Indigo has the same blue hoodie I saw her in the other day, and a messy bun on top of her head. It doesn’t take a lot to see she’s a different person when she’s alone compared to when she goes out.

“Alright.” Enya breaks the silence, clasping her hands together. “Are you guys coming again tomorrow? I’m making Olivia’s favorite cookies.”

“Ooh, yes please!” Livy says.

The woman chuckles, patting the little one on the head.

We walk towards the door, Enya following us.

“Forgive Indigo,” the woman whispers, her eyes winning me over in an instant. “Give her some time to adjust to you.” She gives me a warm smile as I watch Indigo go back upstairs.

Indigo’s not even trying to look elegant, yet she’s the most graceful woman I’ve ever seen, looking ethereal in the dim light. The hoodie she’s wearing doesn’t lessen her femininity.

CHAPTER SEVEN

INDIGO

“I said I’m sorry, okay?” Olivia whispers.

My shoulders drop with a sigh. Being mad at her is the last thing I ever wanted. I don’t like it. Feels weird.

I know she’s right. She’s made me rethink my whole life, including whether I’m actually trying as much as I tell myself I am.

Going to a few charity parties a month and occasionally walking dogs is a good first step, sure, but I’ve been doing it for years and have gotten no further. It’s still challenging. Every hour I’m away from home feels like I’m eating pickles. And I loathe pickles.

Yet, looking back, I’ve made no progress. My social life is practically nonexistent. Probably the reason the date my mom chose for me the other day ran away mid-party.

I was having a good time and didn’t want to leave early for once. Turns out she paid him to stay with me for a couple of hours, knowing I’d be long gone after that. It was a little after two hours when he got up and left. Just like that.

At least Olivia sticks around.

“Okay,” I whisper to her, hugging my chest.

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The brief argument we had is still bugging her. It’s all over her face. No matter how much she attempts to hide it.

I was once in her place, and it wasn’t pretty. It got me where I am today. The knife that stabbed me three years ago, now twists in the wound my grandmother’s death left me with.

Liv slowly blinks as she watches me. “Can you just listen to me for a second?” she asks and I nod, getting comfortable on the couch. Olivia does the same, readjusting her position. “You need to get out more.”