly, staring at my reflection under the harsh, unforgiving glare of the site's temporary construction lights.

The woman looking back at me looked completely exhausted.

My dark brown eyes—usually bright, sharp, and full of life—were heavy, dull, and noticeably swollen. The skin around my eyelids was puffy and dark, a stark, painful testament to two full weeks of alternating, uncontrollable crying spells. Every night for fourteen days, the second I locked my bedroom door and sank into bed, the floodgates would burst open. I would weep until my throat burned, dry my eyes, stare at the ceiling in numb silence for hours, and then break down all over again until dawn crept through my window blinds.

During the day, I wore a mask—smiling for Nathan, chatting casually with Melody, and barking orders at contractors to make it look like I was completely fine and focused on opening my nail business. But here, caught unawares in the glass, the truth was unyielding.

Favour had walked away into the dark, back to his comfortable life, while I was left wearing the physical marks of a broken heart.

I reached up, my fingertips lightly brushing the tender skin beneath my eye.

"No more," I whispered softly to the glass, my jaw setting tight as a sudden, cold wave of resolve washed over the pain.

He didn't deserve another tear. He didn't deserve another night of my grief. I took a deep breath, pulled my shoulders back, turned my back on the reflection, and walked right back toward the contractors.

Jonathan’s POV

I sat at the kitchen island, leaning my heavy forearms on the marble countertop as I nursed a steaming mug of black coffee. Across from me, Melody moved around the kitchen with her usual quiet grace, sliding a plate of freshly toasted bread toward me before leaning against the counter.

"Babe," Melody said softly, her green eyes fixing on mine with that calm, sharp focus that always meant she had noticed something I’d missed. "Have you really looked at your sister lately?"

I paused, my coffee mug halfway to my lips. "Joanna? Yeah, of course. She’s been at the salon site every day driving those contractors crazy. Why?"

Melody folded her arms, shaking her head gently. "She’s wearing a mask, babe. On the outside, she’s smiling, talking about wall tiles and polish racks, but... she’s not okay. For two weeks now, every morning she comes downstairs, her eyes are heavy and swollen. She tries to cover it up, but she’s been crying herself to sleep every single night."

My jaw tightened, a cold wave of concern instantly replacing the warmth of the coffee.

"Swollen eyes?" I repeated, my voice dropping into a low, protective register. "She hasn't said a word to me. I thought she was just exhausted from setting up the shop."

"It’s not work exhaustion," Melody murmured, her voice steady and perceptive. "She’s carrying a heavy heart. You know how resilient Joanna is—she won't admit when she's hurting. But something is deeply wrong."

Melody turned back toward the sink, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared down at the marble counter, my mind racing back over the last two weeks. Favour had promised me he would find a way to clear the air with Joanna—to address whatever unresolved tension had been lingering between them since their younger days so everyone could move on.

Did Favour actually talk to her? I thought, my chest tightening. Did he reach out to her two weeks ago and say something that completely wrecked her?

The mere thought of Joanna weeping alone in her room made a dark, protective rage bubble up in my chest. If my best friend had reopened old wounds or handled things carelessly with my little sister, I needed to know immediately.

I grabbed my phone off the counter, tapped Favour’s contact, and hit dial. I put the phone to my ear, listening to the long, heavy rings while pacing the kitchen floor. On the third ring of my second attempt, the line clicked open.

"Yo, Nathan," Favour’s voice came through, forced and overly bright, clearly trying to sound casual. "What's good, man? Sorry I missed the first ring, was just getting some site paperwork together."

I didn't bother with small talk, pacing the length of the kitchen island while Melody quietly cleared the breakfast plates behind me. "Favour. Did you ever speak to Joanna?"

A sharp beat of absolute silence hit the other end of the line. Favour’s breathing slowed down, the forced cheerfulness instantly evaporating.

"Yeah," Favour admitted, his voice dropping into a tight, cautious hum. "Yeah, I spoke to her."

"How did she take it?" I asked, my grip tightening on the phone. "Because she’s been walking around here like a ghost for two weeks. Melody says she’s been crying herself to sleep every single night. What did you say to my sister, Favour?"

Favour let out a long, heavy exhale that crackled through the speaker. He hesitated, sounding distantly rattled before forcing out a quiet response. "Look, Nathan... I’m not really sure how she took it all. But what I do know is that she won't be contacting me anymore. It’s settled."

Before I could even process the cold, final edge in his tone to ask what "settled" actually meant, Favour cut in quickly.

"Listen, man, I’ve got site managers waiting on me. Got a ton of work to get through today, so I’ve gotta go."

"Favour, wait—"

Click.

The line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the black screen in disbelief as a dark, dangerous knot formed in my stomach.

I shoved my phone into my pocket, grabbed my coat, and headed straight up to Joanna's bedroom. I pushed open her door without knocking, my heart pounding in my ears.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. Joanna was curled up on her side in the center of her bed, still wearing her dark coat from the salon. She was fast asleep, wrapped tightly in her duvet like a shield, her face pale against the grey sheets.

"Joanna," I said, my voice low and unyielding.

She stirred, letting out a soft, heavy sigh before her eyes fluttered open. The second the light caught her face, my stomach dropped. Even in the shadows, her eyelids were swollen and inflamed, her dark skin dull from weeks of hidden tears.

"Nathan?" she murmured, her voice raspy from sleep as she pulled the duvet higher up her chest. "What's wrong? What time is it?"

"Get up," I demanded, stepping closer to the edge of the bed and crossing my heavy arms over my chest. "We need to talk. Right now."

Joanna blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she pushed herself up onto one elbow, shielding her eyes with her hand. "Talk about what? Nathan, I just got back from the shop, I'm exhausted—"

"I just spoke to Favour," I cut in, the name hanging heavy in the quiet space between us.

Joanna froze. Every drop of color drained from her face, her breath hitching sharply in her throat. Her eyes widened, losing every trace of sleepiness in a fraction of a second.

"I called him," I continued, keeping my eyes locked on hers, watching the terror ripple across her features. "He told me he spoke to you two weeks ago. He said whatever was between you two is 'settled' and that you won't be contacting him anymore. What did Favour say to you, Joanna? Why have you been crying yourself to sleep every night? Tell me what he did."

Joanna stared at me, her chest heaving as tears welled in her swollen eyes before spilling over her pale cheeks.

"Is that what he told you?!" she cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of utter heartbreak. "That he spoke to me and it’s 'settled'? He’s a liar, Nathan! He texted me that night begging to see me! He dragged me out to that stupid playground at midnight, weeping and panicking, only to tell me to my face that everything between us was a mistake!"

I stood frozen, my blood running cold as her words echoed in the dim room.

"Did you ask him to do that?!" Joanna sobbed, digging her hands into her duvet as tears streamed down her face. "Did you go behind my back and tell Favour to throw me away like trash? Because I’m dying inside, Nathan! I can’t breathe... I literally cannot breathe without Favour in my life!"

Her confession hit me like a physical blow. The raw, desperate anguish in her voice shattered the quiet room, but as her words settled, my protective concern instantly hardened into sharp, disbelief-ridden anger.

I stared down at my sister, my posture rigid as my hands balled into tight fists at my sides.

"Are you serious right now, Joanna?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a low, thunderous register. "You can't breathe without him? You were fine seven years ago when you two broke up in high school! You lived your life, you moved on, you survived seven whole years without Favour in your world! So why the hell are you sitting here suffering like this over a married man now?!"

A loud, bitter laugh tore from Joanna’s throat, sharp enough to cut through the heavy silence of the room.

"I was fine seven years ago?!" she screamed, pushing the duvet off her legs and swinging her feet onto the floor. "You think I was fine, Nathan? That’s a complete lie! Go and ask Mom! Call her right now and ask her how I was!"

I flinched back a step, stunned by the sheer fury radiating off her as fresh tears rained down her face.

"For five whole years after we broke up, I called Favour every single day!" she sobbed, her whole body trembling as she pointed a shaking finger straight at my chest. "Five years, Nathan! Day and night, begging him to talk to me, crying into my pillow until I couldn't breathe! I drove him so crazy with my obsession that he had to change his entire phone number just to get away from me!"

She stood up, her chest heaving as she faced me down in the dim light of the bedroom.

"I was never fine!" she cried out, her voice breaking into a ragged whisper. "I just learned how to hide it from you! I forced myself to pretend so you wouldn't look at me like I was insane! And the second he reached out to me again, every single thing I tried to bury came rushing right back. So don't you dare stand there and tell me I was okay, because I have been drowning for seven years!"

I stood frozen, my head spinning as her shattered confession echoed off the walls. I tried to pull her back from the edge.

"Joanna, stop it," I commanded, my voice dropping into a stern, unyielding growl. "You need to forget Favour right now. Just put him out of your head! You can't sit here acting this crazy and ruining your life over a stupid, drunken phone call eight months ago!"

Joanna’s face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated anguish. She took a sharp step toward me, her swollen eyes wide, wild, and spilling over with scalding tears.

"You think it was just a call?!" she screamed, her voice tearing at her throat. "You really think that's all that happened that night?!"

Before I could even open my mouth to demand what she meant, Joanna shoved past my shoulder, her body trembling violently. She tore the bedroom door open and ran out into the hallway, her ragged sobs echoing down the stairs before the heavy wooden front door slammed shut behind her.

I stood completely alone in the quiet darkness of her room, my chest heaving and my mind racing in total shock.

It wasn't only the call?

My jaw locked tight as a sickening, terrible knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Favour had sworn to me that nothing else had happened. He had sworn it was just a brief conversation to settle old high school tension.

I turned and stormed down the stairs, my boots heavy against the floorboards. Melody was standing near the front entry, her eyes wide with alarm after watching Joanna sprint out into the cold evening air.

"Nathan, what happened?" Melody asked, reaching out a hand to touch my arm. "She was crying so hard—"

"I need to find out what Favour did," I snapped, pulling my jacket off the rack. My pulse was hammering against my neck, a dark, dangerous rage overriding every ounce of logic I had left.

If my best friend had lied to my face, if he had taken advantage of my sister's fragile, obsessive heart and then thrown her away to save his own skin, I wasn't just going to ask questions anymore.

I grabbed my car keys off the table, shoved the front door open, and stepped out into the night, determined to get the full truth—no matter who it destroyed.