Page 94 of Oliver
But she didn’t.
And then, I laughed.
A bitter, stunned sound—more breath than voice.
Because it was absurd.
A wire transfer. Like I was a contractor she was done with. Like this was just another business expense to be neatly crossed off her list.
"Thank you for your time and efforts," she said, like she was reading from a goddamn script. "They're greatly appreciated."
My grip tightened around my phone. My pulse slammed against my ribs, deafening.
I stared at the screen, on my knees in a goddamn hotel in fucking Norman, staring at a number, a fee she'd paid to make me disappear.
“These were your terms, Oliver,” Zahra said quietly as I got to my feet, already shutting down. Because what was left? What the fuck was left? “This was the contract.”
Her voice was so damn steady that, for a second, I almost believed she meant it, that this was just business, that she wasn’t tearing herself apart to say the words.
Then I saw the tremor in her hands. It was slight, barely there, but she shoved her hands into her pockets so fast it was almost aggressive. A measured inhale through her nose, a blink, a forced neutrality smoothing over her features.
The small betrayal of her body. The flicker of truth beneath the mask.
I knew she was breaking just as much as I was.
It should have been reassuring, but it only made things worse. Zahra was choosing to walk away, choosing to be manipulated into abandoning me.Again.
I was unraveling.
I needed her to look at me.
Just one look.
If she did—if she met my eyes—maybe I could pull us back from this. Maybe I could find the truth in her expression, something to fight for, something to hold on to.
“Zahra.”
I waited.
Please. Just look at me, Zahra.
But she didn’t.
The numbness crept in slowly. An old habit. A familiar instinct.
"Right.” I scratched the back of my head, eyes squeezing shut to get my act together. “You’re right.”
My whole body went still, my breathing even. My face blank.
I’d done this a thousand times before—shut down, shut out, shut up.
If this was how she wanted to play it, fine. It was absolutely fuckingfine.
My fingers curled into a fist. Uncurled.
"It was just business, after all."
She flinched.
