ELARA
“Malcolm…” I whispered, the name slipping from my lips for the first time in more than seven years, like a fragile, sacred secret.
Fresh tears blurred my vision as I wept over my late best friend, and if I was entirely honest with myself, my very first childhood crush and love.
It was probably the exact reason our parents had officially betrothed us to each other at such a young age.
Inseparable, my mother had always fondly claimed, telling the story of how a tiny Malcolm had smiled brilliantly and gently wrapped his hand around my little finger when he came with his family to see me for the first time, just a month after my birth.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” I said over and over again into the empty room.
Lifting my head, I rested it heavily against the back of the sofa, star
