Just because you hate me

di

to run upstairs to get the portable heater since the one downstairs wasn't in perfect working conditions. It lay near my feet as I quirked a silly brow at h

s hiding it from them, but I had no idea myself. Yes, I hated that she reminded me of my Beyza, but it wasn't r

a step, seemin

ed like she was in utter disbelief. She better have hurried up bec

infully familiar eyes glanced my way before sliding down to where the heate

finally

atic wave of my hand. "Yo

ures. Something entirely foreign to her. Something like anger. Please, I bet she even knew the 'a' to it. But judg

which was on the sofa and folded it into four equal sections, then

er behavior was an understatement of the day. Ciara Mirac didn't have it in her to raise her voice or even be a defying princess. I bet she

ility. What if she was losing so much weight because of

y arms and took in a lungful of air. I couldn't manage any funerals for some time. And that, too, of my dead fiancée's little s

yself for imaging such scenarios. She probably just had cold. But then again it s

seat on the dining table. Two minutes was mom's reply, but by the time table was ready

ow. It almost seemed suspicious or like dangerous. It definitely had something to do with this whole me at the dinner. Also, did I mention how my brother was making i

i

ughts. I really needed to

ne off, it dinged. It was from Dad, and trust me wh

the table and you were so calm I was almost convinced you were on drugs. Thank you fo

was floating on the ocean, taking me somewhere I'd rather not want to go. Dad's message kept circling my head even hours later as restlessness took over me bit by bit. At 3 in

t dotted my forehead like I'd run a marathon under the blazing sun. But the good thing? I relished in

to end. I felt like I'd liv

hrough the railing. I gulped, hard. It was an effort to raise my arm, to touch the curtains, to