Page 55 of Toxic B!tch
I breathe in deeply, trying to calm my mind. My body is begging for sleep, but my mind keeps running, chasing the thoughts that refuse to settle.
And then I realize.
I can’t keep living like this, in the in-between. I need to decide. I can’t keep floating here, waiting for something to change. I have to choose. I have to figure out if I’m going to walk away from her or if I’m going to dive in headfirst and never come back up for air.
And if I’m being honest with myself, I already know which one I’m going to choose.
I can’t stay here, not like this. I need to know where she is. I need to see her face again, to hear her voice, to understand what I’m signing up for. I’ve known it for days now. I’ve known it from the second I watched her face break, watched her plead with me like I was the only person who could save her.
But I didn’t run then. And I’m not going to run now.
I let my hand drop from my head and open my eyes. The walls of my house feel too close, the silence too loud. It’s choking me. I get up, pacing the room, feeling the echo of each step like the weight of every question I’ve been asking myself over the last few days.
I should leave. I should get the hell out of here and pretend I never met her. Pretend I don’t know what it feels like to be tangled in her stunning eyes, the way she looks at me like she needs me in a way I’ll never fully understand.
But I can’t.
I look down at my hands—shaking. The text I typed to her, then deleted. The messages I never sent. The questions I never asked. The guilt I never felt.
I’m supposed to feel guilt, right? I should feel something other than this goddamn emptiness. I should be angry, or scared, or disgusted. But I’m not. I’m just—lost.
I don’t know how many times she’s done this before. I don’t know if she even cares about stopping. I don’t know anything. But I can’t walk away. Not yet.
The fear hits me, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your heart pound in your chest, but I push it down. She’s mine, in some sick, twisted way. And no matter what happens, I can’t make myself care enough to leave her.
I grab my phone and stare at her name. The screen flickers with memories of late nights, of whispered conversations, of quiet moments between the chaos. I’ve never felt more sure of anything, even if it terrifies me.
I can’t love her in pieces. I can’t love her without knowing every part of her. So I need to see her. I need to look into her eyes and hear her say what I’m afraid to ask.
I’m in this now. There’s no turning back.
And I’m okay with that.
I press dial.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MALIK
The phone is heavy in my hand as my fingers tighten around it, my pulse hammering beneath my skin as Indigo’s name flashes across the screen. The moment drags by as I listen to it ring. I could hang up… I should hang up. Pretend I never made this call, but that would be a lie. And I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.
For a long time, there’s nothing. Just the hollow sound of breathing, the static of distance. Then, finally?—
“Malik.”
Her voice is quieter than usual, careful but raw. It grinds against my ear, carving deep into my soul. There’s no fake sweetness, no false bravado. Just her.
My throat tightens, words tangling on my tongue before they can escape. Because what do you say to someone who has rewritten everything you thought you knew? How do you even begin?
“I need to know,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “I need to hear it from you.”
A pause. A shift in her breathing. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth, Indigo.”
There’s a soft, bitter laugh. “The truth is messy, Malik.”
I close my eyes. I can picture her perfectly, the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking, the way her lips press together like she’s holding back a storm. I don’t know if I can handle her words, but I need them anyway.
