12. Phoebe
12
PHOEBE
T he house is quiet. Too quiet. Vapas is gone, but I feel him, his presence as heavy and unavoidable as the ceiling overhead. My chest is tight, and no matter how many deep breaths I take, the ache won’t ease.
I run my hands along the edge of the kitchen counter, the cold, smooth stone grounding me. My fingers find a small chip in the surface, and I trace it absently, focusing on the texture instead of the tumult in my mind.
Why am I so angry?
The question loops through my head, over and over, but the answer doesn’t come. Anger is easier than anything else I’m feeling. Easier than fear, easier than confusion… easier than this sharp pull toward him that I can’t shake.
I press my palms against the counter, leaning forward as if I can push all these feelings out of me.
He kissed me.
The thought is like a stone dropped into a still pond, rippling outward in every direction. The Maulavi were watching, sure, and he did it to protect me, but still—he kissed me.
And I kissed him back.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something more dangerous. My body responded to him in ways that I don’t understand, ways that I didn’t even know were possible. When his lips were on mine, it was like my mind shut off and instinct took over.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memory, but it clings to my thoughts. The pressure of his hands on my ass, the heat of his body against mine… the way his gaze softened when he looked at me afterward, even though his words were cold and distant.
What is wrong with me?
I shouldn’t feel this way. Not after everything I’ve been through. Not with him. He’s my protector, nothing more. This arrangement is temporary. We’re pretending to be something we’re not, and it’s for survival, not…
Not anything else.
I glance toward the closed door. He’s out there doing who knows what. Is he getting Maulavi to take me away? No, he’d never do that. I’m sure of that much at least. This is dangerous. Letting myself feel anything for him. Gratitude, attraction, trust, it’s all a risk.
But then I remember his words.
“Because losing you is not an option I’m willing to accept.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the words, but they’re burned into my mind. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. No one’s ever made me feel… safe.
The ache in my chest deepens, and I realize it’s not just anger I’m feeling. It’s guilt.
I’ve been fighting him, pushing him away, assuming the worst of him, while he’s done nothing but protect me. And now I’ve gone and complicated things by…
I groan, covering my face with my hands.
This isn’t going to work. Not if I keep letting my emotions get in the way. I need to keep my head clear, my priorities straight. I need to focus on surviving.
But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, the truth is terrifyingly simple.
I don’t just want to survive. I want to feel alive. And when Vapas kissed me, I did.
I pace the length of the small kitchen. Each step feeling like it carries me closer to an answer I don’t want to face. My mind churns with thoughts of him. His touch, his voice, and his unwavering presence.
I’ve built walls around myself for as long as I can remember. I learned the hard way early in my life that trusting someone only opens you up to pain. Depend on yourself. That’s how you survive.
But Vapas… he’s breaking through those walls, brick by stubborn brick.
I stop pacing, my breath catching as another memory surfaces. The way he held me when the Maulavi were watching. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything about him in that moment. Protective. Determined. Using his body as a shield between me and the danger. My fingers brush my lips, as if trying to recapture the fleeting warmth of his.
“Stop it,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.
My body doesn’t listen. It remembers him too clearly—the strength in his arms, the heat radiating off him, the faint, musky scent that clung to his skin.
I grab a rag from the counter and scrub the already-clean surface. Anything to distract myself. Anything to bury these feelings that keep clawing their way to the surface.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. He’s not mine. He’s not anyone’s. And even if he were… I shake my head, this time more forcefully. No. That’s not the point.
The point is that this is fake. It has to be fake. Pretending to be his dragoste is the only way to survive here. Letting myself feel anything real would be a mistake.
Deep down, I know I’m lying to myself. Because no matter how much I want to pretend otherwise, some part of me wanted that kiss. Some part of me needed it.
My legs feel weak. I drop onto one of the chairs at the table, leaving the rag on the table. I bury my face in my hands, trying to sort through the mess in my head.
What am I supposed to do?
Trusting Vapas feels like stepping onto thin ice. But pushing him away feels like denying myself the only solid ground I have left.
And the worst part? The very worst part?
I think he sees me. Not the mask I wear, not the strong, untouchable version of myself I’ve spent years perfecting. No, the real me. The scared, broken girl hiding behind it all. And that thought terrifies me almost as much as it comforts me.
I sit there for what feels like an eternity, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around me like a cocoon. Eventually, the storm in my mind settles into something calmer, but no less confusing.
Maybe I can’t figure this out right now. Maybe I don’t have to, but one thing is clear: Vapas is more than just my protector. And that realization is the most dangerous thing of all.