Yala’s POV
Megan finally took a deep breath, and placed her hands on her temples, massaging them. I suspect she has a headache.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.
She shook her head.
I exhaled deeply and then pulled out the cigarette I had stashed next to my dress, lighting it up.
"Want a smoke?" I offered, acknowledging the immense pressure we've been under lately. "It helps calm the nerves," I added.
She looks at me as if I were a seven-headed monster.
"No, I don't smoke," she replied.
I smiled at her and said, "I didn't use to smoke either, but unfortunately, dealing with so much pressure will make you seek refuge in whatever could offer some relief." I confessed, feeling a pang of sadness because this wasn't something I wanted to do.
"Cigarettes are poison," she stated.
"Yes
