DEA
“I’m not...” I begin, the words catching as I shook my head, as if even my body no longer fully agrees with me. “I’m not who you think I am, Arthur. I don’t know why you keep looking at me like that, like I’m someone you’ve already lost and found again. How many times do I have to tell you that I am not Maria? I am Dea Mirage. I am not their luna so please, let them rise.”
His fingers settled beneath my chin with a gentleness that guided my face upward until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Look at me then. Say that again, and this time, don’t look away when you do. I want to hear it from you while you’re looking right at me.”
The words gather in my throat, but they refuse to come out the same way they did before.
Because I cannot say it again.
Because something inside me he
