Page 24 of Eternal
“Sorry, I left you with this weirdo for too long…” I replied, leaning into her kiss.
“Fear you mean?” Vik says, the smirk on his face deepens as he looks at my eyes. “My best friend with killer eyes.”
One blue, one green, it’s the only thing that makes him pause for a split second.
It's crazy how my vision of myself changed, how all the years of self-hatred completely…fell away.Somewhere along the line, my pain grew stronger than the insecurities, and my rage burned brighter than any shame.
Those eyes. I’ve always hated them. They draw so much unwanted attention, make me recognizable, and different in aweird way. The thing is, different never felt like a gift in this world.
When I was a kid, I had a lot of trouble accepting myself.
The Arabic girl with two strange-colored eyes and a long mess of dark curls that couldn’t lie flat no matter how hard I tried even at such a young age.
The streets were filled with beautiful little girls. Blond hair, bright blue eyes. And then there was me, olive skin, a mother from another country who tried her best to be accepted.
And I tried to shrink into myself, hide my eyes, my hair, my entire being that felt so…wrong.
I didn’t even know it was possible to hate the way I looked at what…four?
By the time I was five, I was already begging to wear contacts to hide my different-colored eyes.
My mother hated it; she’d watch me cry, trying to cover them, to pull my hair back in a ponytail, tight and out of sight, my hands were too small to do it, so I would cry and cry.
But every time, she’d look at me with that honest smile, put an iris behind my ear, and call me her flower even if I grew up feeling like a weed among wildflowers.
She would still repeat to me that one day I’ll learn to embrace my identity.
My mother, when she was still herself, saw a future where I’d love the parts of me that felt like horrible mistakes. I just wished I could borrow her eyes when she could still see me like this to understand it when I was a kid and even after.
I heard the whispers too, the stares, the way their faces scrunched up when they looked at us.
Ugly words floating between glances that told me I didn’t belong there with them. And my stepdad never let anything slide. His fists didn’t care if it meant bruised knuckles or a bloody nose, he’d defend us to the end.
He tried to make me believe I was something special, even if I couldn’t see it.
I never knew my real father, but Alexei was the father I needed. The best enforcer at this time for the bratva, he entered our lives when Mom started working as their lawyer. He was deadly protective, he wrapped us in security.
Vik and Kat too, they never stopped believing that, even as I hid every petal. They kept telling me I was magical because of those eyes.
I wanted everyone in my position to love themselves no matter their differences because I couldn’t do it for myself.
So, when my little brother was born, I’d felt that promise growing inside me. He was beautiful, pure, untouched by the ugliness around us. I wanted him to grow up without the weight of the whispers, without feeling like he had to hide. I wanted him to be proud of his identity, the blood running inside his veins.
I wanted to be his big sister, his shield. His protector. And yet, I failed.
I can’t think about that now,I can’t.
Stop now, Azra. Turn it off.
The glasses clinking around me brought me back to the real world.
“I know what you’re thinking about, stop it,” he says, gaze locking on mine. “That’s how I recognized you,kroshka.”
“What am I thinking about?” I ask, but I know he actually can read me like an open book.
“Your deadliest weapons. Blue and Green.”
I arch a brow, letting a small knowing smile tug at my mouth. “So, you brought me all the way back to protect you with my eyes? Need a bodyguard now Vik?”
