Yavannah Constantine.
Breathe, Yavannah.
It was the mantra I had to chant to myself to make sure I was still functioning.
The elevator felt like a cage, and I couldn't wait to get out of the building. My body felt heavy, as if the weight of what I had just witnessed was pressing down on my very soul.
My knees wobbled, and my legs felt like jelly. The world around me was a blur, the sounds of the street fading into a distant hum. All I could hear were my own frantic thoughts, circling around the same image over and over again—Adonis, standing there with her.
My best friend's naive sister.
My heart twisted painfully, a knot forming in my throat as I tried to swallow down the hurt. But it kept rising, pushing against the walls I had tried to build around myself. Why? The question echoed in my mind, but there was no answer, no explanation that could ease the ache in my chest. How could I have been so blind? So naïve?
