Page 53 of Flawed

10

Chanel

The night seemsto never end. When morning finally comes, I'm exhausted. I get up, go into my bathroom, and look in the mirror, cringing. My eyes are red and swollen, with black circles underneath, and my tear-stained face is pale.

Damn him for doing this to me.

The vision of Luca giving me a final kiss plagues me. I close my eyes, holding on to the countertop, trying to fight more tears. I thought I cried everything out of me, but apparently, I didn't.

I do my best to put on my makeup. It's pointless though.

My eyeliner smears from the moisture. Mascara barely sticks to my lashes, and my foundation does nothing to give me any color.

Giving up, I toss on my flight attendant uniform.

I won't be able to fly soon.

One of these days, I have to come clean to everyone.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and leave my apartment. I jump into a taxi. On the way to the airport, I start crying again. By the time I get on the plane, I'm a complete mess.

I only have a few minutes before Massimo arrives. So I do everything to prepare the plane and then try to clean myself up.

My reflection makes me wince. The person staring back at me isn't one I ever show the world and definitely not my boss.

I sigh and leave the bathroom just as Massimo enters the plane.

He's unusually chipper, chirping, "Well, good morning, sunshine."

I arch my eyebrows. "Why are you so happy?"

He freezes, studying me. I want to crawl in a hole and die. I know I look like crap, and the look on Massimo's face tells me he thinks so, too. He finally asks, "Chanel, is something wrong?"

I put on a smile, but it feels fake. I answer, "No. I'm fine. Are you ready to take off soon?"

He tilts his head and crosses his arms. "Chanel, something's going on. You look exhausted, and you've been crying."

I take a deep breath and try to smile bigger, but it's not working. Massimo isn't a man who I can trick.

Still, I point to the back of the plane. "Which room are you going to sit in?"

"Chanel. I need to know what's going on, right now. You're not okay," he insists.

"Everything is—" Pain sears through my stomach. I put my hand over it and shriek, "Ouch!"

Massimo puts his hand on my back. "You okay?"

"My... Oh God! I-I don't know what's going on!" I admit, crouching over.

"Tell me what is happening here," he orders.

I open my mouth, but I can barely breathe. My stomach cramps worse than any period I've ever had. I can barely stay on my feet. I get light-headed, and my skin turns clammy.

Massimo moves me to a seat, asking, "Should I call an ambulance?"

I lock eyes with him. My lips and hands shake. I can't bear it. Another round of spasms hits me, and I grimace, moaning and clutching my stomach.

Massimo questions, "Chanel, what hurts? Is it your appendix? Something else? Do you have the flu? What is it?"

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