Where Sara settles things
*Sara*
Right after I sent the girls with Dam to the airport, I set about fulfilling my promise.
Every day I visited each of the girls in their apartments. Not that I found it too burdensome to communicate with Louis or to collect the packages that arrived for my friends. The hardest part was finding the right key and not getting things mixed up. But honestly, the volume of mail that came to Ella’s address was too much for even me to handle. Every day there was a letter—from an unknown sender, packages, flowers that I had to carry to Adele or to myself, because Elizabeth's apartment would have turned into a botanical garden. I wanted to call Nicolas and forbid him from tormenting me.
One day, I was climbing up to Ella’s apartment after a tough day. I was worn out from rehearsals and had to cancel a date with a guy I was starting to like. My mood was obviously not the best. I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but when I reached the right floor, my eyes widened in shock. Leaning against the door was Nick himself, dressed in a brown leather jacket and wearing black sunglasses with wavy hair, looking exhausted as if he hadn’t slept at all. The guy was speaking in a grave tone to an imaginary interlocutor. I froze on the stairs.
— …I shouldn’t be here, but please, we need to talk. You misunderstood everything. I beg you. Let me in, — thankfully he didn’t notice me, and I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, but eventually, I couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing. The guy immediately straightened up and stared at me in surprise.
— Sorry to interrupt, — I said through my laughter, — but she’s not here, and you were so sweetly apologizing to the door, — and I laughed again, climbing up the stairs and inserting the key into the lock. — I won’t bother you, continue if you want. And I closed the door right in front of his nose.
But a second later, he rang the doorbell, and I had to open the door again.
— Where’s Ella? — his voice sounded confused and anxious.
— As you can see, she’s not home, — I replied curtly.
— Can you be more specific?
— Not in Milan… I can’t say anything more because they’ll beat me up, — and I was ready to bet that would happen.
— And what are you doing here? — the guy stepped inside a bit insolently and squinted.
— Watching over the apartment, — I thought it was obvious, but of course, Matthieu was asking this to keep the conversation going and find out more. He was silent for a moment and then unexpectedly shifted his gaze to my slim figure and asked:
— Do you like Måneskin?
— I… well, yes, — he caught me off guard.
— I'm acquainted with them, — what a twist!
— Are you serious? — I swear, sparks lit up in my eyes. The guy nodded.
— I really liked their latest album.
— Are you kidding? I was thrilled!
And we started talking about bands, rock music criticism, favorite songs. At some point, Nick asked:
— Do you think I can be forgiven? — I hadn’t thought too much about the question itself, so without hesitation I replied:
— I think so. The sea will do her good, and the company is nice… — I turned to him, gasped, and covered my mouth with both hands.
— Sara, please, tell me where they are, — his tormented look sent chills down my spine.
— They’ll kill me, — and I even knew a couple of ways they could do it.
— I won’t tell them anything, I promise, — I merely shook my head in denial.
— No, I can’t, — I boldly looked him straight in the eyes, but as soon as our eyes met, I flinched.
I remembered Philippe, who had once looked at me in the same pleading way, it felt like it was in a past life, and then I finally blurted out:
— Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, I’ll send you the address.
Nicolas stared at me in shock. After a few minutes of silence, the guy rushed towards me and hugged me tightly:
— Thank you, Sara, thank you!
— You can’t put thanks in your pocket, — I replied, — you owe me tickets to the Måneskin concert.
— No problem, anything you want, even an introduction to them, — and Nick just dashed out of the apartment, leaving me with an uncomfortable tingling in my chest and wide eyes full of surprise.
When I left Ella’s apartment, I noticed a pile of letters on the dresser that I’d collected over this time. It would be wrong to leave them here, so I found a suitable box, stuffed the letters into it, and, closing the door behind me, headed to the nearest post office.
On my package was a sticker that read “Express delivery,” and next to it was the printed address. I walked home feeling a sense of duty fulfilled. I think Ella had to read this. And I also think that today I absolutely pulled a stunt.