He needed it.
And I understood that.
He’d been through hell today. He’d stood before our cousins, faced his past, been interrogated, on top of a life spent being marked as dangerous and barely trusted. And through all of that, he’d been honest. Brave.
Meanwhile, we’d lied.
About our age.
My throat closed up.
It had seemed harmless before. Logical, even.
Scared he’d seen us like nuisances.
Youth.
Inexperience.
The kind of women that got dismissed, pitied, or protected but never taken seriously.
He was already a rogue when we were still in our mother’s belly.
How could we expect him not to see us as children?
So we’d lied.
And then… it had been too late to turn back.
Because telling him the truth would’ve changed how he looked at us.
Wouldn’t it?
But now… it changed anywa
