Pretending that being alone was a choice.
Then Violet sat beside me in chemistry and ruined all of that simply by being intentionally kind.
She was the kind of beautiful that made people turn their heads. I was the kind of girl teachers overlooked without thinking twice.urm08
But Violet never treated me like a project.
“You don’t see how special you are, Layla. Seriously. You make me laugh all the time.”
She stayed—through high school, through college—and every year, I kept waiting for her to realize I was too awkward, too poor, too much work.
Another difference between us? Violet had a home to return to.
All I had was a message from my brother:
“Don’t come back here, Layla. Don’t come home acting like anybody owes you something.”
So I followed Violet to her city.
Not in a creepy way. In a broke-twenty-five-year-old-with-no-plan kind of way.
My apartment was tiny. The pipes screamed every morning, and the kitchen window refused to shut, but it was mine.
Violet showed up during the first week with groceries and a plant I managed to kill in nine days.
“You need curtains,” she said. “Maybe a rug.”
“I need rent money, V.”
“You need a home-cooked meal. That’ll fix everything.”
That was how I met Rick—Violet’s grandfather.
The first Sunday Violet brought me to his estate, I stood in his dining room pretending I understood the art on the walls. I complimented the silverware, staring at the array of forks and knives like I was preparing for surgery.
Violet leaned toward me. “Start from the outside and work your way in.”
“I don’t like you right now.”
“You’d be lost without me.”
Rick glanced up from his soup. “Is there a reason you two are plotting over the cutlery?”
Violet smiled sweetly. “Layla thinks your silver is judging her.”
Rick looked directly at me. “They’re judging everyone, doll. Don’t take it personally.”
I laughed.
And that was the beginning.For illustrative purposes only
After that, Rick spoke to me often. He asked questions, remembered the answers, and noticed things about me—like how I always saw the price of something before I noticed its beauty.
“Because price decides what gets to stay beautiful,” I said once.
Rick leaned back in his chair. “That’s either wise or sad, Layla.”
“Probably both.”
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