C19 ADALINE POV

Adaline Point of View

I stare at the woman before me. I expected someone older, with gray hair. I didn’t expect a woman who looks my age, maybe even younger.

“Hello,” she says, and I notice her accent. It’s French. So she’s perfect.

“I’m Celia, and I’ll be your friend throughout this session,” she adds. I stare at her. I’m a psychology professor, and here I am, needing therapy.

It’s been a few days since the fight at the park with Cyp, well, since I yelled at him and he just stood there, watching. He’s been extra careful around me since then. So has Zoe, like they’re afraid I’ll break. Only Ashley and her husband treat me normally, which is why I’m going to her place after this.

“My name is Aurora,” I say, glancing back at her. My eyes slide down her body, she’s wearing a black dress and matching heels. Her black hair is swept up into a classy bun. She looks comfortable. Expensive. Meanwhile, I’m wearing a jumpsuit and sandals. I really am going insane.

“What brings you here, Aurora?” she asks, leaning back in her seat.

“I think I’m going insane,” I blurt out. There’s no point in beating around the bush.

“I see. Why do you think that?”

“Because things that don’t make sense keep happening, with no explanation. And a few days ago, I was sure my boyfriend was trying to kill me.”

“That’s quite a lot to unpack, Aurora,” she says, crossing her legs. “Tell me about your boyfriend.”

I stare at her blankly. Why does she want to know about him? I said I was going crazy, and she’s asking about my boyfriend.

She sees the look on my face and smiles. “Humor me, Aurora.”

I shrug. “His name is Cyprus. He’s a businessman. We’ve been dating for over four years.”

“What does he do?” she asks, and I blink.

“He runs a family business. They deal in exporting and manufacturing cars, I think,” I add quietly. What does Cyp do exactly?

“I see. And you’ve been together for a while, so I assume you’ve met his family?”

I frown, then shake my head.

“None of his family?”

“They live in Romania. I spoke to his brother, Ronan, on the phone a while back, but that’s it,” I say, not seeing the big deal.

“Has he met yours?” Celia asks, looking at me.

“No. I tend to keep my family out of my relationships because they can be... a lot. They know I have a boyfriend, though.”

“Just never met him,” she finishes, and I nod.

“Tell me about your family. What do you mean when you say they can be ‘a lot’?” she asks after a moment of silence.

I lean back, getting comfortable.

“There’s just my parents and me. I do have extended family,” I say, phrasing it carefully. “They tend not to mind their business. They’re always overly interested in my love life, always sure there’s someone better for me.” My thoughts flicker to Alexandru, just as a flash of pain tears through me.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I glance at her and plaster a perfect smile on my face. I nod, waving away her concern.

“Don’t you think,” she says, “that’s a red flag? According to you, you’ve been dating for quite some time. People date for half that time and get married.”

“A red flag? That’s not a red flag. I just want to spare him the baggage that comes with meeting my family,” I say, and she nods.

“That’s your reason, your justification for him not meeting your parents. What’s his?”

“I don’t know. It never came up in conversation, I guess.” I shrug, my mind drifting.

“Why were you so sure your boyfriend wanted to kill you?” she asks, and hearing the question out loud makes me feel more insane.

“He’s just... occasionally weird. And I collapsed in school last week. Then there was this strange woman in my room, talking about the end of the world and how it rests on me. A week before that, some men were chasing me. My best friend and I got drunk, and I thought I saw witch-like women chanting something.”

“Then there’s this weird prickle on my finger, I know there’s more to it than meets the eye. And the insane pain I’ve been feeling. And finally, my thoughts keep flashing to Alexandru. It’s like I feel him, like he’s so close. And that thought is driving me insane.” I exhale in frustration.

“That’s a lot to unpack, Aurora,” she says. “Walk me through it.”

“You’ve been seeing things, hearing things, and feeling too much. It’s made you feel insane and paranoid, enough to believe your boyfriend is out to get you.”

I nod. “You phrased it well.”

“And physically, you don’t feel okay, your finger, the pain in your body.”

Again, I nod.

“Tell me about Alexandru,” she says. I visibly flinch, his name sending heat down my spine and glance at the wall clock. An hour has passed.

“Maybe next time,” I say, knowing full well it’s a lie. I am not going to talk about him.

“Alright. You should know that when you’re mentally down or frustrated, simply put, when the mind is troubled, it affects the body. The pain and fatigue you feel might be a result of that,” she says, and I nod. My mind may be troubled, but that’s not the reason my body is tired.

“Alright. See you next week,” I say, standing up, eager to be out of here.

“You should do something nice for yourself this week, a self-care day. Your good deed of the week could be to yourself. Be a little kinder to yourself, Aurora,” she says, and I nod, feeling all over the place.

__

Be a little kind to yourself, Celia had said.

I don’t know if ice cream and hamburgers count as self-care, but here I am, stuffing my face with vanilla ice cream and greasy burgers.

I should be at Ashley’s right now, enjoying her home-cooked meal and secretly wishing I had what she and Daniel have. But instead, I’m sitting on a bench, watching New York unfold.

There’s something about this place I love. The feel of it. The chaos that never ends. The fact that, if you listen closely enough, there’s always a siren in the distance.

It’s the city that never sleeps. The music, the greasy, unhealthy food, the constant, deafening noise. God, I love this place. I used to love this place.

So why does it feel different now? Why does it no longer feel like home?

All my life, I’ve wanted a home. A home in someone. A place where I belong, where I love and am loved. That’s what I thought New York was to me. But here I am, on a sunny day, sitting on a park bench and feeling so empty, so lost, so out of place.

God.

I feel the tears welling up and shove them back down, scooping another bite of ice cream. I won’t be that girl crying in public.

I glance to my left, and there she is. A girl already crying at the far end of the bench. Looks like the position’s taken.

“Hey.”

I hear, then turn to my right. A woman with blue hair is staring at me. There’s something about her, familiar, yet strange. I’m tired of feeling.

“Hello,” I say, taking a large bite of my burger. I wonder if she can see the mess I am, if my pathetic state is that obvious to a stranger.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she says.

I shrug. Maybe it is. But all I can feel is the gloom in me.

“What’s your name?” she asks. I look at her again. She’s wearing a plaid skirt and a baggy top with combat boots. She gives off goth girl vibes, but I know she isn’t one. Her blue hair cascades down her back, and she’s effortlessly beautiful. When she turns her head, I see a tattoo on her neck. She does have a certain... something. A vibe I wish I had.

“I’m Aurora,” I say, taking another bite of my burger and offering her the extra one I had planned to eat on my way to Ashley’s.

She smiles, takes it, unwraps it, and bites into it, an even larger bite than mine. Then she grins at me. And I realize, she’s every bit the mess I am.

“Hi, Aurora. I’m Blu,” she says with a smile.

Blu.