The shrill ring of the phone jarred me awake.

It ripped through the comfortable monotone of the radiator humming in the attic since the noise of the traffic from the street below was muffled by the soft, sparkling snow floating down from the skies.

I lifted my head from the patterns of fabric I'd been cutting on the table, grimacing at the tight kink on my neck as I surveyed the small room for the offending device.

Catching the flash of blue-white light, I plucked the cellphone from under a now-empty, still-greasy box of Chinese take-out and stared at the screen.

My heart rate slowed when I saw my brother's name on the call display and I took a deep breath before answering it.

"Hey."

"Viv? What's going on?" Stellan's voice was soft with concern.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, clearly aware I was being deliberately evasive, but I made no other sound. "I had some business in Boston and I thought I'd stop by and see you on my way back. I left you message a couple hours ago, when I confirmed I could spare a few hours, but you never replied. I showed up at your apartment and your landlady said she hasn't seen you for over a week."

"I'm not staying there anymore," I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I got up on my feet and walked to the large window looking out to the snow-covered streets. "I've moved."

"You moved? When? Why didn't you say anything?"

I sank down on the bay window and glanced back at the small, studio apartment I've called home for the last week. It was no more than an attic of an old building in the Flatiron District. I could afford more but there was something comforting about the small, cozy space, the rough industrial finishes and the feeling of being secluded from the rest of the world. Hiding away in it helped me disconnect from the rest of my life, which was probably why I've barely left it in the last week or so.

"I still have the old place and most of my stuff is still there," I explained reluctantly. "I'm probably just going to be here until after graduation."

When Stellan didn't say anything, I hastened to add, "I needed a change of scene while I put my collection together for the finals."

"Why not say anything?" he asked, sounding cautious enough to be unconvinced. "How do you think Dad's going to react when he finds out you've moved residences without telling him?"

"He's going to be upset but he's going to have to quickly accept that I'm an adult, Stellan, and that I can make my own decisions about my life."

The silence that followed made me uncomfortable.

My brother and I have always been close despite the six years between us. He was one of the very few people who knew me very well. He knew I was always very outspoken about what I wanted but for me to be snarky about Dad was a completely rare and different thing. Dad indulged us both to a fault and despite his overprotectiveness, he'd never boxed us in with what he wanted.

"Is there something you want to talk about, Viv?" Stellan finally said. "I'm sitting in my car outside of your old apartment. Give me your address and I'll come over. I don't have to fly back for another four hours."

I hesitated.

I've had very few conversations with both my father and brother since the disaster at Las Vegas. Both had suggested coming to see me for a late birthday celebration and I made excuses about being busy with the ensemble of gowns I was entering into the graduates collection that culminated in a swanky fashion show at the end of the semester. While it was true that the next few weeks were going to be hellishly hectic, I just wanted to avoid any opportunity to discuss Oliver. I avoided a lot of calls and barely returned any of them. Instead, I buried myself in work.

It was an exercise at sealing my emotions off. I didn't mind the cold numbness that had swept over me the moment I woke up to the sharp, foul smell of my own vomit soaking on the carpet of my hotel room. I wasn't out that long but just long enough for my mind to get a grip and for the fortress to set itself up around the ragged hole I wore inside my chest.

I scrambled to finish the last of my packing and checked out with the expediency of a man on fire. One of the hotel cars dropped me off at the airport and within an hour and a half, I was on board a flight back to New York. I risked having Oliver follow me to the airport but between the oral service he was receiving from a woman who'd clearly been just getting started and the all-important meeting with Greaves, chances were slim that he'd find out and confirm for sure that I was already long gone.

His instinct would've been to track me down to Cobalt Bay, assuming I would be hiding with either my father or brother. He would head to Cobalt Bay first and find out that I was no longer the girl he knew so well. I arrived in New York, dropped off my stuff at the apartment and went for a very long walk to nowhere in particular. I somehow ended up outside of the building where the attic studio was and remembered visiting a small art exhibit there before by a group of up and coming local artists a year ago. I called a bunch of numbers until I tracked down the property manager who fortunately admitted that the last tenant had moved out just a couple weeks ago. I gave her my name, my ridiculously generous price and after a hastily organized meeting at a cafe, I signed off on a short-term lease. I went back to my old apartment, packed a suitcase and moved in before eight in the evening.

Since then, my days consisted of heading out to what few classes I had and then holing up in here to work on my designs. I ate when I remembered, I slept only when I practically dropped from exhaustion, and the few times I did have to be around people, I was mostly polite but reserved.

If Stellan came over, I'd be confronted with my first honest conversation in a week and a half. I was nowhere near ready being honest.

"It's a mess here," I hedged. "I've got fabric and drawings and stuff all over the place. Why don't we meet up at Caruso's? It's only a couple of blocks from here."

Caruso's was one of our favorite Italian restaurants in the city—small, mostly a local's destination, tucked between two old brick office buildings. During the years we lived together in New York, Dad would bring us there almost every week.

"I can pick you up," Stellan said. "The snow's not coming down too bad but it's quite brisk."

"I'll be fine, Stel." Realizing that I was starving, I added brightly, "Just thinking of sinking my teeth into a calzone fresh out of the oven will get me there in one piece."

My brother chuckled and I instantly felt better.

"Okay, see you in fifteen, Viv."

I stared at the screen of my phone after the call ended and deliberated on the three messages I had in my voicemail. I had a very good idea who they were from. All week I'd been just deleting the messages without even checking them. I still didn't want to hear his voice or listen to his lies but as if my fingers had a will of their own, I punched in my password, put the speaker on and dropped the phone on top of my work table.

The automated menu was nearly done with its greeting and list of options when I walked into the bathroom and turned the faucet on, the gushing water drowning out what I knew would be Oliver's voice.

I splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth. Miscalculating, I turned the water off still halfway through the last message.

His voice—low, deep and mournful—lanced through the ice-covered walls of my heart and found its target with painful accuracy.

"...Need to know you're okay, Viv... I'm sorry. The last thing I want is to hurt you... and it looks like it's about the only thing I've done... I love you..."

Hot tears sprung in my eyes, distorting my reflection on the mirror as I hastily pulled my hair into a chignon. I stubbornly brushed the tears back and took in a deep, sharp breath to loosen the sudden tightening in my chest.

More spilled down my cheeks and I chased their scalding trail with frantic hands.

"Damn you," I muttered as I gave up to the rush of tears I couldn't wipe away fast enough. I braced a hand against the wall as my head dropped low, biting my lower lip to suppress the sobs that were racking through me now.

I remembered the Oliver I didn't want to know anymore—his boyish smiles, the tender expression on his face when he looked at me, the flash of heat in his eyes that night he took me. I wanted him purged from my memory because in the end, what I knew of him were mere fragments to who he truly was—a liar and a cheat.

Get it together, Vivienne. You only mourn those who are worthy.

As soon as the tears calmed, I soaked a face towel in cold water and slapped it on my eyes for a minute. No trick would fool Stellan. He'd know in a second that yes, something was definitely wrong.

Tossing the towel aside, I strode toward the door, grabbing my hunter green wool coat on the way.

The early evening air had a bite, the thick, fluffy snowflakes kissing icy imprints on my skin seconds before they melted. The cold felt refreshing, putting out a little of the fire inside me. Pulling up my collar, I walked the two blocks to Caruso.

It was a Wednesday but there was no slow night in the cozy restaurant—not with the smell of roasting pizza wafting out to the streets.

Patricio, the heavyset, jolly-faced man who owned and ran Caruso as three generations of his family had before him, greeted me with a dazzling smile when he saw me pop my head past the long line at the door.

"Ciao, bella! Come on in!" He came to the door and guided me in past the crowd. "Your brother's waiting for you."

Patricio took my coat and navigated the narrow gaps between the tables to a quiet booth in the back which had been our usual spot over the years.

"Stellan asked for a bottle of my best pinot grigio since you just had your birthday and he wants to celebrate," the man told me with an indulgent grin. "I'll have it over right away and I already have your calzone sitting in the oven."

I smiled back at the man and leaned in to give him an air kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Patricio. We'll come by and say hi to you and Sofia before we head out and see how the grandkids are doing."

"Oh, don't worry about us. Go see your brother and enjoy, alright, bella?" Patricio said, motioning over to the booth. "It's always good to see you and Stellan."

My brother was watching me as I approached the booth.

Wearing a charcoal gray wool sweater over his white dress shirt with his hair combed back and his frameless glasses glinting in the light, Stellan looked downright serious. His jaw was set, his dark eyes openly assessing me with narrowed curiosity.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" I teased as I sat down across from him. "Nothing terminal, I hope."

"I'm not sure yet," he answered quietly. "It depends on how close you are to wasting away."

I bit back my answer just in time for Patricio to come by with the bottle of wine. For appearances, I smiled and laughed my way through the niceties as Patricio made a big show of a toast to my health and happiness. As soon as he was gone, the scrutiny on my brother's face was back.

"You've lost weight, you have shadows under your eyes, your hair looks like it needs a wash," he stated in a voice that brooked no argument. "You're paler than the washed out formica top of this table and your eyes keep darting around as if you wish you were someplace else."

I glared at him. "I do wish I'm someplace else where I'm not being crudely catalogued like a science experiment."

I adored my brother. Really. I couldn't have asked for a better, kinder, more generous one. But Stellan's highly analytical mind didn't always translate to a sensitive nature. He was extremely observant but he was better at reading scientific theories than people's emotions.

"I'm sorry, Viv," he said softly, sufficiently contrite, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. "I'm just trying to understand what's different, and why."

I sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes," he answered bluntly. "Which suggests that whatever is wrong, it's critical."

The laugh that left me was hollow and harsh. "Critical as in life or death? No, it's not that bad, Stellan. It's nothing that a little distraction and a good bottle of wine can't fix."

I held up my wine glass and made a show of sipping from it.

Because I won't be broken. I gave him everything and now I'm taking it all back.

The surge of anger felt good, powerful, and I latched on to it.

"Did you and Oliver have a fight?"

I managed not to spray wine all over the table. I pursed my lips and dabbed them with a napkin, careful to keep my eyes downcast and my expression neutral.

"What makes you say that?"

"Two things: I've never seen you like this and I've never seen Oliver the way he was when he came to see me a few days ago. You are both miserable."

Nothing like finding out that the love of your life is a callous cheat.

"What did he say to you?" I asked in an even voice, my heart racing at the thought that Stellan might have found out about the epic mistake of my life, marrying a man whose heart never belonged to me as completely as mine did to him.

Stellan arched a brow. "I believe I'm the one with more questions to ask, not answers to give."

I matched his look with a similar one. "I don't have to tell you anything, Stellan."

I immediately regretted my harsh tone. My brother was precious to me and he always meant well. But I didn't have answers to the questions he had lined up.

As angry as I was with Oliver and as unpardonable as his sins were to me, I knew that other than his uncle, Stellan and his other friends were all that he really had left in the world to call family. My father was the closest thing he had to one, even when his own father was still alive.

It would be so easy to irrevocably damage his life like he did mine and rip away the people closest to him. The growing emptiness inside me that I knew I could never fill again tempted me but I couldn't do it. Maybe because I couldn't hurt Stellan that way and disappoint my father with the truth that Oliver wasn't the man he'd always treated like his own son. Or maybe, despite the hate that burned deep inside me, I couldn't hurt him back. It made me angrier because I wanted to hurt him back so bad, to make him feel this sharp, gnawing ache that ate at me until he knew of nothing else.

"He wanted to know where you were and I told him what I knew—that you're still in school. He asked me three times as if he somehow expected a different answer but when he didn't get one, he left."

So Oliver admitted to nothing either.

I wanted to scoff out loud. Of course, he wouldn't. Why would he confess to having recklessly married his best friend's younger sister in Vegas, eagerly taken her virginity, and promptly proceeded to cheat on her? If I hadn't told, he wouldn't either. He wasn't stupid.

"Did he finally manage to break your heart?" Stellan asked with a wince, as if reluctant to speak out loud the words he just did.

My hand shook and I lowered the wine glass down on the table. "What makes you think Oliver had the power to do anything with my heart?"

Stellan sighed and slumped back in his seat. "For as long as I can remember, you had stars in your eyes every time Oliver was around, Viv. When you were young, it seemed like a harmless crush that would go away but it never did, did it?"

I couldn't hold Stellan's searching gaze for long. I stared into the pale golden liquid in my glass instead.

When I didn't answer, he continued, "These last eleven years, I've been dreading the day he finally broke your heart. It was just a matter of time."

I frowned. "If you suspected he was going to break my heart all along, why didn't you say something? Why was there never once some unsolicited brotherly advice from you to stay away from him?"

"Would my opinion have really made a difference, Viv, the way your heart had already been so set on Oliver for so long?"

I shrugged for a response because we both knew it wouldn't have.

"Besides, I wanted to be proven wrong," Stellan added. "Oliver has a grounding effect on you that neither Dad nor I have. And I thought that if there was one woman who could keep Oliver's head screwed on straight, it would be you."

Then you and I were just as pathetically naive on that account, Stel, because we couldn't have been more wrong.

"So what did he do?" Stellan asked after granting me a stretch of silence that probably told him more than anything I said could have. "Do I have to hunt him down and beat him up for you? He didn't say anything when he came looking for you but he looked like he did something terrible."

I gazed out the window, absently following the snowflakes as they slowly swirled down toward the ground.

How could I best describe the unforgivably cruel, utterly gutless betrayal Oliver dealt me?

"He didn't love me...Not like the way I loved him."

A fresh wave of pain hit me at the softly murmured words, crushing the last of my stubborn strength. The raw, simple admission took me under the tide, cut off from air, from freedom, from the faint hope that maybe I'd make it out alive, whole, and still capable of happiness.

It felt like a futile fight for something you had that would never come again.

"I'm sorry, Vivienne." Stellan's voice was gentle and quiet but thick with sympathy I didn't want.

I swung my head sharply toward him. "My stupidity is mine alone to suffer. Don't worry. I've learned my lesson hard and well. I can promise you I won't be repeating it ever."

Instead of looking relieved, my brother closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temples. "Damn Oliver to hell."

I smiled a little.

Over the years, Stellan, Oliver, Max and Sebastian had their fair share of disagreements and scuffles but nothing too serious to cause permanent damage to their friendship. Even as they grew up and their individual lives began to take shape, they kept each other close, their fights never usually lasting beyond their hangover the next day.

Stellan would be pissed off at Oliver for what he would interpret as a not-so-gentle letdown of my decade-long pining but he wouldn't write him off his life. If he knew just how far Oliver went with me, there would be blood, no matter how levelheaded or laid-back my brother was most of of the time.

Oliver would deserve every bit of the punishment but my brother didn't. As mad as Stellan would be, it would hurt him to sever his ties completely with one of his best friends.

I wasn't going to let Oliver hurt any body else I cared about.

So if absolutely deserved deliverance by brotherly wrath was out of the menu, that left me with either the cold serving of wronged-woman revenge or the cowardly but convenient choice of chickening out and running far, far away.

"I'm moving to Paris right after graduation. I got in with Cara Asari. I start in June."

Stellan didn't quite drop his glass—he did his jaw—but he shook it enough that some of the wine splattered on his hand.

"I'm pretty sure I said Paris, not Pluto, and really, that shouldn't surprise you. Any aspiring fashion designer would go." I raised a brow and held out a napkin to him. "I haven't heard a 'Nice job! Congratulations, sis!' yet."

Stellan cleared his throat and took his time wiping his hand. "For one, I don't know who or what Cara Asari is to give an accurate reaction but based on your follow-up statement, I'm going to assume that it's a fashion design company of some sort so 'Nice job! Congratulations, sis!'"

He paused and looked me directly in the eye. "I'm happy for you because this was something you've always wanted to do but I can't help but wonder if you're doing this for the right reasons."

"The only wrong reasons are the stupid ones," I said before tossing back the rest of my wine and grabbing the bottle to pour another glass. "I'm doing this, Stel. It's time."

Stellan finally nodded. "Is this a for-the-rest-of-your-life kind of move or is this like a six-month thing?"

I smiled. "It's a wherever-life-takes-me kind of move."

And that life right now is on the quickest route away from the person who devastated it. I have to go before I'm too broken there won't be pieces left to put back together.

"Well, wherever that is, you know I'll be there for you. Me and Dad both, kiddo." Stellan shook his head and raised his glass for a toast, the brand of resignation only reserved for me clear on his face. "To your new life."

I hung on tight to the smile on my face even as my cheeks quivered with the effort to not to crumple into tears. "To my new life."

It would be different and strange and empty, this new life, now that the person who used to fill so much of my old one was gone forever, but it wouldn't stay that way for long.

I wouldn't let it. I wasn't finished just because my oblivious obsession with Oliver was done. There wasn't anything else I was letting him take from me.

The rest of my dinner with Stellan went by in relative peace. He didn't probe for more answers and didn't ask any more questions about Oliver and the past he knew I wanted to put behind me. We talked about the upcoming graduates' fashion show, my collection, things I wanted in a new place in Paris, options in how to break the news to Dad without giving him a heart attack.

It was late when Stellan hugged me goodbye and put me in a taxi after my resistance at having him drive me home since he was already running late for his flight.

When I came back the attic studio, I shed my coat and boots and made myself a cup of tea to warm the cold in my belly, in my soul.

Paris.

It wasn't until dinner with Stellan that I decided I was going to go.

I dialed Eva Proulx's number and left her a message that I would love to work for her if she still had a spot for me.

I picked up a small, green velvet-covered chest and set it down on the bay window next to my cup of steaming hot tea. I fingered the small cluster of various pendants hanging on the heavy gold chain I wore around my neck until I found the brass key.

I opened the tiny lock that kept the lid in place and stared at the pale blue diamond ring and the white gold band sitting on top of a loose pile of folded notes.

I'd thrown them in there as soon as I arrived in my apartment after fleeing Vegas. I wrote nothing because at that time, I felt nothing but the cold numbness in my bones.

Plucking a sheet from a small notepad on my work desk, I took a deep breath and stared at the blank space on the paper for a moment until it started to distort in my vision.

Hot tears splattered down the note and I dashed the back of my hand against my cheeks, my fingers tightening around the pen as I forced myself to pull all the pain I could draw from inside me and put them on paper so that maybe, once and for all, I could be free of it.

The ink bled on the damp spots but it was enough—it had to be.

I married the man I loved only to be betrayed by him.

Oliver is gone—from my heart, from my life—forever.

I folded the note and tucked it beneath the rings, the memory of Oliver's smiling light blue eyes flashing in my mind as quickly as pain seared through me.

I gasped at the pressure of tears surging up my throat, the air rattling down my chest as it pushed its way through the tightness trapped there.

As soon as I slammed the lid close and my trembling fingers clicked the lock back into place, I swallowed down my sobs and tipped my head up, staring at the ceiling as it swam before my eyes, willing the tears back in the dark place where all this pain needed to be sealed shut.

I didn't want this anymore.

But could a love I nursed for over a decade, no matter how swiftly and thoroughly shattered, be easily swept aside like shards of glass? They would cut me and draw my blood first at the effort but hopefully, the wounds they leave behind wouldn't be as deep, their scars to fade with time.

In my case though, time wouldn't be enough.

The brave would stay to fight and the foolish would stay to prove there wasn't even a battle.

I was neither so I wouldn't stay at all.

***

So, what do you guys think?

I know on the last chapter I said the next one would explain some things. I kind of spaced out and didn't realize that I meant the chapter after this one. But don't worry, it's only a week away. I know, I know, I'm a terrible person for making you wait this long. LOL.

Other than knowing the kind of hell Vivienne is in, another thing I liked about this chapter is getting to know Stellan a little bit and the kind of guy he is. I can't wait for his story but that's for another time.

I hope you enjoyed. Make sure to vote and comment! 

XOXO,

Ninya

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Make It Without You by Andrew Belle ♪♪♪

This is the starting of my greatest fear

I'm all packed up, getting out of here

But then you call and tell me not to go

That I'm the one who put the rock n roll

In your life

This is the starting of a brand new day

Never liked this town much anyway

I need this city like I need the rain

I know that somewhere there's a north bound train

Oh I'll

Make it without you

Make it without you

Though my body's laying here

It's my mouth that must be lying now

This is the starting of my fall from grace

My self esteem, oh it's seen better days

But you know I'll never let this go to waste

I'll keep this memory on the map I trace

Back to home

Friends go out, but I've been staying in

I know I should, but that's the way it's been

I never cared much for the taste of gin

Still don't now, oh, but it's been helping

Oh I'll

Make it without you

In my life

Oh I'll make it without you

Though my body's laying here

It's my mouth that must be lying now

It's my mouth that must be lying now

Oh I

Oh I'll make it without you

Oh I

Oh I'll make it without you

Oh I

Oh I'll make it without you!