Jane.
“What’s wrong, Jane?” Amira asked, her voice filled with concern. “Ever since we left the club, you’ve been unhappy and moody. What happened in there?”
My chest felt tight, the weight of pain I couldn’t say out loud pressing against my ribs until I could barely breathe. How could I tell her?
How could I explain that seeing him again had torn open wounds I thought were finally getting better? That his words—those mean, had made me want to scratch at my own skin just to feel something other than this heavy emptiness?
“I’m fine,” I replied, trying to sound convincing. “Please... don’t worry about me.”
“No.” Amira’s eyes probing mine as she grabbed my hands, her touch warm against my cold fingers. “I won’t take that answer. I can see you falling apart right in front of me. Please, J
