Chapter 6
1180 Words
Leila’s POV
All week, it’s been the same thing.
Every day at noon, I take lunch to Adrian’s office. And every day, he keeps me waiting. Sometimes thirty minutes. Sometimes more than an hour.
The first few days I thought maybe he was just busy. But now I’m starting to think it’s not about work at all. It feels like he wants to remind me who’s in charge. And it works. I sit there, hands in my lap, pretending not to look at the clock while my stomach knots tighter.
By the time I get back to the gallery, I’ve lost so much time I have to stay late just to catch up.
Some nights, Mari stays with me, helping sort files or fix labels. We don’t talk much about it. But she knows. She can see it in my face.
When we finally leave, it’s dark outside, and I’m too tired to think. I fall into bed as soon as I get home. But then the alarm rings at five, and I’m up again, making breakfast so it’s ready by six.
I think I’m coming down with something. My head feels heavy most mornings, and sometimes I get dizzy if I stand up too fast. My throat aches a little too. But I don’t have time to really be sick.
At work, there’s an event we’re planning. It’s for smaller artists who usually don’t get a chance to show their work. It’s not going to bring in big money, but it matters. It feels real, like what art should be about.
I’ve been helping with the guest list, making flyers, and calling people to invite them.
By Friday, I feel like I’ve been running for a month without stopping.
Tomorrow, finally, I have a day off.
Not a real vacation. Just a day. But it feels like a small light at the end of this long week.
I’ve decided to see Eva. I haven’t been to Grandma’s in weeks. I miss her small hands on my face, her laugh that bubbles out of nowhere.
In the morning, I wake early anyway. Habit, I guess. My body feels heavy, but my heart feels lighter knowing I’ll see Eva.
I pack a small bag: a soft pink stuffed rabbit I saw in a shop window, and a coloring book with big, simple shapes she can color without help.
Before leaving, I cook dinner and leave it in the fridge for Adrian. Just something simple: chicken and rice, in case I come back too late.
I don’t know if he’ll care. But I do it anyway.
At noon, I take lunch to his office again. Like always, his assistant tells me, “He’s in a meeting.”
I sit. And wait.
Fifteen minutes. Thirty. Almost an hour.
My hands fidget in my lap. I keep glancing at the time, counting how long it’ll take to get to Grandma’s place.
When the meeting finally ends, he steps out without looking at me.
“Here’s your lunch,” I say softly, holding out the bag.
He doesn’t take it right away. His eyes flick over me, cold and unreadable. Then he takes the lunch and walks back into his office.
Outside, the sky looks pale and flat. The train is crowded, and I have to stand, holding the small gift bag close to my chest.
I text Grandma: I’m coming to see her today. Please don’t tell Eva until I’m there.
Okay, she writes back. She’ll be so happy.
Reading that makes me smile, even if it’s a tired smile.
Then I text Adrian“ I’ll be back late tonight, dinner is in the fridge”.
At some point, the movement of the train makes me sway. My head feels hot, and I wipe sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.
Don’t faint, I tell myself. Just get there.
Grandma’s house smells the same as always: warm, a little musty, full of old furniture and soft blankets.
When Eva sees me, her whole face lights up. She toddles over as fast as her small legs can go, arms up.
I kneel, ignoring the ache in my knee, and hug her close. Her cheek presses against my neck, and for a moment, everything else falls away.
“Look,” I say, showing her the rabbit. “For you.”
She grabs it with both hands, eyes wide. Then she makes a small happy noise, almost like a laugh.
We sit on the floor together. She flips through the coloring book, jabbering half-words. Grandma sits in her chair, watching us with a gentle smile.
For a little while, I forget the rules. I forget the waiting, the cold voice on the phone, the way my chest tightens every time I think of Adrian.
Just Eva, her small hands smudged with crayon, and me.
But time moves too fast. The sun starts to dip, turning the window glass orange.
Eva was still holding the little rabbit, sitting on the rug beside me. Her eyes blinked slowly, her head tipping forward.
Soon she curled up on my lap, breathing slow and soft.
I sat there a few more minutes, my hand gently brushing her hair, listening to her tiny breaths.
When she was fully asleep, I carefully lifted her, laid her down on the couch beside Grandma, and tucked the blanket around her.
For a moment, I just watched her small chest rise and fall.
“I’ll come back,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me.
Then I picked up my bag, gave Grandma a tired smile, and slipped out quietly into the evening.
The train ride back feels longer. My body aches all over, my head feels heavier than before.
At some point, I lean my forehead against the window, eyes half-closed.
I hope he won’t be angry, I think. But deep down, I know he probably will.
When I get off the train, the streets are busy. Neon signs blink, people hurry past with shopping bags, laughing and talking.
I walk slower than before. Every step feels like I’m dragging myself forward.
Back at the penthouse, I unlock the door and step inside.
The lights are off. The living room is empty.
For a second, I stand there, listening to the quiet hum of the fridge. Then I remember: he said he’d be late, or maybe not come home at all.
I go to my room, drop my bag on the chair, and sit on the edge of the bed.
My head feels hot. I touch my forehead with the back of my hand. Probably a fever.
Maybe tomorrow it’ll pass.
In the quiet, my phone buzzes once. A message from grandma: Did you get home safe?
Yes, I text back. Thank you. She looked happy.
I lie back on the bed, still in my work clothes, staring at the ceiling.
My body is tired. My heart feels tired too.
But thinking of Eva hugging the rabbit makes something small and warm spark inside me.
For her, I tell myself. I’ll keep going.
- Writer
