Chapter 444: The Weight of Desire
Sophia’s mother’s gaze lingered on her hair.
It was a look that made Sophia freeze in place. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her chest even without seeing her mother’s eyes.
"You need to make sure your hair is like mine," her mother said softly, deliberately. There was no harshness in the words, but the command carried the sa gravity as a storm.
Sophia nodded.
She had always envied her mother’s hair. It was long, black, and free-flowing after all. The kind that seed to hold power in its strands. Beauty radiated from it, and Sophia had felt that radiance, burned with it, envied it for as long as she could rember.
Her own hair was not like that. It was... she didn’t even know the real color of her hair, but it did not matter. As long as it could look like her mother’s, then she didn’t care.
Her mother’s voice was quiet but deliberate. "One’s hair is a sign of what kind of woman they are. A woman of strength, of beauty, of... attention. If you want friends, if you want people to see you, you must have hair like mine. No one will notice you otherwise."
Sophia swallowed hard as she absorbed her mother’s words.
She had been jealous for years. Jealous of her mother. Of everything about her. Of the way people turned to her, the way her hair shone even in the dullest light.
"I’ll send a hairdresser for you, once you recover. They’ll need to touch it up so more so it can look like mine for a long while," her mother told her.
"Will I... can I go out after my hair is done?" Sophia asked softly.
Her mother’s face remained vague. Still. Indistinct. Like smoke in the corner of a dim room. Sophia could not make out the features clearly, could not trace the exact lines of her jaw or the shape of her eyes, and that lack of clarity made her chest tighten.
Her mother said nothing. She just stared for what felt like minutes, and even hours, to Sophia.
Sophia swallowed then, her throat dry.
"I... I’m sorry," she whispered again.
Her mother scoffed lightly. A sound like air escaping a tight space. "If you apologize constantly, soone would think they were bullying you," she said. Her voice was low, with a tinge of annoyance. "I will think about it. Only if you get well on your own, and only if you do as I say. Only then."
Sophia’s lips parted, a soft nod coming out as if it had been pulled from the depths of her lungs without her will.
"I... I’ll do as you say," she murmured. Her voice was small and shaky. Barely more than a breath.
Her mother muttered, almost to herself, "We’ll see."
And then she was gone.
The door clicked softly, and then silence reclaid the room.
Sophia exhaled, long and slow, and the tension that had coiled her stomach and chest slowly unwound.
Sleep took her almost imdiately.
It wrapped around her in slow, heavy folds, warm and consuming.
---
When she opened her eyes again, she was sowhere else.
Sowhere... familiar, and sowhere she did not enjoy being because of the sll of herbs, but preferred it to that room anyway.
The nightshade pack’s dical facility.
The sll of herbs pressed against her nose. The room was warm, and a hearth cackled as wood burned in it.
She was in a bed. Sheets tucked tightly around her, soft and clean.
She sat up slowly when she noticed Orion was right next to her.
He was sleeping beside her, head resting on the bed while the rest of his body leaned against a chair. One arm draped across the edge of the mattress. His hair, soft, wavy, falling over his forehead in careless strands, along with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Sophia’s hand moved on its own. She reached out, fingers brushing through the strands. She liked how soft his hair was. She did not want to wake him, and yet the motion of touching him felt like it anchored her to the world again.
He stirred imdiately. Eyes fluttered open. Sleep pooled in the corners.
"Hey," he murmured, voice low, rough with sleep.
Sophia was about to reply when she froze. Her hand flew to her mouth instinctively, just as the feeling overtook her.
Her stomach clenched violently. Her chest heaved.
Orion’s eyes widened imdiately. He was quick. Before she could react further, he was standing with a bucket in his hands.
"Here," he said softly, extending it to her.
She took it imdiately and vomited.
The substance was thick and black. Her throat burned. Her stomach clenched as though it were emptying her entire body at once.
Orion stared at her with a flicker of amusent.
"Do you hate seeing my face that much?" he asked her.
Sophia was about to reply when the feeling overca her again. Her hands tightened over the edge of the bucket. Her stomach rolled. The bile burned, black and bitter, but the sensation only seed to grow stronger.
She doubled over, head resting near the edge of the bucket. Another wave of black liquid spewed from her mouth, leaving her trembling, chest heaving, lungs gasping for air.
Sophia paused and tried to calm her breathing. She glared at Orion, who smiled back at her.
"I’m not happy you find this amusing," she told him.
"Are you sure you should be speaking yet?" he asked her. "What if you throw up again?"
Sophia opened her mouth to tell him that it may likely not happen again when the sensation overca her.
She doubled over again, hands trembling as she held the bucket, as the sa substance made its way out of her body through her mouth.
Orion chuckled and gave her a bowl of water, but Sophia shook her head.
"We should probably wait just in case. Fourth ti’s a charm, after all," she told him.
Orion laughed at that. "I’m sure that’s not how it’s said."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"But did you really throw up because of my face?" he asked.
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