Page 52 of The Watcher's Bride

When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. For one blissful moment, I believed I was back in my apartment in New York before the crushing reality of my situation pressed tightly on my chest. I roll over, burying my head under a pillow, and try to fall back to sleep. I need the gentle oblivion that only sleep can give me. My thoughts drift as I lie there, willing myself into sleep that does not come.

I must have eventually nodded off, because when I wake again, the sun is fully shining through the curtains. I feel groggy and hot, the covers tangled around me in a sweaty mess. It takes me a moment to realize what woke me.

The sound of gentle tapping on my door.

“Nora, is everything okay?” Leo asks.

“I’m fine, leave me alone,” I reply like a petulant teen.

“Okay,” he says uncertainly. “Just, it’s after lunch and I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say morosely.

“Well, I’ve made you a sandwich anyway. You need to eat,” he instructs. “I’ll leave it outside your door. If it’s still there when I come back, I’ll come in and force you to eat it myself,” he grumbles before I hear the sound of his footsteps retreating.

I don’t know if he’s being serious or not, but I don’t want to take the risk. Besides, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m ravenous. Reluctantly, I climb out of bed, my muscles aching from being stationary for so long. I flick on the light, forgoing opening the curtains, still wanting to shut the world out for a while.

True to his word, there’s a sandwich placed on a tray on the floor. To my surprise, there’s also a book. I bend down to pick it up, lunch momentarily forgotten as I survey this offering. My jaw drops as I realize the treasure I’m now holding. It’s a first-edition translation ofBeauty and the BeastbyGabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. The book I hold in my hands is nearly as old as the United States. I almost drop it I’m so surprised and awed. It must have cost thousands of dollars. I carefully place it on the table inside my room before retrieving the sandwich and closing the door.

The book has to be a peace offering of sorts, or perhaps he realizes that my love of books means I’ll be happy just to see a book this precious. It’s also not lost on me the irony of the tale he chose to leave for me. Unbidden, a small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

The smell of hot cheese and toasted bread pulls my attention away from the book and I admit defeat and sit down to eat, being careful not to touch the book. The grilled cheese is exactly what I need, comforting and tasty, my favorite sandwich, and I wolf the whole thing down in no time. Hands washed and every last crumb swept away, I carefully open the book and begin to read, losing myself.

Though the book was written for children, the eloquent writing style and familiar yet timeless storyline completelyabsorb me. I finish the book in one sitting, unaware of the passage of time. Forgetting my woes, so akin to the story’s heroine, I’m able to enjoy the simple pleasure of reading. When I’m done, I feel much better and more able to face the rest of the day. I rise with a contented breath and survey the room before getting to work making my bed, cleaning Josef’s litter tray and filling up his bowls, and then taking a shower. When I emerge feeling refreshed, I finally throw open the curtains to allow in some natural light. I’m greeted by the sight of the ocean, sparkling in the afternoon light. There’s not a soul in sight along the pristine sand, and I regret not opening them sooner.

I’m gripped by the sudden urge to go outside and walk, to feel the sand beneath my toes and hear the waves peacefully lapping against the shore. Before I can talk myself out of it, I throw on a sundress and head downstairs, pausing in the kitchen to wash my empty plate. I hesitate as I reach the sliding doors that lead to the beach, still uncertain if I’m truly free to roam. Will Leo think I’m trying to escape? Though I’m not confined to my room, am I allowed to leave the house?

The salty smell of the ocean and the sea breeze whispering against my skin lure me outside. I walk for a short while, lost in thought, before sitting in the sand, allowing the waves to lap gently over my toes. I’m a world away from my life in New York. In such a short span of time, my whole world has been turned on its head. I think of Nadya and wonder what she’s doing, if she’s safe, if my father was true to his word.

I try to decipher Leo’s actions, so unexpected, yet he still went along with the wedding. Is he as much of an unwilling pawn in this marriage as I am? Is he simply trying to make the most of the situation? But he lied to me and pretended to be someone else. To what end? What game is he playing?

I’m as clueless as I was to begin with after a long deliberation. As the sun slowly dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I finally get up, ready to return. No one came for me this whole time. Perhaps Leo knows I won’t run. Where would I even go? I can’t return home or create a new life elsewhere, unless I want my father to find me and hurt people I care about in the process.

I notice a figure in the distance, standing on the deck and watching my approach. Leo. I can’t avoid him forever, but my return is still lethargic, willing him to go back inside so I won’t have to face him, at least not yet.

“Nora,” he says, his voice a caress. “How are you?”

“Fine. Thank you for the book. Should I return it to your office or is it kept elsewhere?”

“I thought it rather fitting,” he replies with a wry smile. “And it’s yours, keep it wherever you wish.”

“Mine?” I reply incredulously.

“Yes, of course. As my wife, all that is mine is now yours. Though the book was a recent purchase, a wedding gift, if you will.”

I nod, unsure of how to respond.

“I was just about to make dinner, would you like to join me?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” I reply more bluntly than I intended. “I just need some time alone,” I explain, trying to bury the guilt I feel at the wounded look in his eyes.

He nods. “I understand. I’ll bring you up a plate in a while.”

I don’t bother protesting, I know it’ll fall on deaf ears. “Thank you,” I reply, moving to walk past him.

He catches my hand in his, his touch light, yet it still makes me hold my breath. “It will get better, Nora, if you let it.”

His fingers gently caress mine, sending goosebumps up my arm. It would be so easy to turn around and talk to him, to ask every question I’ve been yearning to ask but too afraid I won’t like the answers to, but like a coward, I pull my hand from his and walk away without responding.

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