Page 77 of Oliver
Before Ryan. Before my world crumbled.
“You two always made sense,” Mr. Nazarian said softly, squeezing my shoulder. “We’re so happy you found your way back to each other.”
Mrs. Nazarian nodded, setting a plate of saffron cookies beside my tea. "She’s missed you, even if she won’t admit it."
Their pride, their affection, their unwavering belief in me—it was a knife twisting deeper with every kind word, every warm smile.
The front door opened. Footsteps. Then Zahra walked in.
She froze in the kitchen doorway, grocery bags in hand.
"Oliver," she said, voice unreadable. "What are you doing here?"
"He came to surprise you,azizam.” Mrs. Nazarian beamed. “Now, you two set the table while I start breakfast."
Zahra’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue.
As we moved around the kitchen, she remained distant, cold. The warmth of her parents only made the contrast sharper.
When breakfast was served, she sat as far from me as the table allowed. She picked at her food, contributing minimally to the conversation.
"Well." Mr. Nazarian patted his stomach when the meal was over. "I’ll start on the dishes.”
“I’ll see Oliver out,” Zahra said. No questions, no arguments, no direct communication. Just a clear-cut dismissal. It was like a slap.
I followed her to the door. When she opened it, I hesitated, then spun, planting a palm against the blue-painted wood before she could shut me out.
Zahra’s grip on the door tightened.
"Zahra, I’m sorry, I…" The apology I'd rehearsed in the car died on my lips when she finally met my eyes.
I swallowed, the weight of everything I wasn't saying crushing my chest. "Please, Zahra, can we talk?"
It didn’t even have to be talking. I’d accept yelling, slapping, being thrown out in a fit of rage. Anything to know she still felt something for me, anything other than this blank apathy that was telling me I’d already lost her.
It was killing me.
“Please,” I whispered in a final plea.
She stared at me, unreadable. Then, voice quiet but firm, she asked, "Did you come here to apologize, or because you need something?"
The panic must have been showing on my face, because she let out a tired exhale, shaking her head. "Thought so."
Think. Think. THINK.
Tell her? She’s in danger.
Don’t? I becomehim.
Walk away? Emmet’s screwed.
Every move was a sacrifice. Zahra. My integrity. Emmet’s future.
Choose, Beck!
“You should leave,” she whispered before turning away.
"I..." I stammered, my emotions at war, but one thing echoed loud and clear—not her. Not like this. "I can't do this alone anymore, Zahra."
