Evelyne's life is going down hill. Penniless, pregnant, alone and to top it off, the man who ruined her life thirteen years ago decides to come back to town and live in the house next door and work in the same hospital she's set her roots in for the...
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"Nia, what're you doing here?"
Nia looks as shocked as I feel but her shock is also filled with distain.
There she stands, my ex bestfriend. The person I always saw as a sister, looking as amazing as ever.
Her dark brown hair that matches owens is flowing over the front of her shoulders. Her perfectly symmetrical dark brown eyebrows are scrunched together at the sight infront of her.
"What am I doing here. Why is she here?" She sputters.
My stomach starts to churn and suddenly, I regret eating the ice cream.
"I'm going to throw up." I mutter and thank god the bathroom is right next to me because all I have to do is take a few steps back and open the door.
My hair is already in a pony tail so i don't need to hold it back but that doesn't stop, what I now know is Owen, to sit beside me.
He drops to the ground and brings his knees to his chest infront of me and off to the right slightly.
He doesn't touch me except for the slightest graze of his knee against my side.
"Remember what I said last week." He says and it's the softest I've ever heard his voice when talking to me while I gag. "Just breathe threw it. You were fine before you opened that door." I don't look at him, instead I close my eyes with a small nod and begin taking some deep breaths.
I feel him tuck the loose strands of hair around my face, behind my ear before he quickly withdraws his hand.
"It's not the ice cream-"
"Don't." I say, harsher then I intended too. "Don't talk about food."
I try to take in another breath but my lungs feel like they're giving out and suddenly throwing up isn't my biggest concern. It's breathing.
"Okay, Lynny." Owen says, sitting up and resting his hand on the top of my back but my hyperventilating takes a whole new level. "Lynn. You're okay." His hand begins to draw small circles on my back like he did all those years ago but there no ridiculing this time.
I lean back from the toilet and place a hand over my chest while the other one reaches out for something to grasp.
The thing I grasp onto is his shirt and I cling to it harder then I did the icecream earlier. He gently pries my hand off his shirt with his own and then grasps my palm in his.
"This is an expensive shirt." He scoffs, still rubbing circles on my back.
It did feel expensive, like it cost more then anybody makes in a year.
I keep trying to breathe normally but it doesn't work, my lungs won't work. My grip on his hand tightens to the point I can feel my ring digging into my skin but I don't stop.
