"You're going to want more!" Tahra snapped, her voice louder than she intended. She saw a flicker of pain cross Arshe's face as he took a step back. She exhaled a long sigh, already regretting the outburst. This wasn't how she had hoped to settle things between them. But here they were—she would speak, he would argue, and she'd snap at him again, while he gave her those pleading eyes, begging her to reconsider.
She was tired. Exhausted. And she could only think of one way to end the conversation.
"Fine! We'll be friends again, Arshe," she muttered, her voice laced with resignation.
Arshe felt a rush of excitement at her words, but he kept his composure, hiding the triumph in his eyes. He moved to stand in front of her, relieved to see her tiredly raise her head to meet his gaze. "You promise, Tahra? No take-backs!" His tone was light, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed how much this meant to him.
