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I hang my head as I grab my bag and make a beeline towards my car. My phone dings and I smile as Layla’s name appears on the screen.
Layla: Are you late because of daddy kink?
Layla: Say yes and I’ll pay for lunch for a week.
Layla: It can even be a lie. Just say yes.
I smile and shake my head. Despite being a devout Muslim who prays five times a day, fasts during Ramadan, drinks no alcohol, has no sex before marriage, and eats no pork, Layla has the wildest fantasies, I swear.
What I love about her the most is that she isn’t afraid to let those fantasies show or to even joke about them. She also doesn’t judge how others live their lives as long as they don’t judge hers. She’s never once tried to apply her beliefs on me. Back at uni, she accepted me the way I was, scars and all, and never probed hard about my past.
The first time she brought me to her home for Eid and her family welcomed me to their table, as if I’d always belonged there, was when I found some sort of balance after struggling with it for so long.
Aurora: No.
Layla: You’re so cruel. How could you kill the fantasy so brutally? *crying emoji* X3
Biting my lower lip, I type.
Aurora: But I am sore.
Layla: I knew it!
Layla: Details, mate. Details! You can’t keep me hanging like that. The suspense is killing me here.
Aurora: I’ll be in the office in a bit.
Layla: Fine, I’ll be productive until you come. By the way, why did you leave early yesterday? Are you okay?
The memories of Stephan and the panic attack I had nearly assault me all over again.
But since Jonathan flipped me on my stomach and fucked me so thoroughly, those have been the least of my worries.
Go figure.
Ever since the day I walked into that police station and uncovered the murder of not only one woman but seven, he has been in the forefront of my mind.
He has been the first thought I wake up to every day and the last thought I sleep to every night.
Until last night.
Actually, it started after Jonathan taught me in the roughest way that my body is, in fact, not dead.
I slide into my car and place my bag on the passenger seat. When I lift my head, I’m startled by the shadow perching against my window.
Aiden. His features are still closed off like earlier. If anything, his quarrel with Jonathan seems to have turned him angrier.
Swallowing, I lower the glass. The low sound echoes in the deafening silence.
“I want you gone,” he says ever so casually, as if it can be done by merely giving a vocal order.
He’s Jonathan’s son, all right.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Just disappear like you’ve been doing so well for the past eleven years.”
“I understand that you don’t like this situation, I don’t either, but —”
