Aliyah’s POV
By the time I stepped off my bike in front of the house, my eyes were still swollen and raw from the tears I had shed in the restroom of that restaurant. No matter how many times I splashed water on my face, the redness wouldn’t fade. My reflection in the mirror had looked like a ghost. Pale, hollow, and broken.
I wanted to disappear, but fate wouldn’t let me.
Papa’s voice boomed the second I walked through the door. “Aliyah!”
My heart jumped, he was standing in the lobby, arms folded across his chest, his eyes dark with worry.
“Where were you?” His voice wasn’t angry, not yet, but firm, sharp like the edge of a blade.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Restroom.”
His brows furrowed. “Restroom? For hours?”
I shrugged, trying to sound casual,
