“That’s not how it works,” she said, her voice quiet.
I didn’t understand her stubbornness, but I wasn’t going to let Anja’s hesitation stand in the way of our happiness. It was a problem I could fix. She just didn’t realize it.
“Don’t you love me?” I asked.
“Just because I love you, it doesn’t mean we can be together. Not like you’re asking. Even though it sounds like a fairytale.” Her voice caught in her throat, and I could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
I felt triumphant. Shedidwant to be with me. “If you love me, then trust that I will find a way to make this work,” I said. “Can you do that? Can you just…trust me?”
Finally, her eyes locked on mine. I saw the glimmer of hope there, and felt a surge of emotion go through me, my chest swelling.
“I trust you,” she said. “But…I need some time. Okay?”
I swept her into my arms and kissed her, holding her tightly. I never wanted to let her go.
And if I had my way, I wouldn’t have to.
When she left a few hours later, she had agreed to think about my proposal, just as I had promised to fix whatever problems she was afraid of encountering. I was on top of the world. My whole life was ahead of me, my future bright, and now I’d have Anja at my side.
I still felt that way when I got a text from her a few days later saying we needed to talk. I was certain she was ready to officially say yes, so I rushed over after school, making a stop at home first to grab the engagement ring I was eager to slide onto her finger.
But when I arrived at the apartment KZ Modeling had set her up in, I found it empty. Completely stripped bare. Besides the sparse modern furniture that had been there when she moved in, I found none of her books, no clothes, not even a toothbrush. Even the many vases of fresh flowers that I had delivered to her place each week—which she never threw away—were gone. It was as if she’d never been there at all. None of the other models who lived in the building or on her floor could tell me anything. None of them knew where she had gone.
I texted her and called her, but there was no response.
Unsure of what to do, my adrenaline pumping hard, I got in a cab to go see the one man who had the power to fix anything—and everything. My father.
When I arrived at his office in the KZM building, it was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.
“Anja Borjan is missing,” I said, not caring that I was out of breath. “And everything of hers is gone from her apartment. Something’s not right. I talked to a few of the other girls, but nobody knows where she went.”
“Yes, I know,” my father said disinterestedly.
He had never been a warm man. Never been especially kind or fatherly, but the coldness in his voice at that moment stopped me in my tracks.
“Wait—you knew about this? So where is she?”
He glanced down at the paperwork on his desk, barely paying any attention to me.
“She’s been deported.”
It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. I sank down in a chair, my knees failing me.
“How? Why? We need to get her back,” I told him.
My father shook his head. “She was here illegally. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But I’m in love with her,” I said, the words coming out of me in a rush. It wasn’t how I had envisioned telling my father about our relationship, but there wasn’t time for that now. “I’m in love with her and I’m going to marry her, so her immigration status won’t be a problem. She’ll be a full citizen.”
My father looked up at me, his gaze hard as diamonds. “You think I didn’t know about your little tryst?” he asked. “You think I haven’t known about every single one of my models you’ve fucked around with?”
I flinched at his words. “This is different,” I said. “Anjais different. I need you to get her back.”
He smiled, and I finally felt myself relax. It was going to be okay.
And then he spoke.
“Why would I get her back?” he asked. “I’m the one who had her deported.”
