(Ayra's POV)
"Ayra," he called out softly,
I turned slowly, summoning every ounce of strength I had to mask the storm raging inside me.
He walked to my side, eyes filled with manufactured worry.
"I heard what happened… I came as soon as I could."
He reached for my hands and gently enclosed them in his.
My skin crawled at his touch, but I forced myself to stay still. Not now. Not here. Not yet.
"I'm… I'm so sorry about your grandmother," he said, voice low and coated with sympathy. "How are you holding up?"
If only he knew how badly I wanted to snap his neck right there.
"I'm… surviving," I whispered, pulling my hands back under the pretense of wiping my eyes. "Thank you for coming."
My gaze lingered on him, too long, then I suddenly asked.
"Who told you about what happened? How did you know I was here?"
