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That night, I finally found salvation.
I’d used sudoku in Australia to run from the shadowy sickness of my grief.
And without noticing, I did it here.
I used the income and expenses of a crime lord to forget.
I lost myself all over again but this time...
I remembered who I was.
What I was.
And who I belonged to.
Neri.
I belonged to Neri.
As long as I remembered that...I wouldn’t be entirely lost.
As long as I remembered her, I stood a chance...
Chapter Forty-Three
*
Aslan
*
(Heart in Nepali: Mu?u)
*
One year...
“YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME!” CEM growled as the door swung open, and he stalked into my room.
I paused mid push-up, sweat dripping off me, my shoulders and biceps burning, my stomach flexing to keep me balanced in a one-legged plank.
“Get the fuck up.” Cem planted himself in front of me. “Now.”
I pushed upright. Thanks to my much-improved core strength, I easily sprang to my foot, balancing on one leg, refusing to use that fucking walking frame or dust-covered wheelchair.
I wasn’t dead yet.
I refused to fucking die.
By his hand or mine.
The only one who could hate me was me.
The only one who could be repulsed by my body was me.
And if I chose to do the opposite?
If I chose to accept my limitations and work with them, then wasn’t that a better use of my time?
