“Hm. I believe the only people with the right to change something are the ones who deserve the do-over,” I answered him, removing my gaze from the table. “I would change nothing, but it doesn’t mean I will not correct everything.”
Then it was silent.
“You see,” I continued, “changing doesn’t have the same effect as correcting. Changing means losing yourself and the person you’ve grown to become; correcting, rather, is most effective because you get to grow into something better, you get to look back at the pastyou, and you get to own the pride for how far you’ve come. Our past makes up most of who we are; the future is much sweeter, but the present is where the work is, what you’re willing to do, to correct and to grow.”
I watched them let my words sink in. Almost two minutes flew by; everyone was lost in their own heads.
“Thank you,” Milk said, swallowing tightly. “You just answered a question I didn’t realize I had been asking all my life.”
“Me too,” Upper echoed.
Dog raised his beer bottle to me with a tight smile.
While Elia just stared at me with a frown, one that didn’t come from anger but concern.
“You’re welcome. Glad I could… help”—I paused a little before adding—“unintentionally.” I cleared my throat. “I shouldgo check on the missing member before I leave; I have Casmiro arriving today.”
“Oh yes, he told me he was flying in,” Upper said.
I nodded, getting to my feet as Milk commented to Upper about talking to Casmiro; it brought up a debate I tuned out, walking toward Zahra’s room, where Milk had gestured to early on when I arrived.
Standing in front of the door, I knocked three times.
There was no response.
I waited a few seconds before raising my hand and knocking again thrice.
When I got no response, I placed my hand on the knob, debating leaving it be or walking in without a response from her. Walking in would be rude; I would hate it if someone did that to me without waiting for a response…but she did the same to me a long time ago.
What if she needed help and couldn’t talk because she… she… had choked herself with the wire of a… hair dryer?
Accidents happen.
The option of leaving it be lost the debate, and I found myself twisting the knob and walking into the room.
She was on the bed, on her side, eyes closed, sleeping.
I closed the door behind me softly. My eyes took in the room. It wasn’t too big, but it felt and looked comfortable; the window was covered by a thin white curtain, giving the room a dark but light vibe that seemed comfortable for sleeping.
My gaze moved to Zahra again.
She didn’t cover herself, so I had a full view of her naked stomach. The tiny shirt she wore stopped just below her breasts, and her shorts were folded at the waist like they were oversized. Her legs were on display, lips parted slightly, breathing steady, lost in sleep.
Comfortable but careless.
I silently kicked off my shoes, walking toward the bed.
I stood right before her sleeping figure.
Dipping one knee into the bed, her body followed my weight, but she didn’t move.
I frowned, knowing how easy it was to overpower her this way. What if I hadactuallywanted to harm her? We would need to discuss this. It was one thing to sleep when necessary, but it was another to leave yourself completely vulnerable.
I placed a fist on the mattress beside her head, hovering above her, casting a shadow.
Apparently, that action was not enough to alert her—
Her eyes snapped open, unfocused, as her hand, with blinding speed, slipped under her pillow while her knees lifted, slamming hard against my stomach; I lost my balance. I was on my back, and she was straddling me, the cold barrel of a gun—mygun—pressing tightly against my throat. She unlocked it from the safety, but before she could pull the trigger, my hand forcefully swung hers away. The gun went off, the bullet shattering a vase by the side of the bed. She immediately brought the weapon back to me, about to hit me with the hilt, when I grabbed onto her wrist in midair.
