Page 27 of A Prescription to My Heart

She snorts. “Wow. That’s rich.”

I ignore the jab. “What do you want, then?”

“Nothing.” Her voice is firm. “I wantnothingfrom you, Soren.”

We stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. Then she shoves past me, yanking the closet door open.

“I have work to do,” she mutters.

And just like that, she’s gone.

I exhale, staring at the empty space she left behind.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to get what I want.

***

I wake up to sunlight streaming through the blinds, slanting across the bed in sharp golden lines. The warmth on my skin is pleasant, but my mind is already pulling away from it, ticking through the day ahead.

I drag a hand down my face and sit up. The sheets are tangled around my legs, a mess of fabric from restless sleep. My body aches in that familiar way—too many long shifts, too little rest. But there’s no time to dwell on it.

Marigold.

I glance at the clock. 6:30 AM. Marigold needs to be up soon.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand and stretch, rolling out the stiffness in my shoulders before heading to the bathroom. The cool tile is a shock against my bare feet, waking me up fully. I splash cold water on my face, grip the edges of the sink, and let out a slow breath.

Talia’s words from yesterday still linger. The rejection. The way she didn’t even think about it before shutting me down.

I shake it off.

Not important. Not now.

I go through the motions of my morning routine—brush my teeth, a quick shower, towel-dry my hair, and pull on a fresh shirt and jeans. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of wood settling.

I make my way to Marigold’s room.

Her door is slightly open. I push it wider, stepping inside. The room is a whirlwind of pink and chaos—stuffed animals piled on a chair, sketchbooks scattered across the desk, a blanket half on the bed, half on the floor. The antithesis of my own room. But somehow, I cherish it. Balance to my control.

Marigold’s curled up in the middle of the mattress, hair a wild halo around her head. Peaceful. Soft breaths. For a moment, I pause, simply watching her sleep.

She deserves the world.

I can’t let them take her from me.

I walk over and tap her shoulder lightly. “Goldie, time to get up.”

She groans and burrows deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that yesterday,” I remind her, amused. “And the day before that.”

She peeks at me with one eye, scowling. “You have no proof.”

I huff a laugh, then lean down, bracing my hands on the mattress. “Come on, kid. Up.”

She flops onto her back, dramatic. “School issooverrated.”

“I agree. Let’s drop out and move to the mountains.”

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