Page 176 of The Bittersweet Bond

Milka.

Her best friend. The one who had betrayed her. The one who had interfered even though she knew how much Evin needed to keep her secrets buried.

Anger curled inside her like a shadow.

You had no right. None of you did.

Evin stood, walked to the center of the room, and pressed play on the speaker.

The piano melody filled the studio—melancholic, familiar. But it didn’t feel the same.

Before, she could lose herself in dance. The movements had given her structure, quieted her mind.

Today was different.

She lifted her arms, took first position. Her fingers tingled. With a deep breath, she launched into the choreography she had practiced countless times before.

Arabesque, turn, jump—

Every move was precise, but it felt wrong, like her body and mind were no longer in sync.

Why can’t everyone be like Ben?

The thought came out of nowhere, striking her like a slap.

Ben, the one who never asked, never pushed.

Ben, who had simply been there.

He had never tried to fix her, never made grand gestures.

He had just existed alongside her chaos.

She spun into a pirouette, the force behind it almost angry. When she landed, she stumbled.

Her knees hit the floor with a dull thud, her hands pressing into the wood.

Silence.

Only her breathing and the faint scratch of her shoes against the floor remained.

"Damn it," she muttered, barely more than a whisper.

She looked up at the mirror, caught her own reflection.

And there it was. Not just anger at Milka. Not just disappointment in Bas.

Anger at herself.

I pulled all of them into my mess. This is my fault.

She sat back, hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.

Her eyes drifted to her bag, where her phone peeked out of the side pocket.

Just the thought of Bas’s message made her heart tighten.

But the idea of replying made it hard to breathe.

---