The Rejected Burden: Rising From The Shadows

The rain was relentless. It felt personal, like the sky was trying to wash her out of existence. Isadora took a step off the curb to look for a cab, and her right foot slipped on an oil slick.

She flailed, catching herself before she hit the ground, but her right heel snapped. The shoe came off, skittering into a puddle of black water.

"No," she whispered. "Please, no."

She stood there, one foot bare on the freezing asphalt, the other in a broken shoe. She kicked the broken one off. Being barefoot was better than the imbalance. The pavement was rough and gritty against her soles.

She pulled her phone out. The screen flickered green, then went black. Water damage.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to preserve whatever body heat she had left. She was shaking violently now.

A pair of headlights cut through the darkness. Twin beams of white light that illuminated the falling rain like diamonds.

A black car slowed down. It wasn't a taxi. It was the same custom sedan from before.

Isadora tried to step back into the shadows, shame burning in her chest. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. Especially not Kingston's people.

The car stopped right beside her. The rear window rolled down halfway.

Kingston Riddle sat in the back. The interior light cast shadows across his sharp cheekbones. He looked at her-at her wet hair, her ruined dress, her bare feet standing in the gutter.

He didn't look pitying. He looked angry. His jaw was set tight.

The driver was out of the car in a second, holding a massive black umbrella. He opened the rear door.

"Miss Dyer," the driver said. "Please."

Isadora shook her head, her teeth chattering. "I... I can't. I'm wet. I'll ruin the leather."

"Get in," Kingston said. His voice cut through the sound of the rain. It wasn't a suggestion. "Don't make me say it twice."

The authority in his voice triggered an automatic response. Isadora ducked under the umbrella and scrambled into the back seat.

The door closed, sealing out the noise of the city. The silence inside was absolute. The air was warm and smelled of that same cedar and gin scent.

Kingston pressed a button on the armrest. The partition between them and the driver slid up, turning the glass opaque. They were in a private capsule.

He looked at her shivering form. Without a word, he unbuttoned his suit jacket. He took it off and leaned over, draping it around her shoulders.

The jacket was heavy, warm, and lined with silk. It engulfed her. Isadora pulled the lapels tight against her neck, burying her nose in the fabric. It smelled like safety.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, water dripping from her hair onto the pristine leather seats. "I'm making a mess."

Kingston ignored her apology. He opened a small refrigerated compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. He cracked the seal and handed it to her.

"Drink."

Isadora took it, her hands shaking so much the water sloshed. She took a sip.

Kingston watched her for a moment, then reached into a storage cubby near his door. He pulled out a small white box.

He set it on the console between them and opened the lid.

Inside was a single vanilla cupcake with white frosting. It looked simple, almost out of place in the luxury car.

Isadora stared at it, then up at him. Her mascara was definitely smeared under her eyes. She must look like a raccoon.

"It was supposed to be dessert at the dinner I just left," Kingston said, his voice flat. "I doubt you ate."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver lighter. He flicked it. A small flame danced in the dim light. He held it over the cupcake, pretending there was a candle there.

"Make a wish," he said.

Isadora looked at the flame. It reflected in Kingston's grey eyes, making them look almost silver.

She thought about wishing for Grafton to love her. But the memory of the word burden rose up, choking her.

She closed her eyes. I wish to be free of him. I wish to find myself.

She blew out the imaginary candle. Kingston snapped the lighter shut. The click was final.

"Happy Birthday, Isadora," he said softly.

He pushed the box toward her. Isadora picked up the cupcake. She took a bite. The frosting was sweet, melting on her tongue, chasing away the bitter taste of champagne and bile.

She ate the whole thing in silence. Kingston didn't speak. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, giving her the privacy to eat like a starving person.

The car slowed to a stop. Isadora looked out the window. They were at her apartment.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was stronger now.

Kingston didn't open his eyes. "Keep the jacket. The driver will walk you to the door."

Isadora hesitated, then opened the door. The cold air rushed in, but she was warm inside the oversized suit coat.

"If you need anything," Kingston said, still not looking at her, "you know where to find me."

Isadora stepped out. She watched the taillights of the sedan disappear around the corner before she turned to face her empty building.