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Krish…
God, I missed my older brother.
I missed the way he used to say my name. The way he’d say it in that special wonderful way, reminding me how loved I was.
Love.
The exact opposite of hate.
Love…that was the biggest monster here.
The hulking elephant in the room.
I could never hate you, Henri…and that’s the problem.
“Ily—” His hand grabbed my chin, his fingers gripping hard. “Open your eyes.”
Ily…
Whenever he used my name, it made me feel all itchy inside. Squirrelly and snarly because he didn’t know what it meant. He mocked everything he wanted with his tone.
I had an awful feeling that each time he said my name, it only magnified the curse between us.
Oh, that’s sad.
Cursed to always say the words but never earn them in return.
My eyelashes fluttered open.
He needs to know.
It might help.
Or it might destroy him.
I couldn’t tell how he’d react if he knew what he said each and every time he called me Ily.
Would he find it funny or get mad?
Would he scream at me?
Hurt me?
With eyes far too heavy, I caught his stare.
He still didn’t look like him.
He’d transformed into a colder, crueller, dead-eyed version of the man I’d fallen hopelessly in lust with. The puddle of golden light from the bedside lamp avoided him, allowing all the shadows in the room to cling to his body.
Darkness beneath his eyes. Blackness along his jaw. Shadows swirled over his skin like moving tattoos.
Licking my lips, I tried to pull my chin out of his tight hold.
When he didn’t let me go, I slurred, “Do you prefer calling me Ily or Little Nightmare?”
He didn’t answer the question, but he did let me go.
Sitting heavily on the bed, he rubbed his hand on the sheets as if his fingers stung from holding me.
