Page 57 of Iridescent
The truth of it hits me all at once. A tight, painful lump rises in my throat.
Althea has gone still, listening even as she pretends to fuss with the stove. I catch the hope in my sister’s eyes, and my chest tightens.
Shame settles heavy under my skin. Last night, with tears drying on my face and the ruins of my marriage spread out in front of me, I made a plan. Leave. Get a divorce. Put as much distance as I could between myself and Xavier and the wreckage he had made of my life. It never once occurred to me to go home.
I shake my head and wipe my face with the corner of the sheet. My chest still aches, but the feeling swelling through me now is gentler, almost unbearable in a different way.
“It’s been hard, Yiayià,” I admit
Yiayia’s eyes narrow, and I know she is swallowing a dozen questions. But all she does is nod. “Then come home, agapi mou,” she says gently. “Let the sea air do its work. You’ve been carrying too much for too long.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to cry again. “I... I’ll think about it,” I manage, even though part of me already wants to book the flight.
“Life is too short for maybe later.” She fixes me with the same iron stare that used to root me in place as a child. “Yara, listen to me. You will comehome. You’ve stayed away long enough. You’ll dance at my wedding, eat real food, get some sun, and remember who you are.”
“Yiayia, the eggs are done,” Althea cuts in, waving the plate in front of her.
“Such drama,” Yiayia retorts, but she takes the plate and sets the phone down, giving me a wider view of her sunny kitchen. My sister stands beside her, stealing bites of toast straight from Yiayia’s plate like she has every right. “So, it’s settled. We’ll see you soon, ne?”
“I... yes. I’ll come home,” I whisper. The uncertainty is still there, but for once it feels smaller than the need rising inside me. I want to hug her. I want to hear her loud, fearless voice in the same room again.
Yiayia’s face brightens for a fleeting second before she hides it behind a gruff nod. “Good. Of course you will. And none of this crying business when you get here, understand? We’ll drink and dance and chase all that sadness away.” She pretends to adjust her sunglasses, but I catch her wiping at the corner of her eye.
"I promise," I say softly.
“See you soon. Ah, one more thing,” she adds, slipping back into brisk mode. “Try to eat something. A Ventris should have more meat on her bones.”
Althea elbows her, stage-whispering far too loudly, “Yiayia, enough. Don’t scare her off now.”
I laugh again, and the sound feels more natural each time it leaves me. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll see you soon. I love you both.”
They echo it back, and then, with one last blown kiss and a command from Yiayia to send my flight details the moment I book them, the call ends. The screen goes black, leaving me with my own reflection.
I stay where I am, the phone still warm in my hand, listening to the quiet settle around me. It feels different now. Less suffocating after Yiayia’s chaos and love. I can almost still hear her voice in these walls that have heard far too many of my tears lately.
Knock, knock, knock.
The soft sound at the bedroom door steals the breath from my lungs. My whole body goes rigid.
“Yara?”
Xavier. Of course. His tentative voice slips through the heavy wood, thick with remorse. “Amor... may I come in? Please. Let’s talk.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. The wound is too raw. Even hearing his voice scrapes against it.
Another series of knocks. “Please, amor,” he whispers. “Just for a minute. I... I’m so sorry.”
I bite down hard on my lip until I taste blood.Amor. The word used to feel like shelter. Now it only rips me open wider. My vision blurs again, fresh tears threatening. I don’t know how much more crying my body has left in it.
On the other side of the door, I hear him let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. Something defeated in his voice twists low inside me, but I do not move. His footsteps recede down the hall until I hear the faint creak of the stairs. A moment later, a door closes somewhere in the house. He is gone.
Good.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up, swaying for a second before I steady. A deep ache hums through my limbs. Every punch I threw last night has settled into my muscles. My shoulders protest when I roll them, and I flex my fingers against the stiffness. Physical pain I can handle. It is the ache inside me that threatens to bring me to my knees.
I make my way out of the room.
Downstairs, the house sits in that strange, suspended quiet that only exists before the staff begin moving through it again.
