Chapter 13 #3
And now, here she was, speaking the truth of it aloud—not in some dramatic breakdown, not in the heat of an argument, but in a car with Raffi, the road open and seemingly endless, a reminder that forward was the only way to go.
She’d just confessed like that, as if it was another ordinary thing to say. To Raffi, of all people.
But he wasn’t “of all people”; he was taking in her words. Eyes fixed in concentration.
Highway 29 slowed down into a comfortable road with wineries dotting the landscape, and Raffi took his time, seeming to enjoy the pace.
“I get that,” he said. “Maybe I felt the same way, too, once. I had a lot of hopes for us, and we ended things amicably. But then—”
Ani didn’t say one word. She could tell he had something big he wanted to share, and she was not going to interrupt.
Raffi continued, “A week after, my brother died, it—it shattered my whole world. And Kami, she was one of the people I was closest to. We had told each other—well, the usual things couples say. And yeah, we’d broken up at that point, but it still hurt.
She sent me this one little text. ‘I’m so sorry about Sev.
Sending you strength.’ And that was it. That was all she ever said.
I didn’t expect her to get back with me or come over and nurse me back to health or whatever, but—we were so close at one point, just weeks before, and that was all I got.
My brother died. My brother. A lot of people pulled away from me around then—maybe I was shitty to be around, I don’t know.
But I haven’t—I just—everything between us, how I felt about her, changed after that. ”
Oh. Shit. Ani had no idea, none, that Raffi’s brother had died.
When he was twenty or so? How had no one told her?
Poor Raffi. Poor young Raffi, newly adulted, newly dumped, newly made an only child.
She really fucking felt for him. And suddenly all the hooking up, all his flashy clothes and bravado, seemed to make sense. He was hurt, badly.
Then she remembered his father’s words to him. “You’ll never become a man.” God. After all that, to not even have your father on your side? She hoped he was close with his mother.
And the Kami revelation, well, it made a whole lot of sense, how ice-cold he was with her.
It hadn’t really been Kami’s fault, she was nineteen or twenty as well, and they were broken up.
Maybe she felt her text was what was appropriate considering they weren’t together anymore.
But Ani still didn’t blame Raffi for how he felt about Kami.
Processing all of this, she felt like she had been struck in the chest.
“Shit, Raffi. I didn’t know. Any of it. That must have been horrible, to feel so alone. You didn’t deserve it.”
Raffi’s jaw was tight. “Maybe I did. Why else would something like that happen?”
Ani sat up straighter and faced him, although his eyes were on the road. “No, that’s not how it works. Tragic things happen all the time, for no reason at all. Not as punishment.”
She was speaking like she had any idea, but still, she believed it.
Tragedy hadn’t touched her in the same way.
Ani hadn’t grown up with abundance like Kami and Raffi, but she had two loving parents and her sister.
This conversation also really made her want to spend some actual one-on-one time with Talar, who she’d grown apart from since her sister got married.
That was a shame, and it was on her to right it.
“If you say so, Ani jan.”
“I do.”
Raffi visibly swallowed, and Ani wished she could hug him.
“That shirt, the first day, the YSL one—it was Sevan’s, my brother’s.”
Ani’s body instantly surged with guilt, thinking about how she had destroyed it. She had thought it was just a shirt. Just a stupid, expensive shirt.
She had been so caught up in her own indignation, she’d never considered there was more beneath the surface of Raffi’s irritation that day. Never questioned why a man who otherwise seemed indifferent about so much had looked genuinely wounded when she’d ruined it.
“Raffi, no…Oh God. I can’t believe I did that. I am so sorry. Sorry doesn’t even cover it—”
But he waved her off. “I meant it before. It’s been ten years. I’m not saying I need to get over it—I’ll never be over Sevan’s death—but I need to change how I react to memories of him.”
Ani wanted to respond but wasn’t sure how to, then Raffi continued.
“That’s why I said that ridiculous thing to you.
‘This was YSL.’ Or whatever the exact words were.
I freak out about everything related to Sevan, and the fear of missing him is so intense I guess I—sometimes I lash out.
You didn’t deserve that. So actually, I’m sorry. ”
Ani shook her head. “You don’t have to be. Not at all. I understand you.”
He didn’t speak. His eyes shone.
Then he seemed to shake himself. “Enough sad topics for one drive,” Raffi said. “Can we talk about crushed velvet again?”
Ani made sure her voice carried the weight of her words and said, “Raffi. You can talk about this anytime. I mean it. It doesn’t bother me at all and I—I want to know more.”
“All right,” he said in a soft voice.
Then, he reached over and took one of her hands in his.
Her breath caught. His hand was so big, enveloping hers, warm and smooth, and his touch lit up her whole body, sparked up her spine.
He gave a light squeeze. “Thank you.”
Ani brushed her thumb against his and felt lightheaded at her boldness, stars dancing at the edges of her vision. Desire pulsed through her, want and hunger growing.
But then he released her hand, and the moment was over. Her skin felt cold in his absence, achy without him. She desperately wanted to touch him again.
She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.
Her heart was still racing, ridiculous and unchecked, like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the moment was over.
She forced herself to focus on the familiar rhythm of her breathing, the way her body fit into the leather seat, the coolness of the air slipping in through the edges of the car.
They didn’t speak again, and she wondered if Raffi was undergoing a similar unraveling. Both silent while burning below the surface.
Soon after, they arrived at DePietro Winery.
Conversation started up again as soon as they pulled into the long driveway.
She began talking about its landscaping, the front entrance, the benefits of a smooth driveway versus a crunchy one—comfort versus rustic.
Ani latched on to her words, forcing her mind into the details, the logistics, the work.
She needed to anchor herself in practicality, in things she could measure and define.
Raffi parked and hopped out. “Shall we go see about a fountain?” he asked.
“Let’s,” Ani said, and pretended that her skin didn’t still tingle where he’d touched her.