Chapter 2
"Cassian," Vesper said, her voice calm but resolute, "we need to talk."
He walked over and sat down beside her, still radiating the chill from outside.
"About what?" he asked.
"We need to talk about us," Vesper said.
He paused, then slipped his arm around her shoulders, so practiced it felt automatic.
"Tonight was my fault. Liora suddenly wasn't feeling well, and Mom wasn't home. I just couldn't leave her alone..." he apologized.
"It's always the same excuse," Vesper cut him off, her voice so steady it even surprised herself.
"Every time she needs something, you drop everything for her.
"Every time, I'm the one who's not considerate enough, not generous enough, not grown-up enough," she complained.
"Every time I get upset, it's always me making a fuss," she cried.
"Cassian, do you even realize how many times you've chosen her over me in the past three years?" she fumed.
Cassian frowned. "She's like a sister—"
"She's not even your real sister," Vesper shot back.
"She's always sick..." he tried to explain.
"She has a mom, a dad, doctors, and a nanny. She doesn't need you to take care of every little thing," Vesper stormed.
"She's twenty-four, not fourteen. She can go to the hospital herself, take her own medicine, and handle her 'feeling sick' on her own.
"Why do you act like she can't live without you?" Vesper snapped.
"Vesper—" Cassian called.
"I'm just tired," Vesper said, cutting him off.
She stood up, dodging his hand as he reached for her.
Cassian got up and walked over to her.
"What's gotten into you today?" Cassian asked, his voice tinged with confusion and helplessness.
"Liora hasn't done anything to you. Why are you always so hung up on her? I brought you a gift. See if you like it," he said.
He took a velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open.
Inside was a delicate necklace: a thin chain with a small, golden sun pendant, perfectly round and rimmed with sparkling diamonds.
He offered the box to her. "I picked it out just for you. See if you like it."
Vesper stared at the necklace, and a sudden smile appeared on her face.
It was a faint, almost invisible smile, just a slight lift at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes held no trace of joy.
"Cassian," she said softly, "did you really pick this out yourself?"
He was taken aback.
"She picked the style, didn't she? Did she also say, 'Cass, Vesper will definitely love it," Vesper pressed.
"She always says she's like a little sun, and this pendant matches her so well'?" Vesper asked, her tone laced with irony.
Cassian didn't say a word.
But Vesper knew she was right.
Vesper knew Liora too well.
Liora never did anything openly, never showed her displeasure or hostility directly.
She'd quietly seep into your life, so gentle and thoughtful that you couldn't find a way out.
Liora didn't ask Cassian to buy that necklace out of any real desire to make Vesper happy.
She just wanted Vesper to know that even the gifts her husband gave her were all chosen by Liora.
Vesper slid the box back across the table to him.
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed," she said.
She turned and headed for the bedroom.
She heard footsteps behind her, and in the next moment, Cassian wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"Vesper," he whispered in her ear, his voice carrying a hint of pleading, "don't be mad."
She closed her eyes.
"I'm not mad," she replied.
"Then what is it?" Cassian pressed, still confused.
"I'm really just tired," Vesper replied.
She pulled away from him, headed to the bedroom, and shut the door behind her.
*****
Her mind flashed back to sophomore year.
Evening rush hour at Thornfield University's Eastgate was always a mess.
A flood of students on bikes spilled out after classes, cars stuck at the intersection, honking impatiently, and pedestrians weaving across the crosswalk in small clusters.
And right by the guard booth stood the traffic officer, the only bit of order in all that chaos.
Vesper had been hanging around here for two weeks straight.
She sat on the edge of a flower bed, clutching a half-finished cup of iced coke, her gaze cutting through the crowd, zeroing in on him.
White gloves, reflective vest, standing tall and straight like a young poplar, his whistle sharp, his gestures quick, the way he directed traffic looked like he was conducting an orchestra.
Wherever he went, her eyes never left him.
"Girl, what major are you even in?" Zara finally blurted out, unable to hold back any longer.
She'd been tagging along with Vesper for three days and was totally lost.
"Our cafeteria's up north, classes are to the west, dorms are south, so why do you keep coming all the way to the east gate every day? Seriously, what's your deal?" she asked.
Vesper bit her straw, eyes still glued to him. "Business school."
"Business? Then what are you doing at the Eastgate? Our department's building is on the west side," Zara pressed.
"To watch him," Vesper replied simply.
Zara went quiet for a couple of seconds, then followed Vesper's gaze.
The traffic officer turned just then, showing off a sharp, chiseled profile.
He really was easy on the eyes. High cheekbones, a strong nose, a jawline that could cut glass, and standing there among the other officers, he was like a star among extras.
But seriously, could good looks put food on the table?
"Are you for real?" Zara blurted out.