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She knew she should start asking questions. Why would the media care about an ordinary Greek guy like Nik? Why should she keep it a secret? Why did Nik never tell her that he was engaged?
Those were the questions Daria had the right to ask, but she couldn’t. Her mind was still reeling, and her heart had come crashing down since those first two words from Miranda.
His fiancée.
Nik was talking now, murmuring something under his voice. If Daria had been able to think straight, she would have done her best to listen.
But she just couldn’t. Her mind was barely functioning, and her heart...no longer felt.
Suddenly, she realized Miranda was talking to her. “It was nice meeting you, Daria.”
The other woman offered her hand to shake, and Daria took it. Miranda’s hand was dainty as the rest of her, and Daria couldn’t release it fast enough. A silly part of her believed she would end up crushing the other woman’s china-fine bones if she held on to it too long.
She watched Nik watch Miranda walk away and thought, I was wrong. Her heart could still feel, after all, even if it was just pain.
Nik’s head turned towards her. “Shall we sit?” His voice was flat, his handsome face giving nothing away.
Her heart hopped back into the rollercoaster, like it couldn’t help doing so, like it wanted to just keep going down.
Nik moved to pull the chair back for Daria, but she shook her head and quickly took a seat before he could do anything else. It was the first time she had rejected him in any way, and his lips tightened.
Reclaiming his seat, Nik waited for her to speak. Talk, he thought. Talk, damn you.
But she didn’t.
He could feel guilt tightening its grip on him as the silence lengthened, and self-loathing rose inside him. This was insane. Daria was to blame for this. She had been the one to start it, with all her goddamn lies, and he had only finished it for her.
So why the fuck did looking at her made him feel like he had run her over?
“Stop acting,” Nik heard himself grit out.
Daria’s eyes became bright at his words, and his anger intensified. He hated her, but he hated himself more.
“You’re no more a helpless victim than I am.”
Looking at him, hearing him speak, Daria realized dully that Nik hated her. For whatever reason, he hated her—-
Dooooown, down, down—-
She could feel her heart staggering, and it was begging her to put an end to everything. To just walk away and move on.
But she couldn’t.
“W-who are you really?” Daria knew that Nik would think her question was meant to figure out where he was coming from, figure out why he hated her so much.
If only, Daria thought numbly. But the truth was more pathetic. She had asked simply because she wanted something to hold on to, something to convince her mind and heart that she could still feel this...for him.
“Do you really not know?” The way he spoke, the way his unimpressed gaze raked at her, told Daria without words just how much Nik despised her, and she wanted to weep at it.
Nik waited tensely for Daria to answer. Tell the truth for once, damn you. Give me a goddamn sign that you’re not beyond salvation—-
But Daria only shook her head in the end, and everything in him died, hopes that he hadn’t even realized he had crumbling at Daria’s continued deception.
Goddamn. Beautiful. Liar.
“How long have you known who I was?” Daria knew she should insist on finding out the truth about him, but she no longer had the energy to. Who he was didn’t really matter. It never had from the start. She had only asked because the question was a distraction, but now she knew there was no avoiding the truth.
“I’ve known from the start.” Nik uttered the lie tonelessly. Realizing Daria would not change – would never stop lying – had made him dead inside, and only pride kept him in his seat, determined not to let Daria have the satisfaction of finding out she had indeed succeeded in fooling him, even if just for a short time.
