Tangles in his silence

Chapter 2.

I excused myself to the bathroom again. I needed to calm my nerves.

“What the heck was that?” I whispered as I looked at myself in the mirror.

When my nerves were finally cooled, I took out my phone and went through my notifications. They were mostly business texts. I heaved a heavy sigh.

I liked the peace being alone brought me. Not having anyone you have to impress. No crazy exes. But sometimes, I couldn’t help but feel lonely. The weight of everything started pouring down on me.

I dialed my best friend’s number. She picked on the first ring.

“Nia! What’s up?” Amy said, her tone light and comforting.

“I don’t know where to start,” my voice cracked.

“Start anywhere. You sound exhausted.”

I stared at the ceiling struggling to find words. “I feel like I’m drowning, Amy. Work, people, my head. Everything. It’s like I’m doing all the right things but it’s still never enough. I pretend like I’m fine around everyone when I’m not.”

Silence hummed between us before she finally spoke up. “Nia,” she said softly. “You don’t have to keep performing for everyone. Not with me”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening.

“I know. That’s why I called you. I hate admitting this, but I feel overwhelmed. I don’t want to fall apart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting that,” she said firmly. “You’re human, Nia. Falling apart doesn’t mean failure. Sometimes it’s the only way to rebuild.”

“Why do you always know what to say?” I let out a shaky breath, eye stinging. Her certainty was a lifeline, but it didn’t stop the ache spreading through me. Why did it take so much effort just to exist?

“Because I know you.”

Before I could answer my phone buzzed. A new message, I almost ignored it, but my eyes flicked down, and I froze.

We need to meet. Your mom and I are coming over, I’ll inform you when.

My father.

My chest tightened.

“Nia?” Amy’s voice was cautious.

“It’s… him,” my voice came out flat.

Silence stretched.

“Your dad?” Amy finally spoke.

“Yeah.” I let out a humourless laugh. “Apparently he wants to meet. Like everything is fine.”

The bitter taste in my mouth was familiar. My father never reached out unless he wanted control. Not comfort. Not connection. Just control.

“The man who pushed you until you left home? And now he wants to talk?” I could hear the anger in her voice.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, pressing my hand on my forehead. Part of me wants to ignore it. Delete the text. But the other part still wants him to say sorry, even though I know he won’t.

“You don’t owe him anything, Nia,” she said softly.

“But he’s still my dad,” I whispered. “And I hate that it still matters.”

“It matters because you’re human. And you don’t have to walk into fire just because he calls you.”

I didn’t answer. My phone buzzed again, another message from him. I decided not to open it.

“Whatever you decide,” Amy added, her voice gentler, “I’ve got you. Always.”

I managed a weak laugh. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably implode. But lucky for you, you’ll never find out.”

I smiled faintly, but the weight in my chest didn’t lift.

“Okay, I have to go now. Steph must be looking for me by now.“

“Right. Call me if you need anything. I love you, bye”

“Okay, bye. I love you, too.”

I ended the call leaning against the bathroom sink, the weight of her word still pressing into me. She told me I didn’t owe him anything. She told me falling apart doesn’t mean failure. I wanted to believe her, but the text from my father still burned like acid.

When I finally pushed myself out of the bathroom, the hum of the gallery washed over me. Everything looked glossy, perfect. I felt like a crack down the center of a perfect vase.

I neared one of the larger canvases and let my eyes trace the bold stroke of colours. I stood there, arms folded, letting the colors speak what I couldn’t put to words.

Deep crimson spilled across the canvas, tangled with streaks of black that looked almost violent. But at the center, a flash of gold bled through, as if the light refused to be swallowed whole.

For a second, I thought about my father’s text.

I exhaled and turned. Too quickly.

I slammed into something solid. Someone. My phone nearly flew out of my hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I…“ I started, heat rushing to my face.

A sharp voice cuts me out. “Watch where you’re going.”

The voice was as cold as ice. I lifted my gaze and met his.

It was the man I’d noticed earlier during the bidding, the one whose eyes lingered too long on mine. Up close, he was even more beautiful. His face was perfectly sculpted, with a jaw that looked like it could cut through stone. His cologne cut right through my nostrils and I breathed in the spicy woody smell. Grey eyes that looked soulless stared down at me.

“I said I’m sorry.” I managed, my voice tighter than intended, and moved some steps back.

His eyes swept over me, not softening. “Accidents happen when people are careless.”

Careless. The word dug under my skin. I’d spent years holding myself together, fighting not to collapse under the weight of everything, and this stranger had the audacity to call me careless?

I straightened, meeting his gaze. “And arrogance happens when people mistake themselves for royalty.”

For the briefest moment, something shifted in his expression, surprise, maybe amusement. And then it was gone.

We held each other’s gaze, the noise of the gallery fading until it felt like it was just us in the room. I hated the way my heart betrayed me, thudding harder the longer he looked at me.

Finally, he stepped aside, just enough to let me pass, his voice low, almost like a warning. “Be careful next time. Not everyone here would let you off so easily.”

His words linger in the air. Before I could snap back, a familiar voice cut in.

“Ianthe!”

Steph made her way to my side, her heels clinking against the marble floor. She looked relieved to see me, until her face shifted to the man standing across from me. Her face paled, but she was quick to recover.

“Mr. Vale,” she said quickly. “It’s good to see you here. How have you been enjoying the event?”

Vale. The name dropped like a stone.

Of course. Rowan Vale. The only son of the Vale empire.

Even I had heard that name before. The kind that carried weight in the business world, if Steph’s expression was anything to go by.

He didn’t answer her, his gaze was still on me, dark and sharp, as if Steph hadn’t spoken at all.

Steph’s eyes darted between us, worry written all over her face.

Steph’s laugh was light but forced. “I hope Ianthe hasn’t inconvenienced you. She’s usually very careful.” Then, hurriedly, she added “Perhaps I could show you around the exhibition? We have several pieces I know you’ll find remarkable.”

I frowned. Why was she speaking like he was royalty? I had already apologized.

Rowan Vale shifted his attention, just enough to acknowledge her. The movement was subtle, deliberate, like a king deciding whether or not to indulge a subject.

I crossed my hands, my heart still racing. “You don’t need to cover for me, Steph. I said I was sorry.”

She shot me a sharp look, the kind that meant shut up now. But I wasn't about to play the trembling admirer just because he had money and happened to be the most attractive man I had ever seen.

Get yourself together, I told myself.

Rowan’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Your artist has… spirit,” he said, voice smooth and cool, like the words were both compliment and criticism.

Steph blushed, scrambling for words. “She’s very passionate about her work,” she said quickly, looping her arm slightly towards him as though to guide him away. “Please, allow me to show you some other highlights of the night.”

For the moment, he didn’t move. His eyes lingering in mine, weighing me like a challenge. Then, finally, he allowed her to guide him away, his presence trailing behind like smoke.

My phone buzzed again in my hand, another message from someone. But I didn’t open it.

Because all I could think about was Rowan Vale. And the way he looked at me like I was already a challenge he intended to win.

I booked a taxi and went home, remembering to leave Steph a text.