Page 75 of BounBound By Scars

A shiver rolled down her spine. Her hand jerked for the juice glass like I’d just whispered nuclear launch codes in her ear. She chugged it like her life depended on it.

I bit back a full-on laugh, victory blooming in my chest.

And when I glanced up, Logan was watching me from across the table, one brow raised, a little impressed. He gave me the smallest smile, then turned and pressed a kiss to the back of Kaylan’s hand, like a smug approval stamp from the idiot older brother I never asked for.

I was still close to Amelia’s neck, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. So, I let my lips brush the top of her shoulder—barely there, barely proper—and then casually went back to my carbs like I hadn’t just wrecked her entire nervous system with a few words and a nickname.

NINETEEN

Amelia

My throat still burned from nearly choking on my juice, but it was nothing compared to the slow-burn wildfire currently raging under my skin.

Kabir’s voice. His lips on my shoulder. That nickname.Heeriye.

He said it like it meant something. LikeImeant something. I did. I was confident enough to know that I did.

I blinked and turned toward Kaylan across the table—who, of course, was watching me with an amused smirk and a silentwell, well, wellwritten all over her smug face.

I widened my eyes at her in warning. Don’t.

She just arched a brow, leaned into Logan, and whispered something in his ear.

Logan glanced at me, then at Kabir, then grinned—like this was some kind of milestone in a plan he orchestrated. I swear, he looked like a proud mentor who’d just watched his star student ace the final exam.

I was officially losing my mind.

Breakfast wrapped up in the usual buzz of post-wedding chaos. People trickled out in twos and threes, and I slipped into the hallway, heart hammering in my chest like I’d just run five miles instead of eating five waffles.

I hadn’t even paid attention to Sebastian this whole time. I should’ve at least checked his drink like I did every day.

Kabir was just ahead, walking with that annoyingly calm confidence that had replaced the stormy tension from the night before. He looked… lighter. Relaxed.

He turned a corner and I moved faster, grabbing his arm—his forearm, because apparently my hand couldn’t wrap around his tree-trunk-sized bicep—and stopped him in his tracks.

He looked down at where I was holding him, then at me, his brow raised in question but his eyes… soft.

“As I said last night,” I started, voice slightly breathless. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t stiffen. Didn’t retreat. He just nodded.

The last time I’d said those words, he looked like he was walking into his own funeral. This time?

He smiled.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. I’d laid myself bare during that damn speech, said more than I probably should have. I had no idea if he got it. If he paid attention to it.

But then I remembered his voice from earlier—Heeriye—and the way it wrapped around my ribs like silk and steel.

Maybe… just maybe… there was still hope.

We reached my room, and just like last time, I stepped in first and turned to shut the door behind him.

Click.

It sounded final.

But unlike the last time, it didn’t feel like an interrogation room.

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