- The Old Book
Adina sat in front of me, composed yet expectant, her hands gently clasped in her lap. Her eyes held a patient warmth, though I could sense the intensity lurking just beneath her composed exterior.
It was all fake.
“How have the transfusions been?” Her voice was soft, careful.
I inhaled slowly, trying to calm the residual storm inside my chest. The echo of Rowan’s hurt-filled gaze lingered stubbornly.
“Yesterday was my last one. I’m still shaky, but it’s manageable.”
Adina offered a slight, reassuring nod.
“That’s good to hear. Are you ready to talk about Kaven today?”
A heavy weight instantly pressed down on my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I hesitated, fingers tightening involuntarily on the fabric of my pants.
“If I do, will this finally be over?”
Her eyes softened further, yet stayed unwavering.
“That entirely depends on you, Mavis.”
I released a long, tremulous sigh, feeling vulnerable as memories tugged at the edges of my mind. I just wanted this to be over.
“Kaven was my childhood best friend. Over time, our friendship became… something more complicated.”
“A romantic relationship?” she asked quietly, jotting down a note.
“Yes,” I answered simply, my voice strained.
“Did you love him?”
“Yes, but not in the way he wanted me to,” I confessed, feeling exposed by the stark honesty of my own words.
“What held you back from fully reciprocating his feelings?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, frustration bleeding into my voice. The rattling in my skull began—a warning sign I knew too well. A chill crept down my spine, anticipating the pain.
She leaned slightly closer.
“You blame yourself for your father’s death, for your mother’s worsening condition. Could it be that you believed yourself unworthy of love?”
My breath caught sharply, the rattle intensifying into a harsh sting. Sweat prickled on my forehead as pain flared behind my eyes. I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain composure.
“I couldn’t,” I gritted out, “love him… it would’ve caused too much pain.”
The stinging ebbed briefly, leaving behind a trembling ache.
“Whose pain were you more afraid of—yours or Kaven’s?” Adina’s question hung quietly in the charged air.
“Kaven’s,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Why?”
“Because I was poison to him!” I burst out, my voice cracking with raw, overwhelming emotion. “I’m mold, a toxin that spreads and destroys. He deserved someone better—someone who could genuinely love him. Someone who wasn’t broken beyond repair.”
Adina sat back slightly, allowing space for my words to settle. “Do you still believe you’re undeserving of love?” she asked, gently coaxing me toward the truth I was reluctant to face.
