“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Sorry—what were you saying?”
“Lucas was telling you he named the puppy Oreo.”
“That’s great.” I rubbed my bottom lip, buying time. “That’s a great name.”
When Lucas finally went to bed, the apartment settled into a hush that felt too loud. Nyah and I sat across from each other on the couch.
I rolled up my sleeves and leaned forward. “Nyah… I’d like to know a little more about you.”
Her eyes flickered.
I swallowed. “Something. Anything about your past.”
She leaned back, folding into herself. “Well, you already know I’m an orphan. And you’ve met Harper.” Her fingers fidgeted with the buttons of her blouse. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “What else would you like to know?”
“Where you grew up,” I said carefully. “What your childhood was like.”
I set my mug down, untouched, and waited.
“I’m originally from Manitoba,” she said. “I was raised in fosterhomes. I came to Vancouver when I was eighteen. It seemed like a good place to build a future.”
She stood and walked toward the kitchen.
I hesitated, then asked, “Why did you wake up so terrified that night?”
She stopped mid-step.
“I know it wasn’t just a bad dream,” I continued, rising to my feet. “Something’s going on, Nyah. And I want to understand.”
Her back was to me. Her shoulders were rigid.
I stepped in front of her, searching her face.
Her muscles were tense, her eyes evasive. “Honestly, it’s nothing. It’s not important,” she said matter-of-factly, trying to move past me. “It was just a dream.”
That wasn’t enough.
I blocked her path, dragging a hand through my hair as frustration pounded in my ears. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you,” I said, my voice breaking through restraint. “And somehow… you still don’t trust me. Not after all this time. Not after everything we’ve shared.”
She startled at my raised voice, taking a step back.
“I introduced you to my family,” I went on. “My friends, but you still can’t tell me about your past, and what’s haunting you. I’ve tried to be patient, hoping you’d open up when you were ready.” I turned away, then back to her, pointing without meaning to. “But you’re so damn closed off. Your walls are always up when it comes to anything to do withyou.”
A deathly silence descended over the room.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Do you even have emotions? Do you even let yourself feel things, Nyah? When was the last time you cried? Did you feel anything when Harper got married? When Beth said those things about you?” My throat tightened. “Did you feel anything at all? Anything?”
She set the mugs down with controlled precision. When she looked at me, her eyes were hard. “So what is it?” she asked coolly. “That I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve? That I have trust issues? Or that I haven’t told you every detail of my past?”
“All of it,” I snapped, heat flaring. “Yes. All of it.”
She folded her arms. “If you feel that way, I can’t help it. I’ve never forced you to tell me anything. I’ve never demanded explanations. And I expect the same respect.” She stepped closer, her voice quiet but cutting. “You don’t need to know anything about me that doesn’t affect you—or our friendship.”
Friendship. The word lodged in my chest like glass.
“So that’s how you see this?” I asked, shaking my head slowly. “I give you everything, and you are selective with what you say?” I searched her face, my voice breaking despite myself. “I just wanted to understand you. I want to be there for you. Is that really too much to ask?”
“No, it’s not too much, but my past isn’t important,” she said. “And it has nothing to do with you.”
