Page 40

"There is no arrangement." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "Not anymore."

"Anna." Her patience is thinning. "You and Lenzin have a responsibility to each other and to your families. We've invested years in this future, and I will not stand by while you allow sentiment to derail it."

"Sentiment,” I repeat the word slowly, tasting its bitterness. "You mean his happiness."

"I mean his obligation."

My hand tightens around the phone. "Lenzin is my best friend. One of the most important people in my life. I love him more than almost anyone. But I have never been in love with him, and he has never been in love with me."

"That's irrelevant."

"It's the only thing that matters." I'm standing now, pacing the unfamiliar bedroom. "He's found someone he actually loves. Someone who makes him happy in a way I never could and never wanted to. I'm not going to sabotage that because you and Father decided years ago that our marriage would be convenient."

"This isn't about convenience. It's about stability, legacy, and honoring the commitments our families have made."

"Commitments Lenzin and I never made." My voice rises. "We're not chess pieces. We don't owe you a marriage just because it fits your plans."

"Anna, you're being childish."

"I'm being honest." I stop at the window, staring out at the lake. "You want me to fight for him. To compete with Hildy. To convince him he's making a mistake so I can drag him back into an arrangement neither of us wants. I won't do it. Not to him, and not to me."

"You're letting your pride⁠—"

"This isn't pride." My anger sharpens, cutting through the careful restraint I've spent years perfecting. "This is me refusing to ruin my best friend's life because you can't accept that he's chosen someone else."

Silence. Then, quietly, "You're making a mistake."

"No." My hand is shaking. "I'm making a choice. And if you can't accept that, if you can't let Lenzin and me live our own lives without turning us into another family transaction, then maybe I won't come home at all."

The words hang in the air between us. I've never said anything like that before. Never drawn a line that clear.

"Anna." Her voice is tight. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

Another silence, longer this time. When she speaks again, her tone is controlled, distant. "We'll discuss this when you're thinking more clearly."

"I'm thinking perfectly clearly. Goodbye, Mother.” The call ends. I lower the phone and stare at it, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My throat is tight, my hands still trembling. I've spent years smoothing over disagreements, managing expectations, keeping everyone comfortable. Now I've just threatened to walk away from all of it.

I sit back down on the edge of the bed, the phone still in my hand. The room feels different now. Smaller. Like the world outside has pressed in closer.

"You okay?"

I look up. Reznik stands in the doorway, barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt clinging to his shoulders. His hair is damp, and he's holding a mug of coffee. He's watching me with quiet attention, a question in his seriously hot face.

"My mother called," I say.

He nods, pushes off the doorjamb, crosses the room, and sets the coffee on the nightstand beside me, then sits down. "Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But the weight of what I've just said is still settling, and I'm not sure how to carry it yet.

Reznik doesn't push. He just sits here.

CHAPTER 8

STAY