Page 55 of Burdens
Ineededher to be angry. Ineededto know that deep down, no matter how much time had passed, she still cared.
Maybe it was foolish of me to think that despite my constant betrayal and lies, she’d still want anything to do with me, but a foolish heart reached for hope and I wasn’t ready to give that up.
I didn’t think I ever could.
It felt like hours had passed when she impassively said, “All you seem to have ever done was lie to me, so no, I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“That’s not true,” I started, my voice strained with guilt. “I didn’t lie about everything.”
I kept my focus on her, hoping she’d talk to me. But she stayed silent, her eyes remaining on the road and refusing to meet my gaze. I eventually turned my attention to where we were going, stealing glances at her from the corner of my eye every once in a while.
It was a few minutes before midnight when we passed a white town sign that readBen Sbih.
We drove for another few miles before she left the paved road and turned into a dark narrow alley. Amalia navigated through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, passing a group of kids playing football in the streets, until a one-story property, its rammed earth facade weathered with time, came into view.
She came to a stop behind a motorcycle already parked there, turned off the engine, and said, “We’re here. Let’s go.” Her hand reached to open her door, but my hand shot out to grasp her arm. She immediately jerked away from my touch. “Don’t,” she said coldly, still refusing to look at me.
“Amalia,” I whispered, urging her to look at me, but she ignored me and stepped out of the car, leaving me behind.
I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like when I’d promised her I’d return that morning, only to leave and never see her again.
It had taken me a while after my mother’s passing for the true weight of losing Amalia to settle in. But when my emotions kicked back in, I’d spent months feeling like a knife was constantly being twisted into my chest whenever anything reminded me of her.
But this somehow made whatever I’d felt back then like child’s play.
My heart was pounding in my ears, the blood rushing too quickly to my head. All I could feel was an immense pressure sitting against my chest, but I refused to let it win, no matter how overwhelming it tried to be.
This wasn’t over.
The sound of someone slamming against the hood of the car startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to find Amalia standing outside, an aggravated expression on her face.
“We don’t have all day,” she called out, her voice cutting through the night.
Without a second glance in my direction, she spun around and strode toward the white iron front door. She reached for the back pocket of her pants to retrieve a key, then moved to unlock it. With a groan of protest, the door swung open and she disappeared inside, leaving it ajar behind her.
With a heavy sigh, I stepped out of the car and made my way over to her. When I stepped over the door’s threshold, I found myself greeted with an unexpected sight—the glint of a gun barrel.
It wasn’t the first time I’d met the end of a barrel, so I chose to disregard it, instead focusing my attention on the figure holding the weapon.
With the entryway hallway cloaked in darkness, his features remained mostly obscured, but I could still discern that he was around Amalia’s age—or maybe even mine. He had on a long-sleeved shirt, dark straight pants, and a beanie over his head despite the suffocating August humidity.
The lights were suddenly turned on. “Lower your gun, Nassim,” Amalia’s voice rang out, tinged with impatience. “He’s unfortunately with me.”
I didn’t let myself dwell on her “unfortunately” and watched as thisNassimreluctantly lowered his gun, his expression tense as he eyed me.
“Who is he? You didn’t tell me anything about us having company,” he inquired, his gaze still on me.
Amalia shed her jacket and hung it on a hook farther down the hall, leaving her in only a black tank top. She then approached us and leaned her shoulder casually against the wall behind him. “You didn’t exactly give me the opportunity during our last conversation,” she replied dryly.
I hated not knowing how they knew each other, hated how familiar they sounded with one another. I had no right to be jealous, but it didn’t stop the resentment.
“Do you trust him?” Nassim asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
I waited with bated breath for her answer, although deep down I braced myself for disappointment. After everything thathad transpired between us and my latest admission, why would she say yes?
Her gaze flickered briefly to mine before settling back on the stranger who was still standing between her and me. “No,” she admitted as I’d expected, but it didn’t stop the expected disappointment from washing over me. “Butyoucan for whatever you have planned. Something tells me he has more at stake in this than I originally thought.”
Nassim furrowed his brows at Amalia’s response and turned toward me. Shifting his gun to his left hand, he extended his right one toward me and gave me a small smile. “Nassim Aguilar,” he introduced himself.
