His Book club
I should’ve been soaking in every bit of this moment, this celebration of finally being free from lies, of being president of the book club again.
But even as I raised my glass when April shouted, “To Arian, the president who always comes back stronger!” something in me felt heavy.
I clinked my glass with theirs, forcing a smile. The drink went down sharp and burning, but I welcomed it. It numbed the edge of everything swirling inside me, the guilt, the longing, the ache I couldn’t quite get rid of no matter how loud the laughter was.
After my third drink, the edges of the room began to blur. The lights seemed brighter, the laughter echoing strangely. I leaned back, eyes catching the glass d
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