ZOE DEAN'S POV
It was one of those days again—the kind that dragged on endlessly, leaving you wishing the world would just pause long enough for you to breathe. My whole body ached. The cramps were killing me, twisting deep in my stomach until I felt sick. Add the exhaustion, the constant hum of anxiety in my chest, and the mess of my thoughts… and I was done. Completely done.
All I wanted was rest. Just one long, quiet day where I didn't have to smile, didn't have to think, didn't have to be anything. But of course, that was impossible—not with my manager hovering around like a hawk, watching my every move as though I might break another glass just by breathing wrong.
Since I came back, she hadn't once asked what happened. Not a single question about how I'd been abducted by one of her customers. Nothing. Not a "How are you holding up?" or "Are you okay?" Just cold stares and reminders that I needed to "work harder now." As if almost being kidnapped was some kind of unpaid leave.
I'd wanted to scream at her so many times. To ask her how she could be so heartless. But I knew better now. I needed this job. I couldn't afford to lose it again. So I stayed quiet, swallowed my anger, and tried to survive one day at a time.
I was clearing a tray of empty champagne glasses when Fredda came out from the back, frowning and holding another tray. My heart dropped before she even spoke.
"What happened?" I asked, setting down the glass in my hand.
She placed the tray on the counter with a heavy thud. "You messed up another order. Again."
Her tone wasn't angry exactly—it was more like frustrated disappointment—and that somehow made me feel worse.
"I did?" My voice came out small. It wasn't even surprise, just guilt. This was the fifth mistake in two days, and I could already imagine Helen's look when she found out.
"You did." Fredda crossed her arms, sighing through her nose.
I dropped my gaze to the counter, shame prickling at the back of my neck.
"Zoe," she said after a pause, her voice softening, "if you're not feeling well, you can talk to Helen. She might give you a few days off."
I almost laughed. Might. Right.
"You know your boss," I said quietly, glancing up at her. "You really think she'll let me take a day off after disappearing for over a month?"
"She'll be worse when she finds out you're messing up orders," Fredda countered, folding her arms tighter.
She was right. She always was.
I leaned back against the counter and rubbed my temple. I could feel the exhaustion sinking deeper—into my bones, my chest, my mind. Benny had told me to move on, to live my life like before. But what did that even mean now? I was breathing, yes. But living? Barely.
The silence stretched between us until Fredda spoke again, her tone gentler this time. "I thought you said you'd forget about him, Zoe."
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply before answering. "I'm trying," I said softly. "But it's not that easy."
How could it be? How do you forget someone you fell asleep next to every night? Someone who made you feel safe even when everything else was chaos? My mornings still started with his name in my mind, even when I didn't want them to.
Fredda sighed and stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was warm, grounding. "I just want you back," she whispered. "My friend. The old Zoe. This isn't you, and you know it."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Because she was right, and hearing it out loud hurt more than I expected.
If only I knew where Nero was. If I just had one message, one sign that he was okay, maybe I could finally sleep. But there was nothing. Just silence.
"You need to forget about him," Fredda said again, her tone almost pleading now. "Maybe he realised you two weren't meant to be together."
I looked up at her sharply, my voice barely above a whisper. "After everything? After all the promises he made to me?"
She didn't answer immediately. Then, with a quiet sigh, she said, "Men don't always keep their word, Zoe."
I refused to believe that. "What if it's not that?" I murmured. "What if he's hurt somewhere? Or fighting for his life? Or—" My throat closed up before I could finish. The images in my head were too much—blood, darkness, him lying somewhere alone.
Fredda must have seen the panic in my eyes because she just shook her head slowly, like she already knew it was pointless to argue.
"You know what," she said finally, walking to the locker area. "I'll talk to Helen for you. Why don't you go home and rest? Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow."
I blinked, not sure I'd heard her right. "Really?"
"Yes." She pulled out my handbag and pressed it into my hands. "Go. I'll cover for you tonight."
"Are you sure?" I asked hesitantly, my voice soft and small.
"I'll manage." She untied my apron with practiced ease and smiled faintly. "Just try not to think too much about him, okay? Rest."
I nodded, too tired to argue, too grateful to speak. "Thank you," I whispered.
After gathering my things, I waved to a few of the others on my way out. I knew Helen would probably blow up when she found out, but right now, I couldn't bring myself to care.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin. The streets were quieter now, with only a few pedestrians moving about. I clutched my bag tightly against my chest and started down the road. The short route home was dimly lit and narrow, but it was quicker.
Each step echoed softly against the pavement. My shoes clicked faintly, the sound steady but lonely.
The wind blew lightly, brushing against my hair as I turned the corner—into the path less used, the one that always made my heart race a little faster.
I just hoped that I would get home safely without those hoodlums harassing me.