“You should go,” he adds. “I think... you’d want to see her make that stage walk.”
I don’t respond right away.
Because yes, I want to. Iacheto.
But I don’t want to taint a day that should be hers. I don’t want my presence to sour her triumph.
I close my eyes. Nod slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
Liam doesn’t push again.
Just stands. Stretches. Gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Sleep, dumbass. You look like someone unplugged your soul.”
“So do you, fucker.”
Then he heads to my guest bedroom, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.
And I sit there in the dark, wondering where the fuck willIsleep, because Liam just took my only sanctuary.
Fucking hell. Couch it is.
TWENTY-SIX
Lucian
I’ve been asked to sit with the rest of the professors and academics. A neat, robed row of polished credentials and uncomfortable chairs. There are four graduate programs seated across the stage. One of them is Aarohi’s.
She’s so far away I have to squint—but even from this distance, she’s unmistakably radiant. She’sglowing.
Her mortarboard is tilted slightly to the left, a glimpse of blue peeking from beneath her gown. Her smile is effortless. She looks... content.
And that’s how she shouldalwayslook.
It just hurts like hell that I don’t—can’tbring her that contentment.
This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on her since she uttered those three words to me. After that, I didn’t look at her. Icouldn’t. My heart wouldn’t allow it. That kind of beauty doesn’t belong in a gaze as undeserving as mine.
I remember the moment I brought up the accusation to Alan, my therapist. My throat was raw just saying the words out loud. I waited for his face to twist—maybe in disgust, maybe even judgement.
But he didn’t react. Not the way I expected.
He just looked at me. Steady. Neutral. Waiting.
It was worse than disgust.
Because it meant I had to fill the silence myself. Had to sit in the filth of my own making and actually say it. Name it.
And I did.
And every time I look at her, sitting there with her whole future ahead of her... I feel that weight all over again.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, eyes glued to the figure I’ve missed like a phantom limb. Aarohi.
God, she looks so alive. And I feel like I’ve been rotting inside out. Ever since my session with Alan three weeks ago.
??????
“I need you to help me understand this,” I said. My voice was hoarse, my fingers trembling against the curve of the armrest. “How... fuck! Was it really rape?”
