Butterfly by Nelle L’Amour

CHAPTER 48

Sofi

Ihardly leave my room.

I spend most of my days crying and staring at the colorful butterflies I painted on the walls. The butterflies I wish could erase or paint over because they make me think of him. Oh God! How I miss him! Some days the heartache is so great, I want to tear my beating organ out of my chest.

Both my parents are very concerned about me. I’m hardly eating or getting enough sleep. And when I do doze off, I no longer dream of beautiful butterflies soaring or dancing. Instead, I’m plagued by terrible nightmares. In one, I’m a Luna moth, and someone is chasing me. Brandishing their net in the air. Whoosh. Whoosh. I flutter my wings madly trying to escape, but my predator picks up their pace and I’m caught! Held captive. A doomed prisoner in the mesh net.

In another, I’m a glorious Monarch, just like my old pet Buddy, and when I land on a sunflower, someone who sounds like Kendra cries, “Ha! Got you!” and clasps my folded wings between their hands, completely tattering them and squishing my tiny body. I wake up screaming as my sadistic captor tosses me to the ground and leaves me to die.

My compassionate mother encourages me to talk about what happened with Roman, but I tell her I can’t. It’s all so raw, complicated, and unfathomable. Thank goodness she lets it go though she checks in on me frequently, to stroke my hair or bring me homemade soup I barely touch. My dad stays away. I think he’s afraid he’ll lash out at me and tell me how inappropriate Roman was for me. He’s so right. And so wrong.

The only time I leave my room is to use the bathroom where I also take long hot baths. Buried neck-high in the sudsy water, dreaming of Roman, his strapping arms around me, his lush mouth on mine, kissing me everywhere as he pumps me with love. Reliving all the incredible memories I shared with him. The good and the bad. The tears and the laughter. All those unforgettable moments that randomly play in my head like a montage. Sadly, I don’t have one picture of him. Or of us together. Maybe it’s better that way. It’ll be easier to forget. Move on. Who am I kidding? The ache between my legs is as great as the ache in my chest and sometimes the only way I can deal with it is by relieving myself. Masturbation is merely a Band-Aid. The ache always comes back. It never goes away.

Perhaps what I need is closure. And for sure, I owe it to him. Two weeks after fleeing the city, I sit down at my childhood desk and find an old piece of butterfly-decorated stationary. Fighting back tears, I compose a letter. The words come from a place deep inside my heart.

Dearest Roman~

I am writing you because I need closure and believe I owe you the same.

Without getting into details, an unexpected twist of fate gave me no choice but to say goodbye. It’s impossible for me to ever see you again. Even as friends. Our love is in one word: Forbidden. Not meant to be.

I have a confession. I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. Yes, that bogus interview. And with each passing moment I spent with you, my love grew greater. Exponentially. We became like the wings of a butterfly—two hearts united by body and mind.

Soul mates.

Thank you for giving me the chance to work on your collection and for allowing me to do what I love to do most. Paint. The collection is extraordinary, beyond my wildest imagination, and I wish you the utmost success. And thank you for giving Vincent his first big break. Be good to him. He is a good person and deserves success too. I only regret he’s going to lose the bet we made. You and I will never be.

Every time I see a butterfly, I will think of you. Think of us. My heart will break and tears will fall. I will stay true to our original NDA. I will never tell anyone anything personal about you. Nor about us. I’m staying at my parents’ house until I recover and figure out what’s next.

Roman, just know you will always be my first love, my great love. My one and only Blue Morpho.

Forever~

Your Butterfly

Without rereading the letter, I fold it in half before tears fall and put it in an envelope with his name on it. I’m going to have my mom mail it to Vincent and ask him to hand-deliver it. I know he will.

Placing it safely out of the path of my floodgates, I bury my head in my arms and let the waterworks come.