Page 79 of The Encore’s Crown

The typing bubble appears so quickly I nearly gag.

For you? Always.

I stare at it.

Then:

Bring friends.

He sends back a flame emoji and something involving a tongue. Revolting.

Halcyon is packed and it's only ten o'clock. The club sits above the city beneath a glass roof, neon blue light and mirrored columns. Music reverberates through the floor. Suri has been vibrating with anticipation since we left work. She keeps checking the entrance, pretending she isn’t. When Ryder finally appears, she grabs my arm.

“Oh my God.”

He looks exactly the same. Designer jacket, perfect hair. Smile calibrated to suggest he’s pleased to see everyone while somehow looking directly at me. He hugs me first.

“Look who finally remembered I exist.”

“I remembered. I was busy, Ry. The world does not, in fact, revolve around you. Hard to understand, I know.”

He laughs like I’m flirting.

Suri introduces herself even though they have met at least twice according to her. Ryder gives her enough attention to keep her hopeful, then spends the next hour trying to talk around her to me. Every time she hooks her arm through his, he gently peels it away. I should feel bad. I do, a little but not enough to stop. We drink and dance. Melina drags us toward the center of the floor. I let the bass take over and move the way I know people like to watch me move. Heads turn and men find reasons to get close. One buys me a drink. Another tells me I have the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen.

Three of them give me their numbers. I type each one in while I stand there doe-eyed, like I’ve been gifted some enormous honor, then delete them the second they're out of sight.

I take photos. Suri is pressed against Ryder. Melina is throwing up a peace sign. I'm in the middle, smiling like Japan never happened. Ryder drapes an arm over my shoulders for the last one, pulling me against his side. I let him.

Then I post everything to my story. Proof of life. Proof that I’m totally fine, that Natalia Sawadzka doesn't fall apart over men who are too frightened to want her.

Twenty minutes later, I check the views. It’s automatic now, part habit and part business. Then I see it.

bomos_tra

Kiri's verified profile sitting between a cosmetics brand and some girl from my last temp job I barely remember. My entire body goes cold. I tap to the next story, our group shot. His little profile image appears beneath it with a heart.

He watched. He wants me to know he watched.

The club contracts around me. Music blurs into one long sound. Suri is saying something near my shoulder, but her mouth moves without sound. Ryder reaches for my waist. A drunk woman bumps into me hard enough to spill a drink, and I barely feel it. All I hear is blood beating through my ears.

He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to tell me it was nothing, then sit across the world watching me prove I survived him.

Watching changes people.

The words come back to me so loudly I nearly drop my phone. He still wants to be the observer, to watch me reacting because I know his eyes are on me. He wants me orbiting the fact of him, adjusting myself beneath his gaze while he stays safely out of reach. Just like Nagoya.

His fucking particle.

I try to inhale, but the air stops somewhere in my throat. The crowd melts into one motion. My fingers begin shaking so badly I have to grip the phone with both hands.

“Natalia?” Melina’s voice reaches me from very far away. “Are you okay?”

I can’t answer.

My thumb opens his profile. Photos of the tour. Stage lights. His bass. A shot from Osaka posted only hours ago. His face turned away from the camera, veil concealing that devastating smile I know so well. His hair is falling across his eyes like he has any right to look so beautiful after what he did.

I hit the menu.