Page 37 of Twisted Violet
Not now.
Not when I’m finally building a life here.
My chest still feels tight, but my hands stay steady as I swipe left and hit delete.
The messages vanish, like they never happened.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and force my shoulders to straighten.
If ignoring it makes me a coward, so be it.
Better a coward than a burden.
THIRTEEN
NIKO
It’stwo a.m. and I’m restless again.
I’malwaysrestless.
Sleep never comes easily to me.
Not when it’s dark, not when it’s quiet. That’s when the noise in my head is at full volume.
So I move from room to room. Wall to wall. Until I eventually end up here, standing shirtless in the kitchen.
The kitchen is empty; the lights are off, and the fridge is humming.
I open it, not because I’m hungry, but because eating is just something to do to pass the time.
Rows of meal-prepped containers stare back at me, filled with grilled chicken breast, sweet potatoes, and broccoli. All of them labeled in careful handwriting.Violet’s handwriting.
They must be for Rome.
I slide the containers aside and dig deep into the back of the fridge and find an old prepackaged snack kit with crackers, cheese and turkey in it.
I peel back the plastic, stack the meat and cheese on a cracker, and take a bite
“That’s nostalgic.” A voice calls out from somewhere in the darkness.
It’s Vi.
I don’t jump; I never do, but her sudden appearance does catch me off guard.
She’s barefoot in a sleep shirt that hits mid-thigh, with sleeves too long for her arms. Her long lavender hair’s a mess, and her eyes are tired. She looks like she was pulled out of sleep mid-dream, or mid-nightmare.
“You want one?” I ask, holding up another stack.
She gives me a look. “You’re literally eating sadness,” she says, then glances away like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to tease me.
I shrug and chew. “Gets the job done.”
She crosses the kitchen and opens the pantry, already scanning like she’s planning something better. “Let me make you something better.”
I stop chewing.
“You don’t have to.”
