Strings and Schemes

Chapter 20

"No."

"Rude."

I turn to Gemma, the only competent person here. "And you, my dear, are in charge of making sure these idiots don't ruin my entire exhibit before opening."

Gemma surveys the room, then nods solemnly. "A challenge, but one I accept."

With everyone assigned, the room bursts into a flurry of movement—Louis and I maneuvering heavy sculptures into position (with minimal swearing), Liam adjusting the lighting with a level of precision that makes me suspect he missed his true calling, Niall dramatically curating a playlist that's half indie masterpieces and half complete garbage, and Harry... well. Harry mostly complains.

By the time we're nearly finished, I'm sweating, exhausted, and weirdly emotional.

I step back, taking in the sight of all of them—arguing, laughing, putting in the work just because I asked them to. Because they showed up for me.

Louis nudges my shoulder. "You're getting all misty-eyed, babe."

I sniff, elbowing him lightly. "Shut up."

He grins. "I live to be sentimental."

"You live to be dramatic."

"Same thing."

Gemma claps her hands, surveying the room with approval. "Well, love, it's almost ready."

"Almost?" I echo.

She nods toward the biggest piece in the room—the last sculpture I still haven't placed.

The one of the tightrope walker, caught mid-step between one world and the next.

The one that feels most like me.

I exhale, stepping toward it.

"Alright," I murmur. "Let's finish this."

I head home to get ready for my gallery opening, the press starts in 90 minutes and I have definitely seen better days.

Louis practically shoves me into the bathroom like I'm a child who's been rolling in the mud.

"Get in," he says, dramatically cranking the water hotter. "Cleanse yourself of your sins."

"It's an art show, not a baptism," I grumble, peeling off my clothes as steam fills the space.

Louis leans against the counter, unfazed. "Your sins run deep, babe. You need this."

I roll my eyes but step into the scalding water anyway, wincing at the heat before it settles into something just on the right side of tolerable. The stress, the exhaustion, the near-psychotic energy of the last few weeks—it all melts away as I stand under the water.

I let my head fall forward, closing my eyes as the water pounds against my back. My exhibit. The culmination of everything—of me and Zayn, of the story I've been trying to tell, of everything I've been too afraid to say out loud. It's finally here, and all I can do is hope it's enough.

Louis' voice cuts through the bathroom door. "Raina, if you overthink in there for one more second, I will physically drag you out!"

I groan, reaching for the shampoo. "You are so dramatic."

"Says the woman putting her entire soul on display for the world."

He's not wrong. But I don't say that. Instead, I speed through the rest of my shower and step out, steam curling around me as I grab a towel.

"It's not the whole world, nobody knows who I am, really."

Louis gives me an eye, "Yeah, like there weren't a dozen articles written about you, the mystery girl that Zayn Malik is dating."

Gemma is already waiting outside the bathroom, holding a garment bag with the kind of intensity that suggests I will be wearing whatever she's chosen, and I will be grateful for it.

"Put this on. No complaints," she orders, handing me the bag.

I peek inside, feeling a spark of relief—she gets me. A sleek black dress, asymmetrical with subtle sculptural elements that mimic the curves of some of my pieces. Elegant but striking.

"Gem, you are a vision," I breathe, stepping past her to get dressed.

"And you better wear the shoes I picked," she calls after me.

I glance at the box waiting on my bed. Black stilettos with delicate metallic embellishments, like something pulled from the future. Not my typical converse, but something new.

"You know me so well it's scary," I mutter, slipping them on.

When I finally emerge, hair damp but styled, makeup carefully done (with minimal interference from Harry, who insisted on 'helping'), the room stills for a second.

Louis whistles, spinning me by the shoulders. "Now that's a woman about to ruin some lives."

Gemma beams with satisfaction. "Perfect."

Niall, balancing a plate of whatever ungodly mix he and Liam have cooked up, just grins. "You are gonna eat this, right? Because I refuse to watch you faint halfway through your own exhibit."

I sigh but accept the plate, already regretting it. "What is it?"

"Don't ask, just chew," Liam advises. I take a bite. Pause. Swallow. Niall watches me like I'm a science experiment. "So?"

"It's... edible." Louis cackles.

Gemma pinches the bridge of her nose. "I told you both to follow a recipe."

I shake my head, setting the plate down. "You guys are too much. But—thank you."

For the chaos. For the love. For showing up.

Harry claps his hands. "Alright, show time, babe. You ready?"

I exhale slowly. Am I ready? I meet Louis' gaze, then Gemma's, then Liam's and Niall's. I don't know if I ever will be.

But I nod anyway. "Yeah. Let's do this."