Page 13 of A Virgo's Muse
I held up the bag and flowers. “You weren’t at the studio.”
She leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded. “You just happened to be in the area?”
I smirked. “Nah. I was coming to see you.”
A beat passed. Her eyes dropped to the flowers then back to me. “How’d you get my address?”
I didn’t blink. “I did my homework.”
She stared for another second. Then she shook her head, chuckling to herself, signaling to me that I hadn’t completely lost her yet.
“Come in,” she said softly, stepping aside.
I walked in slow, soaking her in. The apartment smelled like lavender and clean linen. Art supplies were everywhere. Canvases, open paint jars, and sketchbooks were scattered across her dining table. She lived like she breathed color. Even her chaos was beautiful.
She took the food and flowers without a word, setting them on the counter. I noticed her hoodie slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing soft skin and a small birthmark shaped like a crescent moon.
“You eat today?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Well, sit down. I brought you dinner.”
She hesitated then pulled out a chair. I opened the containers, watching the way her face lit up just from the smell.
I kept watching her but not in that surface-level way. I watched the way her eyes moved, the way her breathing shifted between silence and tension, the way her fork had been resting still in her hand for the last five minutes with untouched food in front of her. Desire hadn’t said much, but I could see the weight of everything she hadn’t let fall in her mannerisms
When she finally looked up at me, it hit me. The white of her eyes were red, and her hazel-green irises looked dimmer than usual. Her body sat still, but her thoughts were pacing loudly and restlessly. I could hear them without her speaking a word.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” I murmured. She didn’t respond. “You been crying too.”
She blinked hard like she didn’t want to give me that, like her silence could shield her from being seen. But it was too late for that. I already saw her. I saw every cracked piece she tried to seal shut with a smile and some soft-spoken strength.
I leaned in closer, my voice low but firm. “Your thoughts are too loud, Desire. Let it out.”
She looked away. “It’s just… a lot.”
“Then give it to me,” I said with no hesitation. “Whatever you carrying. Whatever you been holding in to keep from falling apart, I’ll take it. You don’t gotta wear that armor with me.”
She shook her head, and I assumed it was not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t know how. That kind of vulnerability didn’t come easy, especially not for someone who had to be strong for everybody else.
After a moment, she spoke. “It’s my parents,” she said in a small voice. “My mom’s sick… Alzheimer’s. And she’s fading faster than I can keep up. My dad’s there with her at the home, but he’s tired too. He don’t say it, but I see it in his face. And I’m the only one. They only have me.”
She rubbed her eyes hard, almost like she hated being seen like this. “I took today off ’cause I couldn’t fake it anymore. I needed to breathe without worrying about someone else.”
I didn’t say anything. I just let her speak. She wasn’t done.
“My studio… After the fire at my childhood home, I fell behind. I put everything into fixing what I could. Thought the art would carry me. Thought I could work through the chaos like I always have.” Her voice cracked. “But the late notices keep coming. The mortgage is stacking up, and I keep pretending like it’s all under control.”
“And you?” I asked.
Her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”
The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
“You won’t have to keep carrying that,” I told her.
She looked up finally. Her eyes were glossy and confused.
