Page 75 of Never Enough

The other students start to shuffle out, their whispers filling the room, but Victoria stays seated, her stare unwavering. I can’t read her. It’s like she’s looking at me but also through me, lost in whatever thoughts are racing behind those eyes.

I gather my harp and music sheet. There’s tension in the air, heavy and unspoken, making me want to escape this room, this building, this moment. Still, I can’t move just yet, not while Victoria’s looking at me like that.

We remain frozen in place, locked in a tense standoff. Her expression is neutral, but I can practically feel the wheels turning in her head as she evaluates me. Then, without a word, she abruptly stands and leaves me behind.

As all Whitmores do.

Chapter thirty

Alex

I’m not coping well. Who the fuck would when they lost the love of their life?

So, like any damaged man who realized his mistakes too late, I created a fake social media account to stalk Daphne.What?One cannot taste heaven and simply pretend it never existed.

And, I know, I know, I could have followed her when we were together, but I fucked up, okay? Unfortunately, I’m not a time traveler, but I am Bex Trivesta, a twenty-five-year-old interior designer who attended WU two years ago.

Don’t worry, I made this Bex persona up, so it’s not like I’m stealing anyone’s identity. My sole aim is to watch Daph’s social media secretly after she blocked my actual account.

I tap the screen, and Daphne’s world flows silently into mine. Her harp dominates every post. Notes I can’t hear but feel. It’s in how she uses a filter that turns everything wistful, like a melancholy rainy Sunday. There’s even a picture where her short hairspills over the harp, dark waves against polished wood. I want to touch it, to twist a lock around my finger.

I screwed up. That hair that was once mine to caress is now just pixels on a screen.

The couch dips, a sign I’m not alone anymore. Victoria must have barged in. No knock, no warning. Typical of my sister, but I don’t mind. I’ve always craved my family’s attention.

“You need a shower,” Vic says with a wrinkled nose. I haven’t showered since the breakup, but I don’t care. Washing oneself hardly feels essential when one’s world is crashing around them.

See? If I hadn’t created Bex Trivesta, I’d be a thousand times worse.

“Later.” My thumb slides over Daphne’s image, unwilling to break the connection.

“Still pining, huh?” Victoria snatches the phone from my hand before I can react.

“Give it back.” I reach out, but she’s too quick. Her eyes already scan the screen.

She raises a brow. “Spying on Daphne?”

“Isn’t that what we all do, spy on one another?” I try to snatch the phone again, but she dodges, swiping through Daphne’s melancholy digital footprint.

Victoria shifts next to me, making the couch groan under her weight. She turns, all sharp eyes and sharper tone. “Explain it to me. Help me better understand.”

I feel the weight of her gaze, heavy like a verdict. “I’m in love with Daphne,” I confess, and it’s like setting a fractured bone—painful but necessary. If only I’d done it sooner, I wouldn’t have lost her.

“Love?” Victoria scoffs, her disbelief slicing through the air.

“Yeah. It was never about that with Celeste. It was status, expectations,” I say, my voice a mere whisper, admitting truths I’ve buried deep. “Not with Daphne. Sh-she’s passion and kindness. She doesn’t give a d-damn about any Whitmore legacy.”

Vic ignores my stuttering. Unlike most people, she’snevermade fun of me for it. “Is that why you’re stalking her online?” Her voice is acid, burning away pretenses.

“S-stalking is a strong w-w-word.” I wince, even as I defend myself.

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “What’s so special about her?”

Using the tips I learned in my SLP sessions—Speech, Language Pathologist—I take a deep breath and focus on each word to help from stuttering. “Sh-she’s real. Fights for what she loves. Her music… I-It’s her entire world.” I can see Daphne in my mind, her fingers dancing on the strings of her harp, each note a piece of her soul. “She had nothing, you know? Parents that should’ve caredbut didn’t. Yet she’s out there, living her dream, making it happen against all odds.”

Victoria shifts, her legs tucking beneath her as if bracing for impact. “Remember that picture she posted? The one with some guy in bed with his face hidden?”

“Hard to forget.” My stomach knots, a mix of regret and nostalgia. We took that picture after we made love for the first time. Her roommates, my sister included, were all either out of town or at internships once we came back from the hotel, so Daphne and I spent the entire day in bed watching soap operas, drinking wine, and making love.

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