“Friend?” Zioh silenced me, his stare sharpening. His body went rigid, and his fists clenched tight. He glanced around, up, down, left, and right.
What happened to you, Zioh…
“What kind of friend are you talking about? Don’t be so arrogant, Tshabina—” His snarl stopped dead. Then he went still. His eyes went hollow, staring straight at me, making me flinch.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Sophie?” he hissed, voice so low, cold, and a shiver crawled along my body.
His eyes trembled, and he shook his head hard, his fists clenching tighter. My whole body shook at the sight of him like this, and I wanted to reach out and steady him, but I held back because I knew Zioh drew a line.
He showed me I shouldn’t be here.
“You have no idea how much you make me sick, Sophie,” he spat, his voice dripping with hatred. “You might have forgotten, so let me remind you.” Zioh rose, swaying as he staggered toward me, only to stop at the edge of the bed. His eyes remained fixed on me like daggers. “Even the sight of you turns my stomach,” he pressed, declaring his deepest feeling as if hammering it into me. “You are dead to me. Remember that.”
My body snapped in place, and the breath was knocked out of me, as if boiling water had just been thrown over me.
Enough.
He hated me,I knew.
I’d known for years.
I heard it, saw it, felt it. Since that night, he’d always show me how much he did, calling me words that had always circled me, until it had turned into a nightmare for years.
But why?
He never explained why.
He never gave Tsabinu or me even the slightest clue about what went wrong.
Not once.
Yet, even as he vanished, saying he was sick of me, humiliating me. There were still things he had never changed to prove it.
That was why I was here.
That was why I could stand beside him instead of everyone else. The one here was me—the one he swore ‘was dead’ to him.
Whether he realized it or not, Zioh kept pulling me back to his side, as though some hidden string still bound us.
As I started walking toward him, my vision blurred, and my breath quickened and grew shallow. Closing the distance step by step, I snatched the cigarette from his hand and tossed it aside. Then, I shoved him back, the force sending us both tumbling onto the bed.
When Zioh opened his mouth, I cut him off first. “My turn to speak now.”
I met his angry gaze with my own, soft and aching. “If you can’t stand me,” I said, my voice hoarse and trembling, “then at least change your emergency contact, Zi, so people won’t call me when you need help.”
Now my hands clutched the collar of his shirt, my fingersdigging hard as I searched his eyes. Pleasehearme. Pleaselistento my words, because I wasn’t sure I could say it again.
“Maybe you’re angry, maybe you hate me, maybe you’re disgusted with me or even with Tsabinu for things we don’t even understand.” I paused, drew in a breath, and closed my eyes for a moment. Then I spoke again: “But Zi, even after ten years, it’s only been you.”
I stressed the words, staring straight into his eyes. “We didn’t change. Only you, Zi.”
My voice cracked as my grip on his collar tightened.Listento me, Zioh.Lookat me.“We still care for you as much as we did then. So please, let us be there for you. Don’t suffer alone, Zioh…”
My tears fell then, streaming down and wetting his cheeks. We were silent for a second, and Zioh’s eyes changed. The cold, sharp gaze was replaced by trembling, watery eyes. His lips quivered for a moment. “Tshabina…” he whispered, as if he wascallingme. Until the next moment, I flinched hard because Zioh grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled me.
His lips met mine.
9
