DANIELLE'S POV

I opened my eyes and winced, closing them back immediately. Everything hurt. Well, not everything. My head.

It felt like someone had taken a hammer and was drilling my head. With a wince, I pulled myself up and touched my head, expecting to feel the hole where the drilling was happening. I pulled myself off the bed and wobbled to the bathroom, pouring water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror and grimaced. My eyes were bloodshot, and I looked a mess. I swallowed back the nausea I was feeling and brushed my teeth very gently. Even the side-by-side movement my head was doing was causing my head to spin.

Why did today have to be a workday, and why did I have to drink that much? It was the first time I was consuming that much alcohol in one sitting. I hadn't even done that when I'd turned twenty-one, and the way I was feeling now was my assurance that yesterday was going to be the last time.

I went back to the room and got back in bed, paying attention not to wake Jonathan, who was sleeping. I glanced at the clock. It was just a little past 4am, which was enough time to go back to sleep, in my opinion. If my husband wasn't my boss, I would have called in sick, but unfortunately, I didn't have that pleasure.

I closed my eyes but couldn't get back to sleep, snippets of our conversation the night before reviving in my mind. Jonathan had known I had been searching in his room. Thankfully, he hadn't been watching me actually searching it, or I was sure he wouldn't have believed my excuse. What other thing did he know about me, and what was he hiding? He had overreacted to the fact I thought someone had been trailing me, which was a big red flag in my opinion.

I turned and studied Jonathan's sleeping face. Both awake and asleep, the man looked cold. But beyond that coolness, he looked a little adorable. His face didn't look completely peaceful, but at least he didn't look like he was carrying the world's responsibilities on his shoulders like he did when he was awake.

He mumbled something in his sleep, his once almost peaceful face getting troubled. I moved closer to him to try to hear what he was saying but was unable to catch anything audible.

I moved even closer, whispering. "What did you say?" There were some people that could answer questions in their sleep, when they were almost awake. I call it a vulnerable state since most answer instinctively without the usual guard they had on when they were awake.

"Ethan. What did you say?" He replied.

I frowned. That was his brother. Was he having a nightmare about his brother, like I usually had about my dad? I wasn't given a chance to answer that as his eyes shot open. I closed my eyes immediately, but not before he'd noticed me watching him.

"You're awake." He said, his voice deep and groggy with sleep.

I closed my eyes tighter, and when I didn't get any more response or reaction from him, I assumed he'd gone back to sleep and opened my eyes. I flinched. His eyes were directly on mine.

"Why were you pretending to be asleep?" He asked, and I shook my head, rather harshly, I would say. The nausea came back with a vengeance with that movement, and I gagged.

When I was sure I wasn't going to throw up on the bed, I turned to Jonathan, whose lips were pulled up in a smirk. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Horrible. Don't talk to me." I groaned, and he laughed. His laugh grated on both my nerves and head.

"You really went all out yesterday. Were you that scared of what I was going to ask?" He teased. "When last did you take anything with alcohol?"

I closed my eyes, trying to make my head stop spinning. "A while ago." More like never.

"Let me go and brew some coffee. I'll also make you some hangover soup. Will you be able to get ready?" He asked, and I nodded slightly.

"Thank you. Wait." I called.

He turned back, curious.

"Did you answer my last question yesterday? About what I saw in your room?"

He blinked and nodded. "Yes. You don't remember?" His tone sounded like he had expected it to happen. Which was why he had asked me, I assumed.

"Can you remind me what you said?"

He simply smiled and headed towards the door. "You should come out early if you don't want to feel miserable all morning."

I glared at his retreating back. Of course, he will not tell me. The jerk.

I got down from the bed and re-brushed my teeth, then took a hot shower. When I came back out, I felt remarkably better. I quickly put on my clothes and went downstairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee leading me like a zombie to the kitchen. I felt someone's eyes on me and turned to the living room, where Eleni was sitting and staring at me with a pensive look.

"Eleni." I called, and she flinched, meaning she had been lost in thought.

"Daydreaming this early?" I teased her with a smile, and the one she returned looked sad.

Ignoring my thirst for coffee, I headed to her and sat beside her. "What's going on? Why do you look so lost in thought?"

She blinked. "Nothing." She narrowed her eyes. "How about you? Why do you look like this?"

I sighed. "Don't mind me. I didn't know I was a lightweight, so I overindulged a bit yesterday. I'll feel better after a cup of coffee."

She nodded and repeated slowly. "Lightweight?"

I glanced at her, now remembering that English wasn't her first language. With her rapid improvement, I was beginning to forget.

"Lightweight means I get drunk very fast. Even with drinks with low alcoholic content."

"Ah. Okay." She responded, nodding her head. "You should go and get your coffee. You look like you don't feel too well. Your head."

I nodded. "Thanks." As I was standing up, I got a good look at her face and sat back down. I'd only noticed the sad smile, but not the exhaustion that seemed to weigh her beautiful face down. "Are you okay? You're up early." I narrowed my eyes. "Did you stay here through the night?"

She shook her head. "No. I woke up very early and didn't want to stay in the room." She gasped silently. "Am I getting in your way?"

I frowned at her. "What are you talking about? Is anyone complaining?"

She smiled, finally getting a little of her light. "No. Thank you."

I nodded at her, pursing my lips. "You're okay, though, right? If there's any change or any contact, you'll let me know, right?"

She nodded. "Of course. I'm going back to the room. I feel sleepy now that I've talked to you."

I smiled. "Of course. How can you talk to me without feeling better?" I remarked playfully. "Go back to sleep. We probably will have gone to work when you come out next, so don't forget to eat breakfast and lunch."

She nodded and stood up. "Okay. And have a good day at work."

I watched as she headed to her room and finally entered the kitchen. Jonathan was dishing soup into a bowl, and he turned when he heard me. "There's hot coffee in the mug." He slid the bowl to me. "Have this soup with it as well. What would you like for breakfast?"

I shook my head. "I doubt if I'll want to eat anything else. You can go and get ready. I can prepare a sandwich for you."

He nodded. "Alright. Thanks." I sat down at the table and took a spoonful of the soup, nodding in appreciation. It was going to go a long way in curing my hangover.

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I dropped my empty bowl and cup in the sink, dried my hand, and went to check my phone that was ringing. It was my mother. I smiled in pleasure and picked up the call.

"Hey, Mom." I greeted cheerily, a smile both on my face and in my voice.

"Hey, baby. How are you doing?" She greeted back, and I could hear the smile in her voice as well.

"I'm good. Is everything okay?" It was a little early for my mom to call just to say hi. It was just a little after 6am.

"Of course. It's just." She hesitated. "As I was rolling on the bed trying to sleep, it just occurred to me that it wasn't right that I was insisting on not leaving my comfort zone. For so many years, my routine has been my house to my shop to the mall and back to my house."

I could see where this was going, and I didn't like it. "It's not bad to have a habit or a set routine. I have one too. I can assure you that more than half of the entire population follow a strict routine as well."

Mom's lilting laughter rang. "I'm not saying there's anything bad there. I've just decided to spread my routine to other places as well."

My heart started beating faster. "Like where?" I asked, making sure my nerves weren't obvious in my voice.

"Isn't it strange that I still don't know where my daughter lives? Or work? I've been so self-obsessed that I was just content with you making the journey to come to me. I feel bad that I have never made the sacrifice to go to you. I'm sure you must have been thinking about it."

I shook my head. "No, Mom. Really. I totally understand you. It's not a sacrifice to go and see you, and I don't want you to see it like that. You don't have to come. Just say the word, and I'll be right by your side."

Mom chuckled. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for me, and there's no need to try to change my mind. It's made up."

I scratched my head nervously. "But like, aren't you busy? You always have a lot of customers."

"That's true, but I'm taking an off day tomorrow. A day for myself so I can rest in my home, but I'd like to come and see you this evening after your work, and I'll go back tonight so you can have enough time to prepare for work tomorrow rather than worrying about me." She paused. "I've missed you, you know?"

This was the moment when the former me was supposed to say, No, you can come over and stay until tomorrow. We can talk all through the night, and I'll still be fit as ever and ready to conquer the world tomorrow because I only gain energy when you're around, but I was married. And she still wasn't aware.

"Mom." I groaned. "I've missed you too, but that will be too stressful for you. You'll have to go to the subway, identify the train you're to take, and then take a long trip here. Then you'll go back when it's almost dark. I can just come over, and everything will be solved." I responded with my fingers crossed, literally.

Mom scoffed. "My mind is made up, dear girl. I'm taking a half day, then I'll rest a little before coming over. Send your address and directions to me, as well as when you'll be closing. You don't need to prepare anything. Wait, please don't prepare anything." She teased, taking a dig at my cooking skills.

If there was something I knew about my mother, it was that, even with her frailty, she could be very strong. When her mind was made up about something, there was nothing anyone could say to make her change it. The main factor in why she was still living in the home her husband was murdered in.

"Alright, Mom." I replied and dropped the call. I placed my head in my hands, thinking of what to do. I was in real trouble now.

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