181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 10: A Surprise

Speechless.

Of course I knew that "not everything has a reason" wouldn't work here, but it happened to fast, it was the only reason I could think of. "I don't know. The idea just popped in."

"You're lying."

"What? I'm not—"

I was so into telling my made-up story that it was only then that I realized she was now nearer, the space between us now smaller. And her hand—oh my god, her hand . . . her hand was touching my pinky finger. Maybe it wasn't intentional, or maybe it happened because she moved closer, but it still caught me off guard. The next I knew, I was nervously pulling my hand out and, using that same hand, rubbing the tip of my nose.

Her smirk told me she had read my actions. Although I didn't want to give her the advantage, it was already too late.

"What changed?" she asked, her voice husky and deep, her eyes looking into mine intently. I was about to reply when she added, "And is this story of yours the reason you left me without a word?"

Think, Maddie. Think! "I-I told you I was feeling my character."

"You want me to believe that?"

"Yes!" I admitted, frustrated of the pressure she had all the right to put on me. "M-my character was scared! What was she supposed to do? Wake you up? Tell her she's about to die?"

"Now your character sees the abnormality studying in her same school. They become seatwork partners, and when the abnormality suggests that it could make her happy for eternity, she then gives a due date. Is this what it's about? An agreement so you could continue writing this story of yours? To feel things without attachment?"

She said what I really wanted right in front of my face—an agreement. But not because I was writing as I made her believe so but because I wanted to have a peek of what being cared for may be like, albeit forced.

I looked down, too embarrassed that I even thought of using someone. Nevertheless, somehow, words escaped my trembling lips, slowly and softly: "Is that too selfish for me to ask?"

"Yes. Yes, it is," she answered as she gently lifted my chin. I was supposed to respond, but how could I when I was already distracted by her face being a few inches away from me? From this distance, all I could see—or rather all I allowed myself to look at—was her small lips. I cleared my throat and forgot what I was about to say, letting her speak further. "You can't just use someone to justify your attachment issues, Your Majesty. But it doesn't mean I won't agree with your proposition."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean I'll do anything to get to know you and be with you anyway. But promise me one thing," she said as she moved an inch closer. "If you captured feelings beyond that date, will you be honest?"

"But there's nothing beyond that."

"There is, Your Majesty. You are not your character."

"What if I don't?"

"What do you mean? Do you have a terminal sickness?" When I shook my head, she added, "Or are you . . . do you want to get help from a professional?"

"I'm physically and mentally okay. It's just hypothetical."

"This character you made up, she seems complex. A perfect fit for a protagonist. I'd definitely be attached to her, as a person with a savior complex. At the same time, I want her out of your system. I want you to outlive her."

Those were the most encouraging words someone had told me so far, especially how Mickey had no idea it was real. Yet as much I would want to savor the romance hidden behind her statement, my ego had to interject and remind me that I had no time to dwell with such; besides, no matter how she spew reassuring speeches, the fact that I had little time would not change.