After leaving the Bulldogs without looking back, Deya is forced into hiding. Finally ready to face her inner demons, she puts all her strength into turning her life around and honouring the memory of her deceased father. Attending therapy. Universi...
The warm sun rays cast a golden curtain on Deya's face, forcing her to roll over in the bed with a dissatisfied moan. The few seconds between waking up and fully returning to reality were blissful, but they passed too fast, and the sharp pain shooting from her temples to the back of her head was an unwelcome reminder that yesterday has consequences.
Holding her breath, she forced her eyes open, nearly squealing in joy upon seeing the comfort of her own bedroom. Her life was still an utter mess, which probably explains why she felt the need to get blackout drunk. But she managed to get home safe and alone. So, maybe it's time to start celebrating the little wins.
Besides, one of her last memories was watching Charlotte's laughing face as they competed who can catch more peanuts in their mouth, so it was safe to say that they're cool again.
For now.
She still had no idea what got into Elijah that one cursed evening. And as much as she tried to push it, Charlotte was adamant that he hasn't told her either. Apparently, all she knew was that he returned pretty upset, and when she didn't hear from Deya at all the whole week, she figured it must have been something big.
But was it?
Although she didn't think that Charlotte lied, Deya couldn't shake off the feeling that she knows more than she's letting her know. However, blaming her for keeping secrets felt rather hypocritical, and so she forced a smile before drowning her questions in more alcohol.
Coincidentally, it was about then that her memories started to blur, eventually dissipating into complete darkness.
She rolled on her other side before glancing at the alarm clock and cursing under her breath. However, the sight of an almost ancient looking book lying right next to it made her freeze.
Huh, weird.
Grabbing it as carefully as if it was a ticking bomb, she let her fingers gently dance across the brown cover, outlining every letter of the title.
Anna Karenina.
It was the most beautiful thing she has seen in a while. Yet, the mysterious circumstances of its appearance made her feel uneasy.
Did Charlotte give it to her?
If her memory served her well, the blonde admitted herself that she's more into movies than literature, not having read for leisure since primary school.
But who else?
With that thought, she forced herself to stop listing through the pages and finally picked up her phone. It was probably time to get Charlotte shine some light on what exactly happened.
The angry rumbling of her stomach reminded her that hangover is time for munchies, and so she wrapped herself into the blanket before shuffling into the kitchen. Her cooking skills didn't improve much since she lived with Hunter. But at least she learnt how to fry some eggs without smoking up the kitchen and destroying a pan.
Then again, as she stared into the abyss of her empty fridge, it became clear she's seriously under-stocked.
Take out it is. She let out a sigh before pulling out her phone and placing an order. But as if on cue, it buzzed in her hands with Charlotte's messages popping up on the screen.
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