Page 18 of The Bittersweet Bond

"What a fucking joke."

He turned slightly, as if he were about to leave, then hesitated, looking at her over his shoulder.

"You really did it, Evin. Congratulations."

His words dripped like poison, each syllable slow and deliberate.

"Have fun with your little toy." He motioned toward Ben, who still stood there, confused.

Bas took a step forward, as if he were about to walk away, but then, suddenly, he turned back, closing the distance between them, too close, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, merciless intensity.

"Keep playing your games. But don’t ever come near me again."

His voice was rough, almost threatening, and without waiting for a response, he pushed through the crowd, not looking back once.

His anger wasn’t loud. It burned quietly, but deeply.

And it left marks.

___________

After Bas had left, Evin still stood there, frozen in place. But it felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

Why did it hurt so damn much to see him walk away like that? Why did he always have to come so close, only to drop her again?

The walls pounded dully, people laughed, but everything felt muffled, wrapped in cotton. She could feel her pulse rushing in her ears.

It was as if he had pulled the ground from under her feet—and yet she wasn’t sure if he had ever really been there at all. Her thoughts swirled, unable to settle.

What the hell just happened?

Evin’s heart was racing, Bas’s words still echoing in her head. She didn’t want to see him like that, not that hurt. But now it had happened.

How had things flipped so fast?

Before she could collect herself, Ben reappeared at her side, his eyes searching for an explanation.

“What… was that just now?” he asked, frowning. And just as Evin was about to take a breath, Milka appeared again, concern written all over her face.

“Evin, are you okay? What happened?” She glanced at Evin’s face, then in the direction Bas had disappeared. “Oh shit… I know what that means. I’m calling Rico.”

Without another word, Milka wrapped her arm around Evin’s shoulders and pulled her along. She let Milka guide her, her legs feeling heavy, as if she were leaving something behind that she didn’t actually want to let go of.

The loud music faded as they left the club, the cool night air hitting them. It almost felt liberating.

Milka looked at her seriously as they sat down on a step outside. “Do you want to talk about it?” Evin shook her head, her gaze empty. “Not now.”

Milka sighed and nodded understandingly.

“Okay, but whatever it is, you’re coming home with me tonight. No being alone and overthinking, okay?” She shoved her phone into her pocket and stood up. “Let’s go.”

Evin nodded gratefully, her thoughts still lingering on the furious, wounded expression on Bas’s face.

How had it come to this? What had she done to him that made him react with so much coldness, so much hurt?

As they drove through the dark night, Evin pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the streets blur past. Every flickering light, every dim glow of a streetlamp reminded her of the burning look Bas had given her before he walked away.

It was as if he had left a mark on her—a pain that settled deep in her chest, reminding her that she had touched something in him, something she hadn’t even realized was there. But now, she had ruined it.

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