Twenty eight

Hazel.

My nerves were on edge, my palms sweaty, and my heart racing a mile a minute. "I'm not going," I declared, sinking back onto the edge of the bed, arms folded tightly.

Ann shot me a puzzled look, her head tilted in curiosity. "Not going where?" she asked, approaching me with concern evident in her eyes. She was already dressed for work, still assisting Amanda as her trusty assistant.

Sitting beside me, she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, offering comfort. Leaning into her embrace, I rested my head on her shoulder. "I just don't feel...right," I confessed, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. "It's like...this isn't what I want. Like it's not enough..."

"Not enough? Seriously? You're the creative director of Palm Angels! That's incredible!" Ann interjected, her voice filled with disbelief. I chuckled softly, acknowledging her point. "You're right," I conceded with a sigh. "But then what is it?" Ann prodded, her gaze searching mine.

"Andrey," I murmured, his name heavy on my t