But I shook my head suddenly.
“No.”
Zian’s expression barely changed, but I could feel him watching me carefully.
“I don’t want revenge,” I said again, my voice trembled a little. “I’m tired. I just… I can’t do this anymore.”
The grief already felt too heavy to carry and revenge sounded exhausting and dangerous.
I looked back toward my mother’s grave and shook my head again.
I bet she'd want me to live peacefully.
“I just want peace,” I whispered weakly. “That’s all.”
Silence stretched between us for a second and then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small brown file that looked slightly worn at the edges.
He held it toward me quietly.
My brows furrowed. “What is that?”
His expression darkened. “Take it.”
Cautiously, I reached for the file with trembling fingers.
