34. Chapter 29
Defiance In Ash & Ink
Evin
H er fingertip glided over the uneven surface of the paper, catching on the indentations where she had pressed too hard.
Evin sat on the windowsill of her room, her diary open in front of her. The words stared back at her: "I don’t care what Sergej wants. I’m only doing this because Bas gets jealous."
She bit her lip. Who was she trying to fool?
Her phone buzzed beside her. A message from Sergej lit up the screen.
Sergej
Come over tonight.
Just the two of us. Let’s make it cozy.
Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to go. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to stay a way.
But then there was Bas. What if he found out?
What if he showed that fleeting moment of jealousy again—the one she had become almost addicted to?
It was reckless, pathetic even—but that flicker of jealousy in his eyes felt like proof that she still mattered to him, that she still had some kind of power over him.She typed back a short reply.
Evin
Okay.
Suddenly, she jumped off the windowsill, pulled on her workout clothes, left the apartment, and grabbed her bike.
Evin pedaled hard, the wind brushing against her face.
She didn’t know where she was going—and it didn’t matter.
Her legs moved on their own, as if her body needed to outrun her thoughts.
She turned down side streets again and again, cycling through neighborhoods she had never really noticed before.
The repetition of pedaling, the rhythmic push and pull, was her only focus.
Anything was better than letting her thoughts catch up.
She turned down a narrow alley. The asphalt beneath her tires suddenly felt smoother, and the sounds of the city faded into the background. It was quiet here. Almost too quiet.
Evin slowed down, her feet pressing lightly on the pedals as she let the bike roll to a stop. She glanced around.
The street felt like a different world—cobblestones, old lanterns casting a dim glow, buildings that looked like they belonged in an old film. How have I never seen this place before?
Up ahead, a small, enchanting bookstore caught her eye. She stopped, staring for a moment at the sign above the door, the name written in ornate lettering: Forgotten Stories.
Evin pulled her shoulders up as if she’d done something forbidden and slowly walked toward the door. She hadn’t meant to end up here, but something about the quiet street and the solitude of the place pulled her in like a magnet. She opened the door, and a soft bell chimed.
Evin stepped hesitantly over the threshold of the bookstore. The air was filled with the scent of old books and wood, and a calming silence settled over her senses. The shelves were tall and crammed with books, some old, some n ew, but all seemed to carry stories waiting to be discovered.
She wandered slowly through the aisles, her fingers brushing the spines of the books. It was soothing. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
As she rounded a corner, she saw him: an older man with glasses, lost in thought, holding a book. He looked up and smiled when he saw her.
“Do you like stories?” he asked kindly, setting the book aside. His voice was calm, almost comforting.
Evin nodded but didn’t know what to say. She suddenly felt uneasy, as if he could see right through her. “Yeah, I guess. I… I just wanted to take a look around.”
The man smiled, his eyes seeming to pierce into her. “Sometimes we look for stories to help us understand our own,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself.
Evin frowned. “What do you mean?”
He pulled another book from the shelf—old and worn. “Sometimes we run from our own story. But it always catches up to us. The question is: when will we be ready to face it?”
Evin felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t know why, but his words struck her deeper than she wanted to admit. She nodded uncertainly, muttered an apology, and stepped back. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked at the book he offered her.
“You’ll know when you’re ready,” the man said gently before slowly disappearing into the back rows of the bookstore.
Evin stared after him for a moment before turning the book in her hands to read the title:
Of Lost Decisions.
__________
Evin’s phone buzzed.
Sergej
I’m waiting for you .
Short, as always.
She stared at the screen. Somehow, the familiar words felt heavier tonight.
The bookseller’s words still echoed in her mind: "Sometimes we run from our own story. But it always catches up with us."
Maybe it was time to end this , Evin thought as she swung onto her bike and rode home.
She was still in her workout clothes, sweat clung to her skin beneath the fabric. She didn’t want to go to Sergej. Not today. Not anymore. But then, thoughts of Bas surfaced, and that same knot tightened in her stomach.
Fall had passed faster than Evin had expected. The city’s Christmas lights reminded her how long it had been since she last had anything to do with Bas. Weeks. It felt like an eternity.
Back home, she changed quickly, tossed her workout clothes into the laundry, and slipped out again before her thoughts caught up.
The cool night air stung her lungs as she hurried on foot toward Sergej’s place. Every step felt like a burden.
I should stop, she thought, but her feet kept moving.
They were supposed to be watching the highly anticipated comeback of a famous boxer, but the fight had already been going for a while.
They lay on the only sofa in his apartment. The floor lamp next to the TV cast a glare so harsh that Evin had to close her eyes, tilting her head away. Sergej was lying on top of her.
At first, Evin had sat a safe distance away. But somehow, Sergej had edged closer, shifting her into this position until she found herself beneath him.
He didn’t even notice that she was trying to shield her face from the uncomfortable light. For him, her exposed neck was a clear invitation, and he gently kissed it. His intense interest in the boxing match seemed to have vanished. Slowly, he leaned toward her lips.
His kisses, once thrilling, now repulsed her. His warmth suffocated. His closeness, once comforting, felt like a cage.
So, she turned her head toward him and kissed him back. She didn’t even want to.
She had fled home to escape her parents, her homework—her thoughts. Yet here she was, kissing a stranger.
They’d been together for four weeks now, and not a single day passed without Sergej reminding her how important sex was.
The attraction Evin had once felt for Sergej’s intelligence had long since faded. His quick wit and eloquence had made him seem irresistible at first. But now it all felt fake. Forced.
She had thought so many times about how to break up with him. Who was she trying to fool?
But what would it look like? Especially now that Bas was back in her life. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing? Breaking off a situationship at almost 19—after just four weeks?
Bas would lose interest immediately. At least Evin wanted to hold on for a few months. Hold on... as if a relationship were something you simply endured. Was that supposed to be the right thing? Enduring a relationship while longing for someone else? What the hell am I doing here?
While she wanted to feel Bas’s kisses, she was lying here with someone who felt almost like a stranger. Her boyfriend. And this boyfriend, as always, seemed to care only about his own needs. Her body tensed at the thought.
Sergej’s hands were under her clothes before she even registered what was happening.
Before she could react, he yanked her pants down—without even lifting himself.
Evin tried to pull her legs back, but Sergej’s hands pinned her arms in place.
Her heart raced, but her body was frozen. Her pants slipped even further.
“Where are you going?” he grinned slowly. Sergej seemed to find the whole thing exciting. His grin made her sick.
“Cut it out! Sergej!”
“Okay, okay,” he replied, but did the exact opposite, using his feet to slide her pants all the way off.
And there she was. In her white thong. A lump formed in her throat. What the hell was he doing?
“Get off me!” she commanded.
“Evin,” his voice sounded soft again, “I’m not doing anything you don’t want.”
“Good, because I don’t want this!” she said, this time more forcefully.
Her arms were pinned to her sides. His weight pressed down, crushing her beneath him—not just physically, but under the weight of what was happening.
She had no space, no way to move.
No way out.
In the background, the TV droned on. The boxing match was in full swing.
Sergej buried his face in her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin, carrying the sickly sweet scent of the weed he had smoked earlier. It sent an unpleasant chill down her spine.
Instinctively, Evin turned her head away. She stared blankly at his skin, feeling as though she couldn’t see anything anymore.
Her thoughts grew hazy, and she felt as if she were absent, far removed from what her body was going through.
His movements. The shift of fabric. His pants loosening.
“Are you serious?” she asked, her tone flat. “I told you: I don’t want this!”
She pushed her shoulder against his face—the only part of her she could move—and waited for a reaction.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said. His dry lips scraped against her neck. The anger made her skin burn.
That was it. She’d had enough. With her pinned arms, Evin fumbled at her thong.
“Here! Are you happy now?” she yelled angrily, glaring at him as he lifted his head slightly to see what she was doing. The bright scrap of fabric flew across the room and landed near the coffee table.
For a split second, some small, naive part of her still believed he’d stop —because Bas always did. Because no one had ever crossed a line she clearly drew. But Sergej wasn’t Bas. And this wasn’t solid ground.
Instead of reacting, Sergej remained unfazed. Evin’s defiant gesture should have made him stop. Should have made him feel shame.
How could he not have gotten up by now?
But he just stayed. Unmoved. Unbothered.
As he pushed her thighs apart, the anger vanished, swallowed by numbness.
Her thoughts seemed to detach, as if she had catapulted herself out of the situation. She lay there numb, trapped in her motionless body, horrified by his actions.
Please, god, make it stop.
Her skin burned under his touch as her mind drifted further and further away.
As she endured his movements and the pain, Evin stared at the bare ceiling.
The glaring light of the floor lamp became her only focus.
She held herself together as best she could, though she couldn’t stop a few tears from falling.
Tears that felt like betrayal. She would have liked to wipe them away with the back of her hand. Stop being so pathetic!
“Las Vegas bows to a great champion,” declared the TV. The match was over, and the nameless boxer had emerged victorious.
There she lay. Now you’ve got what you wanted. Something inside her clicked. A switch flipped. Emotion: gone. She immediately stood up.
“Grab a towel,” Sergej said, his gaze trailing over her body like she was nothing.
Still numb, it took her a moment to understand what he meant—until she felt the warm, sticky sensation on her leg. Without asking, she moved into action, silent and horrified. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerability. Fuck you.
Evin stood there, naked, in his bare, soulless living room, feeling as hollow as the space around her.
After cleaning herself up, Evin lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
She didn’t even smoke. The acrid taste of tobacco clung to her tongue, harsh and dry, scraping against her throat as she inhale d too sharply.
It burned, but she welcomed the sting. At least it was something she could control.
She looked around for her panties, refusing to let her physical pain show.
When she spotted them, she snatched them up quickly and put them on.
“What are you doing?” Sergej mumbled, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“I’m leaving. Going home.”
A brief silence followed. Sergej exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“I thought we’d go for round two,” he said, looking bewildered.
Her head snapped toward him. Disgust curled inside her, heavy as stone, expanding into an all-consuming void. She couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“What are you talking about? That…” she gestured with her gaze at herself, him, and the couch, “will never happen again.”
Now fully dressed, she grabbed her bag and hurried toward the hallway. Just need my shoes. Just the shoes .
“The first time’s always rough. You’ll get used to it,“ he muttered, exhaling smoke like it was nothing.
“Fuck you!” she spat. “We’re done.”
Sergej followed her to the hallway and moved to block the door.
“What? Why?”
Finally, she felt her strength return. She shoved him aside and fled into the building’s corridor.
“What do you mean, why?” she mocked, mimicking him. “Don’t ever call me again. Delete my number!” she shouted and bolted down the stairs.
“Don’t forget the morning-after pill,” he called after her.
She ran without stopping. Only when she reached the next block did she begin to slow down. The streetlights blurred, streaking like smudged ink as she ran.
I waited years for this? Turned down so many guys for this? Every part of her body ached, but one part more than the rest. I should’ve just fucked Bas or one of the other idiots instead. For this?
Tears streamed down her face. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.