Fragile

The moment those words left Zylan's lips, the fragile hope Naomi had clung to shattered, dissolving into nothing—no, not just shattered—crumbling into powder. Why had she dared to hope for something better between them? Hadn't she been the one who had planned, from the start, to escape this nightmare? So why did it hurt so much now, as though someone were slowly driving a knife into her chest, twisting it deeper with every beat of her heart?

She sat there, silent, refusing to play his game any longer. Why had she even started? Yes, it was just a game. She knew that. And yet, when he spoke those words, a bitter realization washed over her. Had she really been hoping he would lie? That he'd say something—anything—that might soothe her wounded pride, offer some reassurance, even if it was false? But no. He hadn't. It was just a game, and he'd been honest. Brutally honest.