NARINE’S POV
I curled into the corner of the backseat, with my knees drawn to my chest, and my arms wrapped so tightly around myself it felt like I was trying to hold the pieces of me together. But they were already fracturing beneath the weight of everything I’d done. Tremors shook through me, deep and uncontrollable, and no matter how tightly I clenched my jaw, I couldn’t stop them.
So I stared out the window instead.
The trees blurred into streaks of green, smeared by the film of unshed tears clinging to my lashes. I blinked furiously, as if I could stop them from falling by sheer force of will. But it was pointless.
They slid down anyway. Silently. Tears that had no right to fall.
Because I was the one who hurt him.
I was the one who looked him in the eye and drove the knife in.
