Chapter 13
ANASTASIA
I’ve been spending the last week meeting up with Eryx in the library so we can study and work on this damn case. It’s consuming my mind.
The law library is suffocatingly quiet. The type of silence where even someone merely breathing feels too loud. They should really lay some soft ambient music in libraries.
I tapped my pen against my notes, trying to drown it out. Trying to ignore the weight of his stare.
Across from me, Eryx leans back in his chair, a casebook open but untouched. His eyes haven’t left me for the last twenty minutes.
I don’t look up. “Are you going to study, or just burn holes in me with your eyes until the librarian kicks us out?”
“Depends.” His voice slides over me, smug and deliberate. “Watching you squirm is much more entertaining.” He shifts in his seat, his foot bumping mine and he keeps it there.
I bite down on a retort, finally meeting his gaze. “This is a study session. Not… whatever this is.” I move my foot.
“Flirting?” His grin tilted and sharp as a blade.
“Annoying.”
“Same thing, Nastasya.”
Heat coils low in my stomach. Anger, I tell myself. Only anger. Except the smirk on his lips says he doesn’t buy it. Maybe I don’t, either. I hate how he can see through me. Makes me feel exposed.
I shove my chair back, the sound harsh in the silence. “I need another book. At least one of us should be working. Keep being useless and I’ll have to take all the credit.”
I stalk off toward the shelves. The rows loom tall, dust floats in the dim lamplight. My fingers drag across spines I can’t even read.
Then I hear it. Footsteps. Slow. Certain.
My pulse jumps. “Are you following me?”
He’s already there when I turn around. Too close. His arm braced against the shelf beside my head, boxing me in without even touching me.
“Just making sure you don’t get lost,” he says softly. “These stacks can be dangerous.”
The air between us thickens, my breath tangling in my throat. My body screams move, but I don’t. I can’t.
“You’re unbelievable,” I manage. Though the words are barely more than a whisper.
“Unbelievable…” He leans closer, his mouth just a breath from mine, “…and yet, you haven’t walked away.”
I should have. God, I should have.
Instead, when he tilts his head the smallest fraction and leans in, I feel myself tilt, too. I lean into him. Welcoming him in. Like gravity had made the decision for me.
His lips brushed mine, soft at first, almost questioning.
But when I don’t pull back, he deepens it, a dangerous, claiming kiss that steals the breath from my lungs.
His free hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, until I’m pressed against the books, heart hammering so hard I’m sure he could feel it too.
This was reckless. Wrong. And I kissed him back anyway.
Footsteps jolted us apart. A student walked past the row, arms full of books, oblivious. Eryx steps back just as easily as he’d leaned in, a predator retreating into the shadows.
“Find what you needed?” he asked, voice casual, mocking, as if he hadn’t just set me on fire.
“Yes,” I lie, snatching a random book from the shelf with shaking hands.
Back at the table, the words on the page blur together. All I can think about is the taste of him still on my lips, the heat of his hand at my waist and the shameful truth that I already want more.
Back at the table, it back to him starting at me.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking up. “If you’re not going to study, at least stop staring. You’re like a migraine with good bone structure.”
His low laugh draws a sharp look from the librarian at the front desk. He doesn’t seem to care. “A compliment and an insult in one sentence. Efficient.”
“You’re distracting.”
“That’s not what you mean,” he says, voice infuriatingly smooth.
I grit my teeth, flipping a page harder than necessary. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”
His smirk fades, just barely. “More than you think.”
The shift unsettles me. For once, he’s not baiting me. He sits forward, resting his arms on the table, and the intensity of his gaze makes my throat go dry.
“Like what?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He goes quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, as though weighing how much to give away. “Family. Loyalty. Debt.” His voice drops low, almost thoughtful. “The kind of things you don’t walk away from. The kind that own you, whether you like it or not.”
A chill slides through me. It sounds less like a confession and more like a truth carved into him.
Softer than I mean to, “And you think I don’t take things seriously?”
He tilts his head, studying me in a way that makes me feel naked. “You take everything too seriously. You carry your past like a chain. I can see it in the way you sit, the way you bite down every word before you let it out.”
My pulse stumbles. No one has ever said it out loud. Not like that.
I want to deny it, to laugh it off, but my voice comes out quieter than I mean, “You don’t know me,” I whisper.
His mouth curves, not a smirk this time but something smaller, sharper. “Not yet.”
The silence between us shifts, it’s heavier now, charged with something I don’t want to name. I look back down at my notes, trying to steady my hand enough to write, but the words blur on the page.
Then his fingers slide one of my books toward him, brushing mine in the process, I don’t pull away as quickly as I should.
And then, before I can stop myself, I hear my own voice saying, “When I was fifteen… I tried to kill myself.”
The words hang in the air like glass, sharp and fragile. My chest burns. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t plan to. Maybe it was the way he was watching me, like he’d already peeled back the skin to see what I hid underneath.
His expression doesn’t change. No pity. No horror. Just stillness. Maybe a little bit of recognition. “And?” he asks quietly.
“And nothing.” My throat feels raw. “I’m still here.”
Something flickers in his eyes, something I can’t name. He leans back again, voice smooth but softer now. “Then you’re stronger than most.”
I want to laugh. Strong isn’t how I would describe myself. Broken, maybe. Damaged beyond repair? Yes. But not strong.
I take an altoid from my bag and put it in my mouth.
“And what about you?” I ask, forcing the spotlight back on him. “What chain are you carrying around?”
His smile returns, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That, Nastasya, would take more than a library session to explain.”
We fall quiet again, but the silence is different now. Not oppressive, but alive, humming with everything unsaid. My fingers brush his when I reach for the book he’d slid closer.
I’ve been laying on my bed starting at my ceiling for the past hour and sleep just won’t come. Damn ADHD brain will never let me rest. I pop two of my pills, my snacks, laptop, and wrap my blanket over my shoulders. Two-seconds later I’m knocking on Ro’s door. Hopefully she’s up.
“Oh hey Stass! What’s up?”
I hold out my bag of snacks, “Can’t sleep. Movie night?”
“Can I pick the movie?”
“Only if it’s horror.”
“Always,” she says.
“Shoes off, Asian house rules,” We both laugh and she leads me inside.
I need to do some serious decorating, my room is so boring and plain.
Ro’s room is exactly what you’d expect it to be.
Her walls are painted black and she’s got posters on one end and on the other this red, heart-shaped vanity.
Her makeup splayed across the top. A checkered rug sits on the floor, and all her dope shoes lined along the wall.
“Ok, I’m definitely moving in. Hi roomie,” I joke.
Her bed is toped with a fluffy comforter and one of those thick blankets that has the tiger on it. I used to have the same one growing up. They are perfect for cozy nights, and have the perfect weight to them.
“Here,” she stretches her arm out to me, “let me see your laptop, and you get cozy on the bed. I’ll hook it up to my projector.”
I do as she says, getting comfortable on her bed, snacks in hand, as I watch her pull down a white projector screen that’s anchored to her ceiling. Well, that’s convenient.
She finishes setting everything up and comes to sit next to me.
She pulls up a webpage and scrolls through the list before hitting play on a title. A Tale of Two Sisters, displays on the screen.
“Hope you’re okay with subtitles. It’s a Korean film.”
“Subtitles are fine by me.”
I pull the snacks I brought out the bag and place them in front of us.
Gummy sharks, sour worms, chocolate twizzlers and some hot Cheetos for some crunch. Gotta mix the sweet with the savory.
We start snacking and few minutes in I feel Ro shift beside me, the mattress dipping under her weight. When I glance over, she’s watching me instead of the movie, her head propped on her hand.
“Okay,” she says gently, cutting through the silence. “What’s going on with you?”
My stomach tightens. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been zoning out all night.” She nudges my leg with her foot. “And your eyes…” she tilts her head, squinting at me. “They look blown out, like a cat’s. You look like you’ve taken something.”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck. She’s not wrong, I did take something. More than I should have. It’s the only way to quiet my head most days, to dull the sharp edges of memories that never leave me alone. I hate that she noticed. I hate that anyone could.
“I’m not really sure where to start,” I tell her. My minds just been all over the place.
I look down at my hands, twisting the edge of the blanket between my fingers. “I’m not fine, Ro.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
She stays quiet, waiting. Giving me the moment that I need.
“I’ve been trying so hard to act like I’m okay, but I’m not.
I… I self-medicate, sometimes. Too much.
” My voice cracks, shame coating every syllable.
“It’s the only thing that makes me feel like I can breathe.
But underneath it, the truth is still there.
I struggle so much with what happened that night.
With happened afterwards. Some days it feels like I’m still stuck back there, like nothing’s ever going to change, no matter how much time passes.
I feel so much guilt. Why couldn't it have been me? Why was I the one who got to live?”
I force in a shaky breath. “I miss my mom so much. She died on my birthday. How am I supposed to celebrate a day thats filled with so much pain now? It all still feels like it happened yesterday. She was the only person who made me feel like I was enough. And when she was gone, it just… broke me.”
The words tumble faster now, like I’ve opened a door I can’t close.
“And then there’s Thoren. He wasn’t just my best friend.
He was—” my throat closed, forcing me to swallow hard, “—everything. The day I ran away, we got into a car accident. I watched him die. And it’s my fault.
I’m the reason we were in that car. I can still hear it, still see it.
Sergio told me he didn’t make it, and I lost myself completely.
That’s why I ended up in the hospital. Three years of…
trying to exist without him. Without her.
Some days I still wonder if I even deserve to be here. ”
The confession hangs between us, heavier than the silence, heavier than the glow of the projector.
Ro reaches over, sliding her hand into mine, steady and sure.
“You do deserve to be here,” she says, her voice quiet but unshakable.
“You’ve survived things most people couldn’t.
You’re still here, Stass, and that matters.
You matter. You and I are more alike than you think.
I see you Stassi. We’re survivors you and I. ”
I blink hard, my vision blurring. “The pills—”
“I don’t care about the pills,” she cuts in, her voice firm but kind.
“I mean, I care because I don’t want you hurting yourself with them.
But I’m not judging you for it. We’ve all got a vice.
Something that makes the pain bearable. I won't judge you for yours. I get why you do it. I just don’t want you to think you have to numb yourself when you’re with me. You don’t have to hide with me.”
The kindness in her words undoes me, cracks something wide open in my chest. My tears spill hot, but her hand stays wrapped around mine like an anchor.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
She pulls me closer, my head finds its place on her shoulder like it was meant to be there all along. “No more carrying it alone,” she murmurs into my hair. “Not with me.”
The tightness in my chest eases, just a little, as I let myself lean into her warmth, into the steady rise and fall of her breathing. The hum of the movie blurs into the background, and slowly, my exhaustion catches up with me.
My eyes drift shut, her arm curled protectively around me, holding me together as sleep finally drags me under.
Two girls, on a too-small twin bed, finding rest in the kind of silence that feels almost like healing.
I’m woken up by the warmth of the sun coming through the window. It takes me a moment to remember I spent the night at Ro’s. Our legs are entangled together. Flashes of last night start pouring in, and I feel the embarrassment on my cheeks.
She stirs next to me.
“Good morning bed hog,” she yawns. Sitting up on the bed, stretching her arms over her head.
“Me, a bed hog?” I tease, “You had me squashed against the wall all night.”
We both burst out in laughter.
“Hey,” I grab her hand, “thank you..for last night. For listening, and not judging. Thank you for being here for me.”
“No thanks needed. You’re my friend, that’s what we do for each other.”
Then there’s a knock at her door, before it swings open and Shina walks in.
“Well, well, well. What’s this? You bitches have a sleepover and don’t even invite me?”
“Sorry, kinda last minute thing. I promise to invite you next time,” I tell her.
We all get ready for the day then leave to our respective classes.
It’s been nice getting to know the both of them. They have made my time here bearable.
I never thought I’d have this… people who actually see me, not the broken pieces or the name tied to me, but me.
Ro and Shina… they’re not just friends, they’re proof that I can still belong somewhere.
That laughter doesn’t always have to end in silence.
That not everyone leaves. I didn’t think I’d ever be the kind of girl who had this.
Late-night talks, inside jokes, someone who would fight for me just because they want to.
I don’t know what I’d do without them. For once, I’m…
glad I stayed long enough to find people like them.