(Nafas)
I walk out through the university exit, hugging my own body, then lift my head and look at the dark, cloudy sky.
I take a deep breath.
My phone vibrates. I look at the screen.
Grandpa’s message...
He tells me I only have a few days left until the photos are exposed.
My hand settles over my stomach. My face tightens.
My eyes close, and I bend slightly from the pain.
I start walking toward the bus stop.
“—Nafas?”
With a frown, I turn toward the voice.
I stare at him.
“What are you doing here, Pedram?”
He looks at me sadly.
“If you answer your phone, I don’t need to come all the way here.”
I fold my arms across my chest again.
“Didn’t you think maybe I don’t want to talk?”
He steps closer.
“Please. We need to talk.”
I breathe out.
I’m in pain. The stomachache is dr
