Page 116 of Oliver
The raw confession hung in the air between us. I hadn't meant to be so honest, so exposed, but something about Zahra had always stripped away my defenses, leaving me bare in ways that defied all my careful rules. I’d spent so long fighting it, burying them under decade-old slights and forged animosity, that it became easy to forget.
She reached across the table, her fingers stopping just short of mine. "I've never wanted to be a burden to you, Oliver."
"You're not," I said quickly, closing the distance to cover her hand with mine. Warmth climbed up my arm instantly, creeping into my chest. "That's not what I meant. It's me—all the wallsI built that you somehow walk through like they're not even there."
"Is that such a bad thing?" she asked, her voice soft. Not accusing, not defensive, just curious.
I let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "It is when those walls are the only thing holding me together."
Her eyes held mine, unwavering. "What are you so afraid I'll see?"
"Everything," I admitted. "All the ways I’m not enough. All the ways I've failed you."
She tilted her head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I didn't see what was happening to you with Ryan," I explained. "I was so wrapped up in my own pain, my own sense of betrayal, that I missed what was right in front of me. You were being controlled, isolated, manipulated, and I just thought...” I swallowed, the realization still fresh and painful. "I was so self-righteous in my hurt that I never questioned why you shut me out. I just assumed you were like everyone else in my life—like my parents. You used me until you didn’t need me anymore and then threw me aside."
"Oliver—"
"No, let me finish." I ran a hand through my hair, the gesture unconscious and revealing. "I've spent ten years carrying this anger, this sense of betrayal, without ever considering your side. And then I came back into your life and saw how Ryan affected you, how he still tried to control you, and I finally understood." My voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Zahra. For not seeing it then. For not being the friend you needed and deserved."
Tears shone in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "I never told anyone what was happening. How could you have known?"
"I should have seen it. Should have asked. Should have done something besides retreat into my own hurt." I shook my head,the weight of a decade's misplaced resentment heavy on my shoulders. "I failed you then, and I failed now."
“You didn’t fail me, Oliver.” She shifted her hand and laced our fingers together, and for the first time since coming back to Seattle, I felt like I could breathe. “You made mistakes. Colossal ‘grovel for forgiveness’ mistakes, but still, just mistakes. I made mistakes as well.” Zahra squeezed my hand. “Mistakes don’t equate failure, they equate growth. You’re a scientist, you should know that.”
I stared at her, momentarily lost in the strength shining through her gentle features, the determination carried even in her softest voice.
“I've spent the last decade a rogue star drifting through space, and you—" My voice broke, my breath hitching. "You're the only thing that’s ever felt like gravity."
Her breath caught, the slight rise in her chest telling me the words had landed.
"I made choices I'm not proud of, Zahra. I went to Norman to give Emmet a better future and ended up unearthing a solution to all my problems. Then I walked away from it. I gave it all up. It went against logic, against my plan, against everything I’d been telling myself was important, and it waseasy, because the alternative was giving you up."
Zahra considered me for a moment, then reached into her bag and pulled out a photo. I recognized it immediately. It was one of the snaps I took of her in the park when Elena handed me the camera.
“It took me a long time to understand,” Zahra started, staring at the photo with a ghost of a smile. “I was sure you hated me, resented me, that you agreed to the booking because of the money.”
“I believed the same things,” I said, and Zahra nodded slowly, like she wasn’t so convinced anymore.
“I know you think you did, Oliver, but these photos…” She trailed off, her finger tracing the long edge of the photo.
She didn’t need to continue, I knew. Even then, I had already loved her. Deeply. Completely.
"I've been doing it alone for so long," I said, my voice cracking under the unbearable load.
The weight of it all suddenly crashed down on me—the years of struggling to keep Emmet afloat, the endless juggling of jobs and school, the constant vigilance against my parents' interference. The exhaustion of never allowing myself to be vulnerable.
My eyelids felt heavy, my entire body like lead.
"I'm so tired, Zahra," I whispered, the words pulled from somewhere deep inside me, and my eyes slid shut. "So tired of carrying it all on my shoulders. So tired of always being strong." I looked up at her, hope and fear warring in my chest. "You've changed, grown, broken the mold you were forced into. Do you think I can do that, too?"
Zahra didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she dragged her chair so she was sitting next to me and cupped my jaw in her hand, eyes shining with trust I didn’t deserve.
“I changed because I allowed myself to see me through your eyes.” Her voice was so tender I was afraid to breathe, scared if I exhaled too loudly it would bring her to her senses. “Can you allow yourself the same? Do you love me enough to learn to love yourself, Oliver?”
I hesitated. The question wasn’t cruel, wasn’t meant to stab at my rawest parts, but it did, and the words stuck in my throat. Zahra's fingers feathered over my jawline, her gaze never wavering, her confidence in me never diminishing.
