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Eden lay huddled on her bed in the same spot she’d occupied for almost the entire day, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders like armour against the world. The silence of her empty flat, broken only by the occasional rumble of traffic from the street below, was both a sanctuary and a bitter kind of solitude. She stared blankly at the wall, her eyes puffy and stinging from an almost impossible amount of crying.
Her phone lay hidden in the depths of her wardrobe, deliberately discarded and silenced. She couldn't bear to look at it, knowing the screen would be lit up with missed calls and increasingly frantic messages. From the theatre, from her castmates, from Genevieve . . .
The thought of her runaway lover sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over her. Eden squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of the night before. The warmth of Genevieve's skin, the almost-feral passion in her touch, the way she'd looked at Eden as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And then the shock, the fear, the rejection that had followed Eden's ill-timed confession.
A sudden, loud knocking jolted Eden from her miserable reverie. She froze, hoping that if she stayed perfectly still, whoever it was would assume she wasn't home and leave. But the knocking only grew more insistent, now accompanied by a familiar voice.
"Eden! I know you're in there! Open up or I swear I'll call a locksmith!"
Eden groaned. Amanda. Of course it would be Amanda. Her friend had an uncanny ability to rob her of the chance to suffer in peace.
Dragging her sorry ass down the hallway and toward the front door, Eden muttered to herself that she maybe she needed new friends with less of a penchant for theatrics. She’d barely had the chance to take the chain off the door before Amanda burst inside, a whirlwind of patchouli perfume and righteous indignation.
"What the hell are you thinking?" Amanda demanded, not even bothering with a greeting. She stalked further inside and planted herself in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, glaring at Eden with a mixture of concern and exasperation.
Eden wrapped herself tighter in her blanket cocoon and flopped down onto the couch, wishing she could disappear into it entirely. "I’m not really in the mood for thinking," she mumbled, her voice hoarse from sobbing.
But Amanda was having none of it. She marched over to the couch and yanked the blanket away, ignoring Eden's protests. "Oh no, you don't get to hide from this. Do you have any idea what's been happening? The entire theatre world is buzzing about your disappearing act!"
Eden flinched at her words, a fresh wave of guilt washing over her. She'd been so caught up in her own emotional turmoilthat she hadn't stopped to consider the wider implications of her absence.
Amanda's expression softened slightly as she took in Eden's dishevelled appearance. She perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaning in close. "Honey, what happened? Everything’s been so good with you these past few weeks."
Eden swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I . . . I messed up, Mands. I messed up so badly."
Amanda reached out, taking Eden's hand in hers. "Surely it can’t be as bad as all this. Did something happen with Genevieve?"
The sound of Genevieve's name was like a knife to Eden's heart. She took a shuddering breath, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. "We were rehearsing late last night. And we sorta got carried away . . . like on the stage. And it was . . . God, Mands, it was magical. And Genevieve was looking at me like . . ."
She trailed off, lost in the memory. Amanda watched her beneath a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Like I was everything she'd ever wanted," Eden whispered. "And I thought . . . I thought maybe . . ."
Amanda nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You thought it meant something more than just the sex."
Eden nodded miserably. "I told her I love her, Mands. Like an idiot, I just blurted it out. And she . . . she completely shut down. She looked at me like I'd grown a second head, and then she just . . . left. Ran away like I had the plague or something."
"Oh, sweetie," Amanda murmured, moving to sit beside Eden on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry."
Eden leaned into her friend's embrace, grateful for the comfort. "I woke up this morning and just couldn’t face her. I couldn’t bear to watch her act like nothing had happened. So I just . . . didn’t. I turned off my phone and hid like a coward."
Amanda was quiet for a moment, processing every sordid detail. Then she sighed heavily. "Eden, I understand why you hid. I do. But do you have any idea the mess you’ve left in your wake?"
Eden looked up, confused by the accusation. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Amanda said slowly, "that you didn't just miss a regular rehearsal. You missed the tech run. The whole thing apparently went to hell in a handbasket without you there."
Eden's eyes widened in horror. "The tech run? That was today?"
Amanda nodded grimly. "And from what I've heard, it was an absolute disaster. And Genevieve . . . well, let's just say that people are saying they've never seen her so rattled."
The full weight of what she'd done came crashing down on Eden. She'd been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil that she'd completely forgotten about the tech run. The most important rehearsal before opening night, and she'd missed it entirely.
"Oh God," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "What have I done?"
Amanda rubbed her back soothingly. "It's bad, Eden. I won't lie to you. People are talking. There are all sorts of rumours flying around about why you didn't show up. Some people are saying you had a nervous breakdown, others are saying you and Genevieve had some kind of blowout fight."
Eden looked up sharply at that. "They know about me and Genevieve?"
