“Hey, Carmichael, why don’t I take you to the performance later?” he teased. “Maybe some eccentric foreigners will take a liking to you. Who knows? You might finally find a way to make some money.”
I stared at him, unblinking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me react.
“Steven, Frank doesn’t seem to get jokes.” Margot softly reassured him, but when she turned to look at me, her face was full of ridicule. “Isn’t it something to be happy about if someone takes an interest in you? You didn’t know how to cherish chances in the past, and now you don’t even recognize one when it’s handed to you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving an empty, aching void in my chest. She had mastered the art of weaponizing her words, each one sharper and more devastating than the last.
For a fleeting moment, I thought of the Margot I used to know. She was the one who once begged me to give up music because she couldn’t stand to see me sacrifice everything for her. The Margot who had promised we’d tackle every challenge side by side.
But that version of her no longer existed.