The Rejected Burden: Rising From The Shadows

The next morning, Isadora woke up with a headache that throbbed behind her eyes. She saw Kingston's jacket hanging on her chair. It was dry now, but still smelled like him.

She checked the pockets before putting it in a bag for the dry cleaners. Her fingers brushed against something hard.

She pulled it out. It was a single cufflink. Silver, engraved with the Riddle family crest-a wolf holding a spear. She ran her thumb over the raised metal. It felt heavy, substantial. She put it in her jewelry box, right next to her pearl earrings.

She went to her office early. She had a board meeting at the company café.

Zoe met her there, slamming a coffee down on the table.

"He called me three times," Zoe said, her eyes blazing. "Asking where you were. I told him to go to hell. He's an idiot, Isadora. A blind, selfish idiot."

Isadora stirred her tea. "It's okay, Zoe. I'm over it."

"You can't be over it in a day."

"I can," Isadora said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, battered cardboard box. "I have to be."

Inside was a silver chain with a cheap heart pendant. Grafton had won it for her at a carnival when they were eighteen. She had worn it every day for four years until the metal started to turn her skin green.

Later that afternoon, Isadora sat with Alex, a junior analyst from her Econ department. Alex was nice. He had messy brown hair and a laugh that made his eyes crinkle.

"So, the elasticity of demand," Alex was saying, using a french fry to point at the financial report. "It's basically like dating. The more available you are, the less value you have."

Isadora laughed. It was a real laugh, surprising her. "That is a terrible analogy, Alex."

"But accurate!"

"Isadora?"

The voice came from behind her. Isadora stiffened. Her laugh died instantly.

Grafton was standing there. He was wearing a cashmere sweater, his briefcase slung over one shoulder. He looked tired. He looked at Alex, then at Isadora, his brow furrowing.

"Where did you go last night?" Grafton asked. "I looked everywhere for you."

Isadora turned in her chair. She didn't stand up. "I wasn't feeling well."

Grafton's eyes flicked to Alex again. "Who's this?"

"I'm Alex," Alex said, extending a hand.

Grafton ignored the hand. He stared at Isadora. "We need to talk. Come outside."

It was the tone he always used. The 'I'm the main character' tone.

"I'm busy, Grafton," Isadora said, turning back to her report. "We have a deadline."

Silence. Grafton stood there, stunned. Isadora never said no.

"Isadora, don't be like this," Grafton said, reaching out to grab her arm. "You're acting weird."

His fingers touched her bicep.

Isadora jerked her arm away. The movement was sharp, violent.

"Don't touch me," she said. Her voice was ice cold.

The chatter in the café stopped. People turned to look. Grafton recoiled as if she had slapped him. His face flushed red.

"Whoa," Grafton said, holding his hands up. "Okay. You're still mad about Bella. Look, don't be so petty, Isadora. It's not a good look on you."

Petty.

Isadora stood up. She reached into her bag and pulled out the cardboard box. She slammed it onto the table. It made a dull thud.

"I'm not mad," Isadora said. "I'm done."

"What is that?" Grafton asked, looking at the box.

"It's the necklace," Isadora said. "I don't want it. I don't want anything from you."

Grafton looked at the box, then at her face. Panic flickered in his eyes. "You're giving it back? Why? That's... that's ours."

"There is no 'us', Grafton," Isadora said. "I'm not your little sister. I'm not your mascot. And I'm definitely not your burden."

She saw the recognition in his eyes. He knew.

"Isadora, wait-"

"Let's go, Alex," Isadora said. She grabbed her bag.

Alex scrambled up, sensing the tension. "Uh, yeah. Let's go to the conference room."

Isadora walked away. She didn't look back.

Grafton stood there, his hand hovering over the cardboard box. He looked at her retreating back, and for the first time in his life, he felt a gnawing emptiness in his gut. She was walking away. She wasn't supposed to walk away. She was supposed to stay.

Across the street, a white Range Rover was parked. The window was down an inch.

Bella lowered her sunglasses. She watched Grafton staring after Isadora. She saw the desperation in his posture.

Her fingers dug into the leather steering wheel. Her perfectly manicured nail snapped.

"She has to go," Bella whispered.