Page 177 of The Bittersweet Bond

After a long moment, she reached for her phone anyway, her fingers trembling slightly.

She scrolled through her contacts.

Paused.

Then stopped at Jonas’s name.

Her lips pressed into a tight line before she typed:

Evin

Hey. What are you up to? I need to talk.

She hit "Send" and let the phone fall from her hands.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.

The music kept playing, but she barely heard it.

The silence of the room wrapped around her, but it couldn’t quiet the voice in her head.

He’ll answer. Jonas will answer. And then?

What am I even going to say? That I’m sad? That I’m disappointed? Or that I'm lost?

When scrolling through her contacts, she had hesitated at Ben’s name.

But it hadn’t felt right.

With Jonas, though… That old, familiar sense of safety was still there.

And right now, she needed that, someone who didn’t judge.

Evin let her head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

The ballet studio suddenly felt too big, too empty, as if the room itself could swallow her whole.

But she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Here, surrounded by music and mirrors, she could pretend—just for a moment—that she was still in control.

Chapter 48

Falling Apart, Together

Evin

The night was quiet as Jonas’s car pulled up in front of the ballet studio. Evin sat on the steps, arms wrapped around her knees, the cold concrete pressing against her back. The glow of the headlights made her lift her head, and for a moment, she hesitated. Was this a mistake?

Jonas got out, moving with the same unhurried ease as always, like he had all the time in the world. “Hey,” he said softly as he lowered himself onto the step in front of her. His dark eyes flicked over her face, searching, but he didn’t push.

“Hey,” she murmured, her gaze locked on the ground.

“You look like you could use a hot shower and some food,” he said eventually. His voice held a hint of humor, but beneath it, there was something softer, something steady.

Evin let out a quiet snort. “Food doesn’t fix everything, Jonas.”

“That’s just because you haven’t seen my kitchen yet.” He smirked. “I’ve got sushi, pasta—even that overpriced hummus my mom’s obsessed with. Or, if you want, we can go somewhere else. Your call.”

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