Page 56 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

Nevertheless, I can’t risk losing a client. Curiosity wins out, and I swipe to accept.

"Hello?" I keep my voice neutral, guarded.

"Zara? Is that you?"

The voice is vaguely familiar, tugging at some distant memory I can’t quite place. "Who's asking?"

"It's Carl. Your cousin Carl."

Carl. We haven't spoken in years, not since his parents kicked me out at eighteen with nothing but the clothes on my back. While they stole my inheritance and destroyed my reputation amongst the extended family, Carl stood by and did nothing.

My breath catches. Carl. Images flash through my mind—hushed arguments behind closed doors, pitying glances, cold shoulders at family gatherings.

"Carl," I repeat, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. "It’s been a while."

"Too long," he says, an awkward chuckle escaping him. "How have you been?"

"Fine." I grip the phone tighter, suspicion coiling in my gut. "What do you want, Carl?"

"I… I wanted to talk. To catch up."

"Catch up?" I can't keep the incredulity from my tone. "After all these years?"

"I know, I know. It's been too long. But I've been thinking about you, about everything that happened…"

I close my eyes, willing away the memories of his parents' cruel words, their cutting remarks about my clothes, my dreams, my very existence. And Carl, always silent, always complicit. "Why now?" I ask, unable to keep a tremor from my voice.

"I've changed, Zara. I want to make things right."

I bite my lip, torn between hanging up and hearing him out. The old wounds still ache, but a part of me wonders—could he really have changed? Or is this just another ploy, another way to use me?

"Please," Carl says, his voice soft. "Just give me a chance to apologize."

Apology not accepted. "Save your breath, Carl."

I close my eyes the instant the words come out of my mouth. I didn’t wish to sound so harsh, but old pain lingers on the surface in terrible ways.

"Please, just give me a chance to make things right." There's a pleading note in his voice that gives me pause. "So much has changed since then. I'm not the same person I was back then."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" I scoff. "Once a coward, always a coward."

"I understand your skepticism," he says. "But people can change. I have. I want to prove myself to you if you'll give me the chance."

He sounds earnest, but I won't be fooled twice. "There's nothing you can do to make up for the past."

"I know," he says quietly. "But I have to try."

Silence falls between us. I grip the phone tighter, anger and hurt warring with the temptation to forgive. To move on.

I weigh my options. The smart thing would be to hang up, to protect myself from potential hurt. But another part of me, the part that still remembers the cousin who once shared my ice cream and laughed at my jokes, wants to listen. After all, Carl was also just a kid. Did he really have a choice, given that the choice to stand up for me would have been served with a dose of unfathomable anger by his parents?

The past can't be undone. But perhaps it can be laid to rest.

"One chance, Carl," I say at last. "Don't make me regret this."

"That's more than fair," Carl replies, audible relief in his voice. "How about Café Lumière on 5th Street? Tomorrow at 2?"

I nod, then remember he can't see me. "Okay. 2 pm."

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