Chapter 23

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A Note of Appreciation: Thank you all for supporting my work, be it only this story or every book I’ve uploaded. You have no idea how grateful I am for each read, vote, follow and when you add my stories to your reading lists or how my heart makes a little jump every time I see a new comment.

Thank you, my amazing readers, followers, voters and commenters; I wouldn’t be the same writer without you!

Love,

CatMint5

A/N: Some of you might wonder why I started this chapter with “A Note of Appreciation”, especially one that I’d sent as a message the week before. Well, that is because I know many of you don’t read those messages and I wanted to show all of you how much I appreciate everything you’ve given me.

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Alice’s POV

Caden was stroking my back. Maybe he thought I was asleep. Or maybe he didn’t realize he was doing it; it seemed to be a habit he had formed to reassure me.

If that was the case, he’d figured out that I was upset.

Had Galya told him anything?

He walked her to the door so she’d had an opportunity to do so.

Galya.

What a strange name. I think it was Russian; I do believe she’d mentioned her mother being Russian. That was one of the few things she’d said about her; one of the few things I knew about the redhead. Well, except for being extremely beautiful, smart, playful, talented… pretty much everything I was not.

I’d been playful once upon a time, before I got shot. I wondered if my friends thought I was boring now.

The first month or two, at the time when I cried myself to sleep and barely had the desire or energy to do anything but wrap myself tightly in a blanket and stay in bed, at that time, they didn’t think of me as dull simply because they were worried about me.

But what about now?

Now that I acted better (and felt it too) they’d expect me to be “the old Alice”, right?

I’d heard them make that division when they thought I wasn’t listening. “The old one” was the sweet and cheerful me; “the new Alice” was the depressed and boring girl that I currently was.

Such self-pitying thoughts I had tonight and all that because of a half an hour nap and a bad dream.

Or was that all there was to it?

When I first met the Russian girl as now I sometimes referred to Galya in my thoughts, I’d really liked her. I liked her open and cocky attitude, I liked that she was constantly smiling, I liked that Caden finally had someone as obsessed with art as he was, someone he could talk to.

But then he’d showed her his studio.

On her very first visit to our apartment, Galya had earned herself the privilege for a private tour in that tiny room my boyfriend called his atelier; the very same room that he very rarely let anyone else in. I had to admit: I’d gotten a bit jealous then. But later Galya had been so charming that I’d quickly gotten over that.

Bur why did Caden keep inviting her to spend time with us?

Yes, she was fun to be around – I really enjoyed the food fight at Alfredo’s – but they saw each other every day at school. Couldn’t he spend some time alone with me when we were at the apartment?

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