Page 79 of A Life Chosen

Mathias raised a hand to his face then looked down at the blood on his fingers.

Rayan took a towel from the kitchen and pressed it against the man’s nose to stem the flow. “Sit. Look up.”

Mathias sat down at the kitchen table, tilting his head back.

“You should lie down.”

Mathias lay on Rayan’s bed. The room was as shabby as the rest of the apartment, its decor from another era, a relic of the island’s heyday before the messy takeover that had led to its division.

Rayan returned with a glass of water and a pack of painkillers and set them down on the nightstand. He looked the same yet entirely different. Inaccessible, separate from Mathias. Seeing him at his work, Mathias had felt a childish sense of betrayal. How easily he’d moved on.

Mathias closed his eyes. Rayan’s scent was everywhere. After so long, it came as an assault, overwhelming him. His head throbbed, and he felt woozy.

He woke suddenly without realizing he’d fallen asleep. The room was dark, the door cracked open, allowing a sliver of light to cut through the room. Rayan appeared in the frame.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

The man sighed, pushed open the door, and sat down at the end of the bed. “You know, I’m not a stray dog. You don’t get to take me in then throw me back out again.”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“The fuck you will. I’m more to you than that.”

Mathias stopped short, silent.

“I know how hard you work not to feel things,” Rayan said softly. “It takes a lot to feel nothing at all.”

The ache was back, cracking open his skull.

“Talk to me,” Rayan murmured.

“About?”

“Anything. You, life before I metyou.”

“Shall we braid each other’s hair while we’re at it?” he scoffed.

“Mathias, it’s only me.”

Mathias lay back on the pillow, the fight gone out of him. He stared at the ceiling—the cracks in the molding, the exposed lightbulb hanging like a hypnotist’s pendulum. “I was never meant to be here,” he said finally. “I’m a mistake my mother didn’t have the courage to correct.”

Rayan’s eyes softened. “She cares for you.”

“Tell me about that.” Mathias sat up, lips curling. “Since you’re so clearly an expert.”

Rayan stiffened, and Mathias felt a sharp spike in his chest, his mind conjuring the cruelest thing. He’d seen the file, read the coroner’s report. Mathias thought of the woman’s inscription, her smiling face in the photo. He remembered how Rayan had woken beside him, speaking her name.

A memory: Mathias had been a child of five or six, standing with his back pressed to the door, listening to his parents scream.

“I told you to get rid of it.”

“You thought things would change because you were stupid enough to get knocked up?”

His mother had gone silent then, as though the truth could not be contested.

“For what it’s worth,” Rayan said, eyes on him, unflinching, “I’m glad you’re here.”

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