Chapter 11
The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over the room, illuminating the soft edges of Vi's profile. Her arm was draped over your waist as you nestled against her, your head resting on her chest. The steady rise and fall of her breathing was soothing, a rhythm that calmed the chaotic whirl of your thoughts. Her scent—a mix of motor oil, something musky, and a hint of soap—lingered in the air, grounding you in the moment.
Vi's apartment wasn't much, but it was hers. A cozy space filled with odds and ends, tools strewn about, and a worn leather couch that had clearly seen better days. It was simple, unpretentious, and real—everything you had come to associate with her.
"Hey," Vi murmured, her voice low and groggy. "You alright? You've been quiet."
You looked up at her, meeting those fierce, piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through you. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending like everything was fine, but lying to Vi felt impossible. She had a way of disarming you, of making you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, even when it scared you.
"Yeah, I'm okay," you said softly, tracing absent patterns on her arm. "Just thinking."
"Thinking, huh?" she teased, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "That's dangerous."
You laughed, the sound light but tinged with a nervous edge. Before you could respond, the sharp buzz of your phone cut through the quiet. The sound made you freeze, and Vi's brow furrowed as she glanced toward the device sitting on the bedside table.
"You gonna get that?" she asked, her tone casual but curious.
You sighed, reluctantly reaching for the phone. The screen lit up with your mother's name, and your stomach dropped. Taking a deep breath, you answered, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Hi, Mom."
"[Reader], there you are," your mother's crisp, authoritative voice came through the line. "I've been trying to reach you. We have some wonderful news."
"Wonderful news?" you echoed, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.
"Yes, darling. Your father and I have arranged a dinner for you with the Harringtons next week. Their son, Gregory, is such a lovely young man, and we think you two would hit it off splendidly."
Your heart sank. Of course. Another arranged date, another attempt to mold you into the perfect image of their expectations. The weight of their constant demands pressed heavily on your shoulders, threatening to crush the fragile independence you had begun to cultivate.
"Mom," you said, your voice tight, "I'm not interested in Gregory. Or anyone, for that matter. I've told you this before."
"Nonsense," she replied, her tone dismissive. "You're just being stubborn. It's time you started thinking about your future, about what's best for our family. Gregory is—"
"Stop," you interrupted, your voice firmer than you expected. "I said no."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. When your mother finally spoke, her voice was icy. "We'll talk about this later. Don't embarrass us, [Reader]." And with that, she hung up.
You stared at the phone for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Vi shifted beside you, propping herself up on one elbow as she studied your expression.
"Let me guess," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Another one of those fancy family obligations?"
You let out a bitter laugh, setting the phone back on the table. "Something like that. They've decided I need to start dating someone 'appropriate.'"
Vi's brow arched. "And by 'appropriate,' you mean...?"
"Rich, polished, comes from the right family," you said, your voice dripping with frustration. "Basically, the opposite of everything I want."
Vi's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. You could see the flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, maybe even doubt. She leaned back against the pillows, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"You told them about... us?" she asked quietly.
The question caught you off guard. "No," you admitted. "They don't know. They wouldn't understand."
Vi nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "Yeah, I figured."
You sat up, turning to face her. "Vi, it's not because I'm ashamed or anything. It's just... they're impossible to deal with. They have all these expectations, all these rules about what my life is supposed to look like. And you... you're everything they'd never approve of."
Her lips curled into a wry smile. "Well, that's not exactly news, is it?"
"Vi—"
"Look," she interrupted, her tone sharper now, though there was no malice in it. "I get it, alright? Your family's got their whole uptight, rich-people thing going on. I'm not exactly a country club kind of girl. Hell, I'm probably the last person they'd want you to be with."
You reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "But you're the only person I want to be with."
The words hung in the air between you, raw and honest. Vi's fierce eyes softened, and for a moment, the vulnerability you had seen glimpses of before shone through.
"You sure about that?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Because being with me? It's not gonna be easy. Your family's gonna fight you on this. They're gonna make you choose."
"I don't care," you said firmly. "I'm tired of living my life for them. I've spent so long trying to be the perfect daughter, trying to fit into their mold, and it's exhausting. I don't want that anymore. I want... this. I want you."
Vi's grip on your hand tightened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. "Well, damn," she said softly. "You're really gonna make me go soft, aren't you?"
You laughed, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Maybe a little."
She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Alright," she murmured. "We'll figure this out. Together."
The rest of the night passed in quiet conversation, the two of you sharing pieces of yourselves that had been hidden away for far too long. And as you lay there in Vi's arms, you felt a sense of peace that had been missing from your life for as long as you could remember.
The road ahead wouldn't be easy. Your family would push, and there would be moments when the weight of their expectations threatened to pull you under. But with Vi by your side, you knew you could face whatever came your way. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were living for yourself—not for your family, not for their approval, but for the things that truly mattered. And that made all the difference.