“Take him outside,” he said quietly, but decisively.
She nodded, placing a hand on Bas’s back as she guided him out of the tent.
The cool night air hit him like a slap. His mother kept a steady grip on his arm, her fingers pressing lightly but firmly.
“You’re bleeding,” she said calmly, but the tension in her voice was unmistakable. “We need to take care of that before it gets worse.”
Bas nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the ground. They led him to a secluded corner behind the tent, where a table with catering supplies stood. His mother waved over one of the staff members. “A first-aid kit, please. Quickly.”
While they waited, she pulled a tissue from her handbag and pressed it gently against the wound on his arm.
“You have no idea how much trouble you’ve just brought upon yourself,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the bleeding. “But we’ll handle it. Like always.”
Bas didn’t respond. The burning in his arm was nothing compared to the tightness in his chest. When the staff member returned with the first-aid kit, his mother began cleaning and dressing the wound. Her movements were practiced, almost mechanical. But then she hesitated, looked at him, and her voice softened.
“Bas,” she said gently, and for the first time, there was something unfamiliar in her tone. Something that surprised him. “I know you mean well. I know you think you have to take responsibility for everything and everyone. But sometimes… sometimes you’re not helping anyone if you destroy yourself in the process.”
Her words struck deep.
He felt the tension in his shoulders ease, and for a moment, he just looked at her, the hardness in his gaze unraveling.
“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just stand by. I’ve let her down so many times.”
“Watching doesn’t mean doing nothing,” she said quietly. “And you didn’t have to carry this alone. You could have come to us.”
Bas swallowed hard, his throat burning. He nodded slowly.
“Thank you, Mom,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. For a moment, he felt like the kid he used to be, seeking comfort in his mother’s arms after a fall.
When she finished, she closed the kit and looked at him. “You’re going home now. No discussion.”
Bas hesitated before responding. “I will. But… I need to make sure Evin’s okay first.”
Chapter 47
What Hurts and What Heals
Evin
Curled up on her bed, as if she could somehow disappear from the world, she lay motionless.
The darkness of her room was welcome, but it didn’t help. It only left her alone with her thoughts. Sergej’s grin. Bas’s blood-streaked face. Milka’s horrified eyes. And the voices, blending into an unbearable hum inside her head.
They all saw it.
Do they already know? And if they find out?Her breath came shorter, her chest tightening. Tears dripped from the bridge of her nose onto her pillow.
She couldn’t take it. Not the looks. Not the unspoken questions. Not Bas.
Before anyone could stop her, she had turned and bolted through the crowd. Her steps were rushed, uncontrolled, her legs feeling detached from her body. She hadn’t even registered who called after her, who might have followed.
An Uber had been right outside the venue, a silent promise of escape. She had thrown herself into the back seat, arms wrapped around herself, and muttered her address in a hoarse voice. The driver had pulled away without asking questions. The streetlights blurred past, but all she could see was Bas’s face.
His eyes.
He knew now.
She closed her eyes. But even here, in the silence of her room, it caught up with her again.
