Page 172 of The Bittersweet Bond

When she thought of the blood-soaked fabric, of his wounded arm, a sharp pain shot through her own—settling right where he’d been hurt.

The feeling that rose this time wasn’t guilt.

It was rage.

At Sergej, for having the audacity to defend himself like he was innocent.

A knock at her door made her flinch.

“Evin? Can I come in?”

It was her mother.

Go away.She wanted to scream it, but her throat felt too tight. She couldn’t even summon the strength to lie. Instead, after a long pause, she murmured, “Yeah.”

The door opened quietly. Her mother stepped inside, her footsteps careful, almost hesitant. Evin felt the mattress sink as she sat down. For a moment, neither of them spoke. But the silence was heavier than any words.

“I just wanted to check on you,” her mother said at last, her voice soft, full of concern.

Please don't…

Evin clenched her teeth.What am I supposed to say? That I feel like nothing? That I’m terrified people will think it’s my fault? That I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk into school tomorrow?

Her thoughts spun wildly, chaotically. Finally, she muttered, “I’m fine.” But the words felt wrong. Hollow.

“Evin,” her mother said gently, “it’s okay if you’re not fine.”

She hesitated, then continued. “I saw you leaving after the incident. Running. I... I don’t know what happened, but I can see that something isn’t right. And I want you to know you can talk to me. About anything.”

Anything.

I wish... I wish it would help.

Evin felt shame settle onto her chest, hot and suffocating.

What if she asks why I didn’t scream louder? Why I didn’t fight harder? What if she thinks it was my fault?

What if she’s right?

Her hands clenched the blanket.

“It was nothing,” she finally forced out, her voice barely above a whisper.

She couldn’t look at her.

How would she even explain something she had buried so deep, no one ever had a chance to see it? Not even the ones who claimed they knew her.

I handled this by myself. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.And now everything’s ruined—because Milka had to talk. Because Cat had to invite Sergej. Because Bas had to get involved.

Anger boiled up inside her, hot and suffocating.

No one was going to fix this. Not Bas. Not her mother. Not anyone. She’d have to carry it, like always. Forever.

Her mother stayed quiet for a moment, then gently placed a hand on Evin’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to push you,” she said softly. “I know some things are hard. But I want you to know that I’m here. And that there is nothing—nothing—you have to be ashamed of.”

Evin pressed her lips together, tears burning behind her eyes.

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