Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2)

by Melanie Martins

  I hear an exasperated exhale from him. “Is this some sort of punishment toward me?” His question makes me stop for a second, my heart squeezing a bit at his concern. He sounds worried and genuinely saddened at not seeing me for the past few days. But I kill those thoughts just as fast. Dad is always bluffing, and at this point, I should know better. “Please open the door,” he insists, his tone laced with frustration as he keeps pushing on the handle in some hope that it’ll magically unlock itself. “I’ve been very patient with you, Petra. Why are you doing this?”

  I ignore his second question just like I did the first one, and, picking up another brush, I take a bit more black oil paint from the palette and softly stroke it onto the canvas.

  “Very well, I won’t leave until you open this door.” He’s so pushy, my goodness! “I just want to talk…” And it’s either me, or I just heard a quick sob coming from behind the door. “I haven’t seen you in days. Is it asking too much to have dinner with you?”

  Closing my eyes, I blow out a breath in exasperation. I won’t be able to manage remaining focused if he keeps insisting and pushing me emotionally to the edge. It’s better to talk to him once and for all, and then come back later to paint. I put my brush and wooden palette down, clean my hands, and go to open the door. “Alright,” I mumble as I unlock it.

  And to my surprise, his eyes widen in shock upon seeing me. “You are so…” He lets his words trail off as he observes me from top to bottom, disappointment laced in his gaze. “Skinny.” I can’t help but lower my head, ashamed in some way by what I’ve been doing to myself. I’ve been avoiding Janine and Dad like the plague for the past few days and pretending either to be asleep or to be too busy here to go down and eat. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” His voice is filled with a sadness that tightens my heart even more. “I don’t want to send you to the hospital because you are not eating.” I see his eyes water, and he rubs them before continuing. “You are way below your normal weight. You know that, right?”

  I nod, not looking at him.

  “This hunger strike has got to stop.” Dad pushes my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “I won’t let this depression kill my daughter.”

  Tears leak out of the corner of my eyes and roll down my cheeks, and, with a sob of despair, I sniffle them back, forcing myself to behave. I don’t want to show him how much this whole situation has affected me, but my expression must have betrayed me a long time ago. “I’m sorry. I just…” I sniffle once more, and my hands go to my cheeks to dry them. “I just can’t find the will to get better.”

  “I’m sorry too,” he whispers as he brings me into his embrace. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” And while Dad squeezes me tight in his arms, a hug is something I’d have welcomed from a friend—not from a traitor.

  And as he releases me, I remind him just as fast, “I will never forgive you.”

  “I know.” His thumbs go to my eyelids, where he wipes the tears still falling, then, to my surprise, he presses his lips against my forehead. The gesture is so familiar that it hurts and heals at the same time. “But you have to eat.”

  There is nothing more beautiful than observing the snow peacefully coating the ground in the gardens of Bedford Hills. I keep my face pinned against the window as I marvel at every snowflake falling from the sky. Alex told me he asked the Snow Queen to send it so we could build a snowman. Letting out a sigh, I wonder when I can have the same powers as her. After all, I was also born in December. If I had them, I’d cover the gardens with snow during the summer. But from what Alex told me, it seems her powers only work during winter, because the Queen hibernates afterward. Maybe there is another way… Oh! What if I ask for a magic wand from Santa Claus? Turning to my godfather, who’s lying on the sofa reading, I ask, “Alex?”

  “Mm?”

  “If I ask Santa Claus for a magic wand, do you think I’d be able to make snow fall in the summer?”

  He looks at me with a thoughtful expression, and I keep mine just as serious, before he says, “You know only the Snow Queen has that power.”

  I dip my head, huffing at his reply, and cross my arms. But he doesn’t say anything back and just continues reading. I don’t like when he pays more attention to a book than to me. So I walk over, and, standing in front of him, I poke his arm repeatedly.

  “Yes, Miss Van Gatt?” He sounds annoyed, and I giggle, knowing I’m the reason for it.

  “Why can’t you ask the Snow Queen to give me her powers while she hibernates? I could use them during the summer.”

  Alex lets out a breath in response and closes his book before sitting up on the sofa. I see his lap available, and I resist the urge to sit there. He already told me not to if I haven’t asked politely first. But he also told me I’m a princess, and to me, princesses shouldn’t ask permission to do anything. My lips twitch, undecided, but if he becomes disappointed with me, he’ll tell the Snow Queen, and she might never make the snow fall ever again.

  “Because you need to be older first.”

  My mouth drops, because he never told me my age was a problem. “How much older?” I ask, annoyance thick in my tone.

  “The Snow Queen only gives her power to adults. You are too young.”

  I feel tears resting on my eyelids, disappointed at the sad reality. “How long should I wait, then?”

  Alex gives me a side smile and lifts me up to sit on his lap. “Those powers require a lot of responsibilities,” he tells me. “In ten years, maybe I can introduce you to the Snow Queen.”

  “Ten years?” I repeat in outrage, thinking about the immensity of what ten years means. “That’s a lot of winters and summers.”

  Alex chuckles in return before pressing his lips tightly together against my head. “Great power requires great responsibility.”

  I don’t know what he means by that, but I know the ground outside is white enough for us to build a snowman.

  “Can we go outside and play?” I ask him, my eyes looking upward at his.

  “Sure, let’s go,” Alex replies, setting me on my feet.

  “Yeah!” I clap my hands in excitement, my heart pulsing at a thousand miles an hour as I wait for him to stand up. “Let’s go!” I shout, rushing to leave his library. Then I go into the hallway and try to grab my coat hanging on the wall. It’s a bit too high for me, so I jump, reaching my hand up as high as I can, but it’s in vain. I see Alex walking in my direction, and he effortlessly takes my coat and his. Then he leans down to my level and holds my coat wide open for me to put it on.

  “Let’s go,” I press on as he helps me put my gloves on. Then he takes my scarf and my beanie, and I huff, my patience running thinner with every beat. Meanwhile, Alex insists that I wear them. He covers my head with the beanie and then with the hood of my coat. Once we’re ready, my godfather opens the front door, and my smile grows wider as I take in my surroundings. “Wow…” I utter in total awe at the endless snow coating the fields. I rush outside in a hurry to get started and gather as much snow as possible in my hands. Then I lift them up and throw the snow in the air. And I watch, marveling as the snow floats away, taken up by the wind like magic. Wow… “Have you seen this?” I ask, still fascinated, but no one answers. Looking around, I don’t see my godfather anywhere. “Alex?” My smile drops, and I slowly walk back toward the door, searching for him. “Alex?” I repeat, stepping onto the front porch. When no one replies, my heart freezes, not knowing why. “Alex?” Then I hear footsteps, but no one is coming. I hear him saying he loves me, but there is no one around…

  My eyes opening wide, I realize it was just another nightmare. Sleeping has become scary to me, and I wonder if this is a side effect of the pills Dr. Nel prescribed me. I keep having the same nightmares, then the same illusions, and the same hope that one day, when I expect it the least, Alex will come back and surprise me. Maybe he will be standing at the entrance of Columbia like last time. And like last time, Matthew will want to take a photo in front of the Ro
lls-Royce Phantom. This time, though, I’ll gladly hold his iPhone and take it. Then I remind myself that there is too much at stake and forgetting Alex is the only wise thing to do. But I can’t—my heart is full of hopes.

  How foolish of you, my mother would say.

  But this sense of hope is beyond my control. Because, after all, hope is what makes the world go round, right?

  Hope is what gives us the strength to wake up every day, believing that today will be a better day.

  We want to believe it. We need to believe it.

  Everything will be alright, the sweet words we hear constantly no matter how bad we feel.

  Sunlight is already timidly piercing through the curtains, announcing another day—another day without him…

  I know I’ve got to get up. Since I promised I’d do so without Janine, I push down the sheets and drag myself out of bed, then, moving like a zombie, I head to the bathroom and into the shower. The warm water falls on my tense shoulders as I try to stand steadily, but my body and mind are still asleep, unready for one more day that will just feel like the previous one.

  Manhattan, September 29, 2020

  Every day is the same monotonous routine devoid of any meaning. I read my books with a smile, jumping from one online class to another, but it’s like living out of boredom, patiently waiting for death to take me.

  Then at two p.m., and because it’s Tuesday, Anthony is waiting for me downstairs to take me to my appointment with Dr. Nel. Matthew and the group were kind enough to stay with me for lunch—a ritual that makes me eat a bit more twice a week.

  “This time, tell her something.” Matthew surprises me not only with his caring tone, but by planting a kiss on my temple.

  “You shouldn’t worry,” I mumble, letting a smile escape.

  “I want you to be healthy. And happy and alive, just like before.” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, and I drop my gaze, a bit troubled about how much he cares. “And you should want it too.”

  His voice brings my eyes up again, but, as I look at him, I’ve got nothing to say. Giving him a side smile, I just head toward Anthony, who greets me while opening the door.

  “What was the point of waking up if it’s to live like this?” While I remain lying on the velvet chaise lounge, looking at the white ceiling, I feel like Dr. Nel is smiling at me behind her big notebook. I’ve never initiated a conversation with her before, and I know she wasn’t expecting I’d do so today.

  “What do you mean ‘like this’?”

  Keeping my gaze on the ceiling above me, I say, “Without joy… or the will to live…”

  “You are going through a depression. It’s normal that you—”

  “I miss him,” I finally tell her. But I don’t stop there, no. If I have to “tell her something,” then I’ll tell her everything. “I miss him every single day. More and more.” The sadness my words carry has rendered Dr. Nel totally speechless. “I, um, I don’t sleep well, I’ve got nightmares… Every day the same ones… But who cares, right?”

  “I do care.” My gaze goes in her direction, and I see Dr. Nel removing her glasses as she looks at me pensively, and I wonder if she can see anything without them. “Tell me about them.”

  “Well, um, they’re always of childhood memories.” And my heart squeezes tight as I remember them. “Those of pure joy and happiness.”

  “You had a lot of those moments with your godfather when you were young?”

  “Yeah, my dad was always traveling and busy, so most weekends, I’d go to Bedford Hills.” A little laugh rolls off my lips, and I decide to share my thoughts with her. “Alex used to say he knew the Snow Queen and that once I became an adult, she’d give me her powers.” Seeing how Dr. Nel is squinting her eyes in confusion, I decide to explain, “Um, the Snow Queen is responsible for snow and winter. It’s also my favorite season, and when I was a child, I wanted to play in the snow all the time.”

  “You don’t need him or the Snow Queen to be happy, Petra,” she rebukes just as fast. Her patronizing tone is quite revolting though. “You can do it on your own, you know.” Dr. Nel starts tapping her pen on the notebook, considering me. “I understand you’re associating happy memories with him. But you can build happy memories with your own self.”

  I’m perfectly aware how pathetic I must sound talking to Dr. Nel about my childhood memories, when I felt understood, loved, and appreciated for who I was by a man that she and my parents despise. After all, why am I even surprised by her reaction? “I’m trying…” I answer her, not even bothering to refute her statements. “I’m taking the pills you prescribed me, um, I’m painting, I’m focusing on my studies, but I still miss him…” Yeah, I’m just human, I guess.

  “Yet you barely eat, smile, or talk to anyone,” she points out. “Your parents are worried about you. They care a lot about you.”

  Lies. Clear-cut lies. That’s what Dr. Nel and my parents are all about—creating a world where they feed me illusions. The illusion that they care about me, while in reality, it’s all about them and the chess game they are playing with each other. I’m just a pawn in the way. Tired of her fakery, I can’t help but say, “The truth is, Alex had to leave because Mom told him to.” And simply the idea of it infuriates me. “Why? What does she have against him?” I ask once more.

  But I know Dr. Nel will never tell me. She might not even know either.

  “He is too old for you,” she replies, putting her glasses on to write something in her notebook. “It was not a healthy relationship, and it was not doing you any good.”

  I couldn’t disagree more. When Alex was around, my previous doctors told me I could reduce my intake of Xanax, and my agoraphobia seemed to be under control. But there is no point arguing, because that’s not what matters to Dr. Nel. Her job is to put a smile on my face and to, no matter what, make me forget him. But since the day I saw Alex again at my dad’s fifty-fifth birthday, I knew it would be impossible for me to do so. I will always miss him—no matter how hard she tries to cure me.

  As she glances at her watch, she closes her notebook, and says, “Thank you, Petra. We have made some good progress today. See you on Friday.”

  Chapter 23

  Manhattan, October 2, 2020

  Petra Van Gatt

  It has been two weeks since Alex broke up with me. And since then, I haven’t heard anything from him. Foolishly, I texted him again yesterday and asked how he was doing. But he didn’t even see my messages. I then tried to send the same texts to him on WhatsApp and found out, to my greatest surprise, that he had blocked me. Yes, blocked. After everything we’ve gone through together, I keep wondering how someone I trust and love so much can treat me like this and move to the other side of the world. I’ve come to the conclusion that whatever my mom holds against him, my dad, and his family cannot justify his choice to sacrifice us and our happiness. The man I love would’ve never bowed to my parents’ threats—he would’ve fought back. But this is nothing more than wishful thinking. Because the reality is, that Alex didn’t fight back. Alex simply left. Then I recall how we were supposed to get married in two months. And I can’t help but feel tears rise. I heave several quick sobs, as I no longer believe that our wedding will still happen. How am I supposed to forget him? It feels impossible for me to do so.

  But my thoughts are instantly shattered by the sound of my iPhone ringing. As I look at who’s calling, I see it’s Mom. Again? Shaking my head, I put my iPhone back on the nightstand. I can’t believe how persistent she can be. After a hundred tries, she knows I won’t pick up the phone. Why is she still insisting? Should I block her number once and for all? What if I pick up the call this time and tell her to fuck off? Or what if I actually try to persuade her to leave me and Alex in peace? No, she’ll never agree to it. My phone keeps ringing, and the more I hear it, the more my nerves boil. She hasn’t stopped calling me since Alex broke up with me. What if she wants to tell me the truth? The real reason behind why she is so against us? For better or w
orse, I decide to give her a shot at explaining herself, and I answer it. “Yes?”

  “Oh my God!” I hear Mom breaking into tears and sobbing on the other side. “Oh, my little angel, I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

  But my anger starts rising upon hearing her joy. “You’re happy, huh? You are such a disgusting bitch!” I can’t help it. The words roll out of my mouth. “You destroyed us! You have no idea how much I hate you!”

  Mom doesn’t reply. She takes a deep breath in and then out, and finally says in the calmest voice I’ve ever heard, “Honey, I know you’re upset. I totally get it.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know shit,” I snap back. Tears stream down my face recalling the ugly reality I’m currently living. “You have no idea how horrible my life has been.” Mom doesn’t cut me off, and I hear nothing but her breath. “Are you there?”

  “I am.”

  I shut my eyes tight to prevent more tears from falling, and I pause for a beat before asking, “Why did you do that?”

  “One day, you will understand,” she replies quietly. “I know it has been hard. But he was not the right man for you.”

  I chuckle at her pretentiousness. “He is perfect for me. Everything about him is perfect.”

  “You are sick, Petra.” Her voice is filled with meticulous coldness, sounding nothing but clinical. Even a physician would’ve spoken in a more friendly way. “No girl your age would consider a relationship with—let alone get married to—a forty-one-year-old.”

  “It’s not up to you to decide. It’s my life, for fuck’s sake!”

  “My job as your mother is to protect you.” She sounds more like a dictator than a mother. But maybe for her they are the same thing. “Even if you are firmly against my decision.”

  “What kind of dirt do you have against Alex and Dad?” I dare to ask.