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A soft knock at the door and thankfully interrupts my spiral of self-recrimination.

"Come in," I call.

Svetlana walks in. I sit up a little straighter. I haven’t seen her all day since I sent her out this morning to look on Amara. And if she’s here, then maybe she finally has some news.

"I saw your sister today,” she says. “From the distance of course.”

My heart leaps to my throat. "Is she okay?"

"She’s fine physically," Svetlana replies. "But she's worried about you after a week of no contact. Very worried. She's been walking all over the neighborhood. Asking questions. I saw her at the barbershop and she stayed there chatting with the owner for a few hours, refusing to believe that you didn’t show up to work for all these days."

She’s been talking to Marcus? About me?

Guilt crashes over me at the fact that I’ve effectively abandoned both of them, and I cling to it because it’s the only way I can chase away the undeserved desire and heat that continues to squeeze at my heart.

“Did she notice you?” I start. “And she hasn’t gone back to our apartment, did she?”

“No on both counts.” Svetlana shakes her head. “She’s staying over at a friend’s place, like you said. A girl named Demaris Lewis, if I’m remembering correctly.”

I let out a small sigh of relief and nod. “Demaris is her best friend.”

“If you’d like me to pass her a message, something that will let her know that you are okay, I can do that. And I can still be discreet.”

I look at Svetlana, grateful for her offer, and think slowly about what I can say to Amara that only Amara would understand. But no matter what I can come up with, I know it’ll only compound her worry. And if she worries about me, she’s never going to stop looking.

But still… I have to tell hersomething.I owe her that much. Chewing my bottom lip, I wrack my brains for something, and slowly, an answer takes shape.

“If you can find a way, tell her this.” I look at Svetlana. “Miels is fine, and she just needs a couple of weeks to figure things out.”

“Miels?” Svetlana raises an eyebrow and she cocks her head in curiosity.

“It’s what she used to call me.” I look away and stare at my ghostly reflection in the dark window. “Before—” I stop myself just in time and force the words back down. “Before everything changed.”

“Miels,” Svetlana repeats the name softly. “I like it. It suits you much better than Indigo.”

“I know.” I nod, and suddenly my eyes are wet with tears.

I haven’t heard someone other than Amara call me Miels in almost two years. Not since that awful summer. I still remember the first time Amara accidentally called me that after I told her and Mom to call me Indigo. It was an accident. But I still got so mad at her that she started crying afterwards.

It was only after Mom and Dad died, I told her that if she wanted to call me Miels again, she could. But only when we’re with each other, where no-one else can hear.

Guilt scatters across my tongue, hot and bitter, and I wipe angrily at the tears that keep welling up around my eyes.

“Hey.” Svetlana sits down next to me and drapes her arm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss her, Svetlana.” I confess. “And I feel like every day that I’m here, I’m just abandoning her when she needs me now more than ever.”

“Your sister is strong, Indigo Malcolmovna. Just like you.”

“I’m not strong.”

“No?” She asks and leans in until I can start counting the strands of her black hair, a slight smile playing at her lips. “I heard from some of the other guards earlier that you stood up to Valentina Ivanovna three days ago.”

“Stood up?” I scoff lightly. “Is that what you call making a complete embarrassment of myself and needing Anatoly to come rescue me?”

Svetlana waves dismissively. “That old bitch hates everyone. Did she do that thing where she grabs you with those claws of hers?”

I reach up and touch my face. The indentations are gone. But the memory still lingers. “Yes.”