His expression was a mix of emotions, ultimately settling into disdain as he said slowly, "No."
It felt like a knife slicing through my heart.
I had no idea what he had experienced over the past year that made him loathe me so deeply.
There was a part of me that resisted this reality, wanting to let go completely.
I asked numbly, "Why?"
"Annika, it was my mother who was killed. Tell me, what reason do I have to trust you?"
His words struck me like a thunderclap, shattering my world into pieces.
So my family and his family were responsible for each other's tragedies?
But why had my mother told me that my father had never wronged anyone?
