Page 28 of Twisted Promise

“I’m sorry.”

Anya wanted to say something but could only give him a weakened glare and a defeated drop of her shoulders.

And he knew, with vile certainty in his eyes, she forgave him.

“Have you two made up?” the interviewer gossiped. “As friends?”

Neither of them answered.

She picked up the tablet and opened the live chat to scroll for interesting ones as a laidback segue into their previous interview.

“Your ex doesn’t sound that good for you,” the interviewer read off the tablet.

Alessio wanted to shoot the messenger.

“That’s for me to decide,” he said, and he wanted to make that very clear. “I’m good for her.”

Anya looked embarrassed as she tried to hide her face from the camera by shoving her nose into the high collar of her pullover.

The interviewer observed Anya’s reaction, her wobbly lips protecting the stretch of her teeth from showing.

“Taking her back would be like taking leftovers from a rat-infested restaurant.” The woman’s brows furrowed, but that was unparalleled to the shadows that covered half of his face.

Something dark and unspoken lurked between the shadowed contours of his face, and the lightened side did nothing to hide it.

Somehow, a few awful comments had weaseled through the filters. Anya didn’t look bothered by it, though.

“Trash knows itself the best,” Alessio bit out.

Nobody in the room knew who he was talking about.

The comments, however, went wild with speculations. The most common ones said he was aiming that at the rude commenter, while a handful took it as him hating on his ex-girlfriend.

He thought he made how he felt obvious.

The interviewer frantically scrolled a big stretch down the comments and stopped at one like she won the lottery.

“When did you fall out of love?” she read aloud.

Alessio didn’t know how to answer that. He loved her, but he also didn’t want to—maybehe was largely confused and needed Anya to guide him through the murky trenches of his haywire emotions.

He almost lost her during the time he loved her the most. He didn’t want to experience that again. He’d go crazy if he lost her.

“It sounds like you’re still in love with him,” the interviewer mused.

He remembered that winter, with a light tingle inside his neck, and for the second time in his life, he despised his remarkable memory.

That night was beautiful, with the stars falling apart across the glassy sky, and so was Anya when his whispered confession in her hair ended.

But winter was cruel.

“I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”she spoke softly, like she didn’t want to disturb the restless stars.

He would’ve said it again and again until his heart ignited with embarrassment.

However, when Anya looked at him, bearing the iridescent slivers reflected beyond the vast dark sky and with all the grief of the dying sun, she held his hand dearly. Genuine yet guarded.

I’m scared, love. I want to run away.

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