Page 117 of The Code of You

She was quiet for a moment. "Does that matter? Even if ten percent is real, the other ninety is manipulation. That’s not a life, Pand. That’s captivity.”

My chest tightened. "But he . . . he makes me feel alive, Isobel. For the first time in years, I actually feel alive.”

"That’s the manipulation too, Pand.”

"Is it?” My voice cracked. "He healed wounds in me I’d forgotten existed. He sees me. My deepest longings. My hidden desires.”

"Or he tore those wounds open so he could heal them. That’s what manipulators do. They create problems that only they can solve.”

I shook my head. "No. They were always there. Since I was small. He’s just the first one who saw them.”

"This is madness!” Isobel’s voice broke. "You can’t think clearly anymore. You have to get away from him.”

"No!” The thought of leaving him cut off my air. My pulse beat in my ears. "I need him. It’s like an addiction.”

"If you won’t go for yourself, go for me. For us. Please, Pand. Remember who you were before he swallowed you.”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight. The silence stretched.

Until Isobel breathed, "I’m scared for you.”

Chapter 30

Pandora

We walked in silence along the dusty lane, Neo one step ahead of me, his shoulders taut as steel cables. A week had passed since our fight. I had kept my distance from him as best I could, and he hadn’t tried to close it. Seven days in an apartment barely large enough for two people, let alone two people who couldn’t look at each other. I slept alone in the bedroom. He stayed in the kitchen at night, searching through data he probably already knew. During the day he disappeared for hours. We’d fallen into this silent dance around the same rooms, never touching, never speaking, never looking at each other. But I felt him anyway, in the room he’d just left, in the air that felt different after he’d been there.

When I went shopping, he always came along. But today he was different from usual. He seemed more tense. The afternoon sun threw long shadows between the buildings but gave no warmth. A cat sat on a dented bin and watched us with half-closed eyes. We passed a wall where a faded inscription was visible. Something in Cyrillic, crossed out and painted over with graffiti. His steps were hard, as if he was taking it out on the asphalt. A streetlamp flickered once as we passed, almost imperceptible.

We turned onto a side street where tables stood on the pavement. Waiters balanced trays between the customers, and the clinking of dishes mixed with fragments of conversation in several languages—Slavic, English, something I didn’t recognize. The smell of roasted coffee and warm croissants hung in the air.

Neo kept walking. His hands hung loose at his sides, but his fingers twitched in small, involuntary movements.

A woman’s phone at one of the tables beeped. She frowned and shook it slightly. The screen flickered. I glanced at Neo. His jaw was set.

We passed a bus stop where the electronic display with the departure times jumped to a different line, flickered, then snapped back. A man waiting tapped it.

"Here,” Neo said suddenly, pointing to one of the cafés.

"Is it safe to go in?” I stopped. "There are quite a few people.”

"You want a normal relationship. Normal couples go to cafés.”

My mouth fell open. The conversation with Isobel . . . He’d heard everything. Of course. "Neo . . .” I reached for his shoulder, then pulled my hand back quickly. It was like touching an electric fence. "Damn,” I said. "What’s happening with you?”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a bitter smile. "I am . . . charged.”

The café was small and warm, with wooden tables and bookshelves along the walls. Students sat in front of open laptops. Neo chose a table in the corner, far from the other patrons. He sat with his back to the wall, his eyes scanning the room like a predator mapping escape routes.

The waitress came to us, a young woman with freckles and a friendly smile. "What can I get you?” Since she addressed us in English, she must have noticed that we weren’t from here.

"Two coffees,” I said, because Neo was silent.

When she left, the espresso machine behind the counter hummed loudly. A bang. Then silence. Neo stared at his hands. His fingers rested flat on the table, but I could see the small muscles in his forearms twitching.

"Neo.”

He looked up. His eyes were too bright, as if lit from within. "I’m fine.”