Page 37 of The Words of Us

He reaches out, placing a hand on mine. “You deserve honesty, Evie. You deserve someone who’s upfront with you from the start. This sounds like a huge betrayal.”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek before I can stop it. “I just don’t understand why she didn’t tell me. I gave her so many chances to open up, to trust me. And now, after everything, I don’t know if I can trust her at all.”

Kenneth squeezes my hand, his eyes full of empathy. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do here. But maybe she was scared. I mean, hiding something that big...she must have been terrified of what it would do to your relationship.”

I laugh bitterly, wiping at my eyes. “Well, it’s done plenty. She’s gone now, and I’m left here, trying to figure out what the hell is real anymore.”

He lets out a long breath, giving me a look that’s both compassionate and firm. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Take some time, Evie. Let yourself feel everything, and then decide what you want. You deserve to take the time you need to process this.”

I nod, but the weight of his words only seems to press down harder on me. “I’m scared, Kenneth. I’m scared that I’ll never be able to look at her the same way again. And I don’t want to lose her, but...I don’t know if I can forgive this.”

Kenneth is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is soft but steady. “Whatever happens, just remember that you deserve someone who is honest with you. You don’t have to settle for less, even if it hurts to let go.”

I bite my lip, blinking back more tears. “I know. I just... I thought we had something real.”

He squeezes my hand one last time before letting go. “Maybe you still do, but that’s for you to figure out. And you don’t have to figure it out today.”

I nod, feeling a little lighter now that I’ve said it all out loud. The tightness in my chest hasn’t disappeared, but at least I’m not carrying it alone anymore.

“I’m going to shelve some books,” I say, needing to distract myself for a little while.

Kenneth gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll take over the counter for a bit. Take your time.”

I find myself back in the poetry section. It’s where Sasha and I spent so many evenings curled up with books, sharing quiet moments that felt like they were ours alone. Now it feels different. Every corner of the store is filled with her, with memories that I’m not sure I can trust anymore.

I glance at the stack of notebooks on one of the tables, the ones Sasha left here. Her poetry. Her words.

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the cover of the top notebook. Part of me doesn’t want to read it. What if the words feel hollow now? What if everything she wrote was as much a lie as the life she kept hidden from me?

But then I pick it up, unable to help myself. I open to the first page, my eyes scanning the familiar lines of her handwriting. It’s a poem I’ve read before, one she shared with me the night we first kissed. It’s about love, about trust, about building something beautiful out of fragile moments.

We build our walls with fragile care,

Thin as glass, they’re always there.

A single look, a fleeting glance,

Can break them down with just a chance.

The words hit me differently now. I’d thought it was about us, about the way we were slowly opening up to each other, letting our walls come down. But now, I wonder if it was about her, about the walls she was keeping up all along.

I flip through more pages, reading poems I’ve never seen before. Some are about love, others about fear, about hiding, about running. The lines blur together as I read, my heart aching with every verse. I’m searching for something, for some clue,some explanation that will make it all make sense. But all I find are more questions.

How much of this was about me? How much of it was about her past, the life she never told me about?

I close the notebook, feeling the weight of it in my hands. The words are beautiful, but they’re also haunting. They make me realize just how much I don’t know about Sasha, how much she’s kept hidden behind her poetry.

I sit down at the small table, the one where we used to sit together, and I let the silence wash over me. I want to understand her, to believe that there’s more to her than the secrets she kept. But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can separate the woman I fell for from the lies she told.

As I sit there, lost in thought, the bell above the door rings again. I don’t look up right away, but then I hear a familiar voice—soft, hesitant.

“Evie?”

I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest. I know that voice.

I know it too well.

Slowly, I lift my head, and there she is—Sasha, standing just inside the doorway, her lovely green eyes wide with uncertainty. She looks nervous, like she’s not sure if she should be here, but there’s something else in her expression too. A kind of desperation, like she’s here because she has no other choice.

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