"Yes."
He went quiet again, and the silence stretched between us, filled with wind, petals, and distant laughter.
My guards backed up a few feet, giving us more space.
Then Zo’s tears came, sliding down his face in two clean lines, inch by inch. "I don't know what to do."
I stepped toward him.
"I've never had someone so close to me die." His voice broke apart. "I don't even know how to act. I just saw her yesterday, Nyomi. I don't. . .I don't understand."
“I know. . .”
“Like there’s so many other people that could have died yesterday. Ethan in the fabrics department of Oshino is a narcissistic asshole. He should have died yesterday.”
“Uh. Okay.”
“Bob.”
“What?”
“You don’t know him, but Bob should have been killed. He’s a racist misogynist and his name is boring. Why is he still alive and Hiroko is dead?” More tears fell.
I walked over to him.
“Why?” Zo’s face crumpled.
I reached for him and his long arms wrapped around me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it.” Zo buried his face on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.” I pressed my hands flat against his back and held him as tight as I could. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s not fair.”
“It’s not.”
He left my hold and wiped his face. His pale skin was now blotchy and red. "I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay in that villa now with her gone. Will her ghost be in there?”
"You can stay in the main house. I'll make sure there's a room for you."
"Good. I can’t be alone. I'm so sad. I don't know what to do, Nyomi. I don't know what to do with this."
"Don't worry. I'll set it up."
We started walking again.
Slower now.
His shoulders were low and his eyes were fixed on the ground and every few steps he'd shake his head. He wiped his nose withthe back of his hand. "What am I going to do without Hiroko? After you, she’s my closest friend."
“We’ll. . .deal with this together.”
He pursed his lips and kept walking.
