I end the call slowly, lowering the phone from my ear as a strange wave of exhaustion suddenly crashes into me.

At first I think it’s just grief, stress or Lack of sleep but then dizziness hits me so hard the ground almost tilts beneath my feet.

I blink rapidly.

What the hell....?

My stomach twists violently and a sharp nauseating roll climbs straight up my throat so suddenly that panic flashes through me immediately.

Oh God.

I’m abut to throw up on Margarets burial ground. I press a hand hard against my stomach, breathing unevenly as another wave hits.

The smell of damp grass, flowers and the heavy scent of funeral roses. Suddenly everything smells too strong and too overwhelming.

I swallow hard against the nausea rising rapidly in my throat.

Nope. No no no.

I quickly turn away from the cemetery before anybody notices me looking like I’m about to collapse. My heels sink slightly into the wet grass as I move faster toward a quieter area farther behind a line of trees near the edge of the property.

My heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears as the nausea gets worse with every step.

By the time I finally reach a secluded spot partly hidden behind stone fencing and overgrown bushes, I barely make it before I’m bending over violently throwing up.

The force of it surprises me and a broken cough tears from my throat as my stomach empties painfully, tears immediately springing into my eyes from how hard I’m gagging.

"Oh God," I choke out weakly between breaths as another wave comes instantly.

I grip the cold stone wall beside me tightly for balance while my entire body shakes.

The dizziness is freaking awful

My throat burns and humiliation creeps in immediately because seriously? At a funeral?

Really?

I squeeze my eyes shut breathing hard through my nose afterward, trying desperately not to throw up again.

Then suddenly....a warm hand touches my back gently and I freeze.

Before panic can properly hit, another hand carefully gathers my hair away from my face.

"It’s okay love."

The quiet voice makes relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckle.

Zane.

I grip the wall harder while another smaller cough leaves me.

"What the hell," I whisper hoarsely, embarrassed beyond belief.

His hand moves slowly up and down my back.

"Easy."

"I think I’m dying now too."

That earns the faintest huff of amusement from him.

"Dramatic much?"

I glare weakly at the ground.

"I literally just threw up my organs."

I groan softly.

The cold air brushes against my damp face while Zane keeps my hair pulled back gently, his hand still moving soothingly across my back in slow circles. The simple touch grounds me more than he probably realizes.

After a minute, the nausea settles enough for me to breathe normally again.

Barely.

I stay bent forward for another few seconds anyway because honestly, standing up feels risky.

"You okay?" he asks quietly behind me.

"No."

His thumb rubs lightly against my back.

"You hit your head?"

I almost laugh weakly.

"What kind of question is that?"

"You nearly passed out at the funeral."

"I did not nearly pass out."

"You swayed."

"I’m grieving."

"You’re pale."

"I’m always pale."

"You look green."

I finally straighten slowly, wiping beneath my eyes carefully before turning toward him.

Big mistake...the dizziness rushes back immediately.

Zane catches my arm before I can stumble.

"Whoa."

"I’m fine," I mutter automatically.

He gives me a look that clearly says liar.

Up close, he looks worried now, actually worried.

His brows slightly drawn together while he studies my face too carefully.

"I’m serious, Elaine."

"I think it’s the stress," I whisper tiredly. "Everything is just... a lot."

That answer seems to soften him slightly.

Yeah.

A lot is probably an understatement.

Margaret’s funeral, the attack, the betrayal hanging over all of us.

It honestly would’ve been weird if my body didn’t eventually snap a little.

Zane brushes a thumb gently beneath my eye catching a tear I didn’t even realize slipped free.

"You should sit down for a minute."

"I’ll ruin my dress."

His mouth twitches faintly.

"Your priorities are really concerning."

I let him guide me carefully toward a small stone bench nearby anyway. The second I sit down, I lean forward slightly breathing slowly through lingering nausea while he stays standing in front of me.

Watching me.

"You scared me," he says quietly after a while.

I glance up.

"You literally got shot days ago."

"And somehow you still find ways to stress me out."

A weak laugh escapes me despite everything, then another strange wave rolls through my stomach again making me close my eyes briefly.

Immediately, concern sharpens across his face.

"El?"

"I’m okay."

"You keep saying that while looking seconds away from collapse."

"I just need water probably."

His gaze lingers on me another second too long.

Like he’s thinking and calculating.

Then slowly, very slowly...Something unreadable flickers across his expression.

His eyes drop briefly toward my stomach before lifting back to my face and suddenly...he goes very still.

I don’t think too much about the look on Zane’s face. Honestly, my brain feels too exhausted to properly process anything right now. So instead of questioning why he suddenly looks so intensely focused on me, I just rub tiredly at my forehead and try not to throw up again.

Zane pulls his phone from his pocket immediately.

"Bring the car around," he says calmly into it.

I blink up at him.

"What?"

He ignores me completely

"The side entrance," he adds before ending the call.

I stare at him

"Zane."

His attention shifts back to me.

"You’re not walking across that entire cemetery looking like this."

"I can walk perfectly fine."

"You almost passed out."

"I literally did not."

"You swayed."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You’re becoming annoyingly observant."

"And you’re annoyingly stubborn."

I cross my arms.

"The car is not that far."

"And yet," he says dryly, "the driver is still bringing it."

I open my mouth to argue again, but honestly? I’m tired. Really tired.

So instead I just sigh dramatically while he helps me carefully to my feet.

"You know," I mutter as we slowly walk toward the entrance gates, "normal people don’t order cars around for someone standing five minutes away."

"You married abnormal."

Unfortunately...That’s true.

The car pulls up less than a minute later. One of the security men quickly opens the back door for us, and Zane practically hovers beside me while I get in like I’m made of glass.

"I’m not dying Zane " I mumble.

"You look unconvinced about that yourself."

I roll my eyes and lean back against the seat.

The drive home is quiet, as rain red taps softly against the tinted windows while the city passes by in blurred gray streaks outside. My head rests against the seat the entire time while Zane occasionally glances toward me like he’s still checking if I’m about to faint.

It’s oddly sweet.....Overbearing true but still sweet.

By the time we pull through the estate gates, I already feel slightly better.

Or maybe just calmer.

The mansion comes into view looking just as massive and intimidating as ever, except now it feels emptier somehow and quiet without Margaret.

I swallow hard and climb out slowly once the car stops. The second we step inside the house, voices drift from the kitchen...luod voices voices, followed by laughter.

I blink in confusion.

"What the hell?"

Zane looks equally confused beside me as we follow the sound toward the kitchen and stop dead at the doorway.

"Tessa?"

Three heads whip around immediately.

Tessa squeals first.

"Oh my God, she’s back!"

Before I can react properly, she rushes toward me followed closely by June and Lila.

I stare at them in complete shock.

"What are you guys doing here

Tessa looks offended instantly.

"What kind of greeting is that?"

June folds her arms dramatically.

"Wow. We come to help and this is the thanks we get."

Lila points toward the kitchen island behind them where groceries are spread absolutely everywhere.

"We’ve decided to become housewives," she announces proudly.

I blink harder.

"What?"

Tessa’s expression softens slightly then.

"Well..." she says more quietly, "since Margaret is gone..."

The mood dips immediately and a small painful silence settles over all of us.

Then June clears her throat awkwardly.

"We couldn’t even attend the burial because security said no extra guests," she says softly. "So we figured... maybe we could help here instead."

Lila nods quickly.

"Somebody still has to cook for you people."

"And clearly none of you can survive independently," Tessa adds.

Emotion catches me completely off guard.

My chest tightens painfully while I stare at my three best friends standing in this kitchen trying to fill a space nobody really can.

That stupid ache in my throat returns instantly.

"Oh my God," I whisper.

Tessa immediately points at me.

"No crying."

"I’m not crying."

"You literally sound like you’re about to cry."