Falling In Love With You

Chapter 16

Sera

The elevator ride up to my penthouse felt like a journey to a different planet. Every floor I rose, the pressure of my "real" life seemed to squeeze harder against my chest. But now, there was something new—a sharp, stinging heat radiating from my left side that reminded me I wasn't the same person who had left this building ten hours ago.

I let myself in, the silence of the apartment feeling deafening. I didn't turn on the lights. I walked straight to the master bathroom, my movements stiff.

Standing before the mirror, I slowly unbuttoned my silk blouse. It was ruined—black ink and green soap had bled into the fabric, a permanent stain on a garment that cost more than some people's monthly rent. I didn't care. I tossed it onto the marble floor and carefully peeled back the plastic wrap Kayla had taped to my skin.

I hissed as the air hit the raw area. The tattoo was angry and red, the lines bold against my pale skin.

Everything is permanent. Choose wisely.

Her voice echoed in my head, as clear as if she were standing behind me. I touched the skin just an inch away from the design, my fingers trembling. I could still feel the phantom weight of her hand on my hip, pinning me down, holding me steady while she carved a new version of me into existence.

"What have I done?" I whispered.

But I wasn't asking out of regret. I was asking out of fear for the woman I was becoming.

I cleaned the area exactly as she’d instructed, my movements clinical. I could hear her blunt, rasping directions: Non-scented soap. Pat it dry. Don't pick at it, or I'll come to your office and finish what the needle started. I almost smiled at the memory of her scowl. She was so aggressive, so protective of her art, and yet, for a split second when she tucked that hair behind my ear, she had been... human.

My phone chimed on the vanity. I picked it up, expecting a work email. Instead, it was a photo from Joanna. It was a shot from Friday night—me at the bar, looking defiant, with the dark silhouette of Kayla looming in the foreground.

JOANNA: The tension in this photo is enough to power the city grid, Sera. Talk to me. What happened today? I know you didn't go back to the office.

I deleted the message without replying. I wasn't ready to share this. Not with Joanna, and certainly not with the world that expected me to be the perfect girl.

I pulled on a soft, oversized silk robe, the fabric cool against the bandage. I walked to the window, looking out at the glittering lights of my environment.

Somewhere down there, in a basement that smelled of ink and old secrets, Kayla was probably cleaning her needles, thinking I was just another rich girl with a weekend scar.

She didn't know that she’d given me the only honest thing I possessed.

I lay down in bed, curled on my right side to protect the wound on my left. As I drifted off, the last thing I felt wasn't the pain of the tattoo, but the memory of those amber eyes looking at me—not as a McBurry, not as a "Princess," but as a woman who was finally starting to break the bars.