My Last Seven Days On Earth Started With A Broken Promise Chapter 03

My Last Seven Days On Earth Started With A Broken Promise Chapter 03

I crawled into bed after throwing up and burned through the night with a fever.

I dreamed of the Moon Court first: the magnolia tree, the cool air beneath it. Then my parents, facedown in blood.

Not once did the three of them show up.

Muffled voices outside my door pulled me awake around noon the next day.

The fever had backed off, but my limbs still felt like they’d been filled with lead.

I grabbed my phone and checked the date.

Five days left.

I opened my notebook.

[Third wish. See Nolan’s finished painting, The Lunar Spirit and the Stars.]

Six months ago, Nolan had submitted it to a national exhibition for emerging artists.

He’d called me his muse. Said he was painting a lunar spirit perched among the stars.

He’d promised to hang it in our future home once the show was over.

I washed my face, changed, and went downstairs.

The living room was empty.

Empty bottles and torn gift wrap from last night’s celebration littered the coffee table.

I headed out and took a cab to Nolan’s private gallery.

The gallery was closed to the public today.

Through the glass doors, I could see Nolan at his easel, palette in hand.

Tessa sat across from him on a tall stool, sunlight pouring through the skylight and turning her edges gold.

I pushed the unlocked door open and walked in.

The door chime rang out, bright and sharp.

Nolan’s brush froze mid-stroke. His expression soured the second he saw me.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t bother hiding the irritation.

I didn’t look at him. My eyes went straight to the painting.

My painting. The Lunar Spirit and the Stars.

The stars were still brilliant. The white rabbit was still there.

But the girl sitting among them had been completely repainted. The face that used to be mine was gone.

In its place was Tessa’s.

Even the carrot in the spirit’s hand had been replaced with a bouquet of roses.

My heart dropped.

I stepped closer and hovered my fingers over the canvas, tracing the outline of what used to be me.

“Why did you change it?”

My voice was barely above a whisper, but in the empty gallery it carried.

Nolan set down his palette and wiped his hands on a rag.

“The composition wasn’t working, so I changed it. Problem?”

Not a flicker of guilt.

“You said it was for me.”

I turned to face him. My eyes burned, but nothing came.

Tessa slid off the stool, came over, and looped her arm through mine.

“Mari, please don’t be upset.”

“I just loved the painting so much, and I needed something for my room. Nolan offered to let me have it.”

“You know I’m hopeless with art. I just wanted a little piece of his talent around me. You’ve always been so generous: dresses, bags, everything. You wouldn’t mind parting with one painting, right?”

She blinked up at me, all wide eyes and sweet smiles.

She wasn’t wrong.

Over the past four years, whenever Tessa wanted something, Reid and the others made sure I gave it up. Dresses. Jewelry. A guaranteed spot in a grad program. Even the cat I’d raised for three years.

“I don’t mind.”

I slipped her arm off mine. My own voice startled me with how steady it was.

“If it’s hers now, you should at least finish the job.”

I walked up to the canvas.

Before Nolan could move, I reached up and tore a small piece of canvas from the lower right corner.

A tiny white rabbit was painted there, easy to miss if you didn’t know to look.

It was the signature he used to hide in every painting, just for me.

The canvas screamed as it tore.

The sound hung in the gallery like something that couldn’t be taken back.

A ragged gap stared out from the corner, ugly as a scar.

“Are you insane?!”

Nolan lunged and shoved me back.

I didn’t have the strength to catch myself. My body hit a paint bucket by the easel and went down with it.

The bucket tipped. Paint of every color flooded across the floor and splattered up my white dress.

He didn’t even glance at me. He went straight to the painting, running his fingers along the torn edge, his face twisted.

“Do you have any idea how many hours I put into this? And you destroyed it because you’re jealous?”

“God, the jealousy on your face right now. It’s pathetic.”

I braced my hand against the paint-slicked floor and pulled myself up.

The edge of the bucket had sliced my palm open. Blood ran into the paint until I couldn’t tell which was which.

I held the scrap of canvas tight, the little rabbit pressed against my bleeding palm.

“This part is mine. I’m keeping it.”

“The rest is all yours.”

I didn’t look back. I walked out of the gallery with paint drying on my skin and my dress ruined.

Behind me, Nolan was still yelling. Something about how I’d lost my mind.

I pulled out my notebook and crossed off the third wish.

It didn’t matter.

I’d be shedding this human form soon enough. A little more pain wasn’t going to change anything.