Page 80 of Carved in Ruin

“Nothing too bad,” he drawls. “Just that your first crush was some guy named Sasuke from Naruto.”

I freeze, staring at him in horror.

He smirks, but it’s laced with irritation. “And that, and I quote, ‘he still could get it.’”

Oh. My. God.

He doesn’t stop. “You also mentioned you’d like to set your English literature degree on fire most days, and that you’ve always been terrible at aiming, which is why the bullet ended up in your shoulder instead of somewhere fatal.” His tone hardens at that last part. “All things I do not fucking like, Mila.”

I groan, pressing my hands to my face. The aiming part I can understand; it’s fair. But Sasuke? Seriously? Of all the things to irritate him, it’s that?

“You’re jealous of an anime character, Rafael?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

His eyes narrow, the smirk gone. “I’m jealous ofeverythingthat takes your attention away from me.”

It’s ridiculous—absolutely absurd. He’s not joking. Not even a little.

“I’m being serious, Rafael,”

“So am I,” he bites out. “You think it’s funny? You think it’s cute to talk about how some imaginary man can ‘still get it’ when I’m the only one who can?” His voice lowers. “I don’t care if it’s some cartoon ninja or the fucking Pope—no one gets to live rent-free in your head except me. Not a memory, not a fantasy, not a dream. Just. Me.”

“The Pope?”

“Don’t test me, Mila,” he growls, and I see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like even he knows how ridiculous he’s being. But he’s dead serious too, and the combination makes my pulse race.

“You know he’s not real, right?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafael mutters. He reaches out, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gesture that feels achingly intimate despite the storm in his eyes. “You’re mine, Mila. Mine in every way. And if I have to fight your childhood crushes, imaginary or not, I will. I’ll win.”

It’s unhinged. Completely insane. But it’s Rafael, and somehow, that makes it… swoon-worthy. My cheeks flush, and I look away, focusing on the sink as I finish washing my hands.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, but my voice is softer now.

“And you’re mine,” he says, like that’s the only argument that matters.

Thirty Four

Tearing us Both Apart

Mila

The black dress clings to my skin, the Louis Vuitton pumps digging into the wet ground as I stand between Rafael and Layla. The sky hangs low, heavy with unfallen rain. The scent of earth and impending storms saturates the air. Rafael has outdone himself. A small, intimate funeral for my mother, just the way she deserved. A proper tombstone, flowers, and a goodbye befitting her memory. It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.

To my left, Layla leans in close. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

We’d had it out recently. It was a total come-to-Jesus moment. Layla screamed at me until her voice broke. She even lunged at me with fists clenched like she’d forgotten I was still recovering. Rafael and Anatoly barely pulled her off before shecrushed me. Then she hugged me so tightly I thought my stitches would rip open. Sisters are weird like that.

“You didn’t destroy my life,” she had said. “You made it better. I would choose you, in every lifetime, over and over again.” Then, with that fiery spark in her eye, she added, “But if you ever shut me out like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Rafael hated that part. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened.

I love her so much. That’s why I’d been terrified to face her. What if she hated me? What if she looked at me with disgust for killing Milos? But instead, all she’d said was,Good riddance.

“I know now, Layla,” I lie. The truth is, I’ll always feel guilty. It clings to me like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. But I’m learning to live with it.

I take a step toward the grave, the bouquet of flowers heavy in my hands. Rafael’s grip tightens around my waist, just enough to remind me of his presence, before he reluctantly lets me go. He’s been clingy lately, like he knows I’m slipping away from him piece by piece.

I kneel by the grave, placing the flowers gently on the dirt. My shoulder aches from holding them too long, a reminder of my limitations.

---