She looked like she was about to cry.
And his chest twisted more tightly at the sight of it.
“Mira—”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just please...go.”
She wanted him to go.
And he should go.
For both of their sakes.
But instead he found himself snapping at her.
“Stop hiding behind such childishness.”
She shook her head. “I’m not—”
“For days now,” Zacharie snarled, “I’ve clearly done something to upset you, but you insist on acting like a child by pretending—”
“You were the one who pretended first!”
Her voice cracked on the accusation, loud enough to echo off the empty walls.
“Pardon?”The word came out in French, sharp with disbelief.
Her gaze flew up to his, finally meeting his eyes, and the moment their gazes collided he realized it was a mistake to want this.
Because now there was no unseeing the tears blurring her vision. No ignoring the way her whole body trembled with the effort of holding them back. No pretending he hadn’t done this to her somehow, broken something fragile without even understanding what.
“I know I’m a burden to you,” she whispered.
“So what?”
The words were already out before he could stop them, and he only realized that honesty was not always the best policy when he heard her choke back a sob.
“C-Can you please just go?”
Mira looked as if she was only seconds away from shattering into pieces, and it was all because of him, a man whose social skills had been honed for interrogation, not comfort. For extracting information, not offering solace.
He tried to think of something else to say.
But he could not.
He wanted to cross the distance between them and pull her into his arms.
But he could not.
He wanted to say and do what was right.
But he could not.
Because it was also at that moment he recalled the only memory he had of his father.
And it was of his father offering his youngest son Zacharie as collateral to a rival gang.
Not because he was the most precious.
