Zarek.
After that stupid, painful, unforgivable night with Danika, something inside me broke in a way I couldn’t put back together.
It wasn’t a clean break. It was jagged—sharp edges scraping through every part of me that still remembered Valtira’s scent, her voice, her warmth.
Danika didn’t understand it. Or maybe she pretended not to.
Because after that night, she kept trying to get close to me, inching nearer any chance she got—giving me those soft smiles, brushing her fingers against my arm, lowering her lashes like we suddenly shared something intimate.
But we weren’t anything.
We would never be anything.
Every time she moved close, all I felt was disgust.
Disgust at myself—for letting that night happen.
Disgust that her scent had ever clung to my skin, invading the one pla
