ALPHA JAKE
The tension was palpable, and I braced myself for the confrontation I knew was coming.
Fatima didn’t say anything at first, just moved around the kitchen with sharp, precise movements. Finally, she turned to me, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line.
“So,” she said, her tone icy. “It’s true.”
I set the kettle down, avoiding her gaze. “Fatima, I—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “You lied to us, Ayla. To me.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. “I didn’t mean to lie,” I said, my voice shaking. “I was just… scared.”
Bab Populer