Page 99 of Oliver
His words hung heavily in the air, filling the silence of his empty house, and I wavered.
Could I truly trust a man who’d done what he’d done? Did I even have a choice?
Of course, I had a choice.I could walk away, go back to Seattle, and continue to live life exactly as I had up until Zahra burst back into it.
It was simple.
It was easy.
It was what my own rules dictated.
And it would kill me from the inside out.
I nodded to myself, resolve setting, and looked at Davidson. "I'm listening."
Twenty-Nine
ZAHRA
I pressedmy fingertips to my temples, trying to ward off the looming headache as I surveyed the reception.
Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow across the garden venue. The string quartet played softly in the background, their melodies weaving between clusters of elegantly dressed guests. Everything was on point—the flower arrangements, the table settings, the timing of the catering staff.
Perfect, except for the hollow ache pulsing beneath my ribs since Oliver left.
I adjusted a slightly off-center centerpiece, more for something to do with my hands than from any real need. The wedding had gone off without a hitch—Parisa radiant in her gown, Darryl's face glowing with bliss and adoration as she glided down the aisle. I'd orchestrated a fairytale ceremony worthy of their love, down to the last peony petal.
My parents formed a protective barrier between me and the rest of the wedding party, particularly Ryan.
He'd been hovering like a vulture all evening, smiling that toothy smile, circling me like I was vulnerable prey.
It was getting tired, fast.
Mom fussed with my hair, smoothing invisible flyways, while Dad kept a watchful eye on Ryan's movements, his posture tensing whenever Ryan drifted too close. But my parents were never the type to rock the boat. They did things quietly, behind the scenes. Like tricking Ryan into thinking he had their blessing so he’d feel comfortable letting loose, passing out drunk, giving them a window to help me escape somewhere he couldn’t reach.
I, on the other hand, was fed up with being docile and keeping the peace.
And the manipulators who counted on my conscience getting the better of me? Yeah, they could all fuck off to the jail cell they deserved to be in.
I shot Ryan a look, daring him to act on his thoughts, and he faltered, his hand unconsciously lifting to his neck. I smirked, then did something I knew would rattle his perception of me for good.
I turned my back on him.
"You did a beautiful job, sweetheart," Mom said, her eyes soft with concern. She'd noticed something was wrong the moment she arrived this morning but thankfully hadn't pressed for details.
"Thanks, Mom." I managed a faint smile that didn't reach my eyes.
I adjusted table settings, checked the time, and nodded along to conversations I barely registered.
Breathe.
Smile.
Keep moving.
Because if I stopped—if I let myself feel even a fraction of the loss gnawing at my insides—I might irreparably shatter.
Oliver was probably in the empty hotel room, packing his bags, and booking his flight back to Seattle. Back to his life, his brother, his rules. And I'd be here, picking up the pieces, wondering if I'd made the worst mistake of my life sending him away.
