I gave a small, derisive shake of my head. “I don’t feel shit for you. I don’t even like you. So love? Don’t make me laugh.”
I jerked my chin toward the chairs. “Nowsit down, dry your eyes, and stop making a fool of yourself in front of your father’s men.”
Pakhan let out a thin, humorless laugh. “Pathetic. But perhaps humiliation is the only language you understand.”
Tears flooded her eyes — bright, furious, and completely fucking broken.
She refused to look at me again. The silence between us snapped like a bone under my boot.
Then she turned and ran. Her sob caught in the air—raw, splintering—like a wound I couldn’t reach, let alone close.
Every violent instinct I owned screamed at me to chase her down, slam her against the nearest wall, and crush her trembling body to mine. To bury my face in her hair and growl the truth against her skin until she believed it:
I love you.
Everything I just said was a lie.
You’re the only thing stopping me from setting this whole fucking world on fire.
But I didn’t move.
I stayed seated.
Stared at my plate like it held the answer. Like it could anchor me through the storm I’d unleashed.
My jaw clenched so tight it ached. Fists knotted under the table until the bones creaked.
Just wait, Malaya,I pleaded silently, the words tearing through me.
Please, love. Just a little longer. Even if you hate every dark, rotten inch of me right now. Even if you wish I’d never touched you.
Don’t give up on me. I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours.
30
A Body Still Breathing
—Kira—
Iran, tears blurring my vision as I took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over the hem of my dress. My breath came in sharp gasps, my chest burning with each desperate inhale. The moment I reached my room, I slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and collapsed against it, my body giving out.
The sobs erupted before I could stop them—ugly, raw, uncontrollable waves that tore through my chest and left me hollow. My hands shook as I wiped at my cheeks, my nose, my mouth, smearing everything with the sleeve of my dress.
This couldn’t be real. He had to be lying. There was no way everything we’d shared meant nothing to him. No way he could look me in the eye, say those words, and mean them.
But it didn’t matter.
Because even if it was a lie—even if the whole thing had been some cruel performance—I still heard him say it. Still watched him laugh like I was a joke. Still saw the way he looked right through me, like I was disposable. Delusional.
The pain wouldn’t stop. It lived beneath my ribs, sharp and twisting, and no matter how tightly I wrapped my arms around myself, I couldn’t hold it in.
I slid to the floor, curling into a ball, and let the tears fall. I had no idea how long I stayed that way.
Eventually, I reached for my phone. I needed someone. Anyone.
I called Valeria.
“I could use a friend right now,” I said, my voice raw and cracking. “Can I come to your place? Can you pick me up?”
