80. TOO LATE

BASH

I hate that look; the look of hope, of spring and future. I hate it when she did that. Because I have to crush it and stomp it down. She didn't put up a fight this time. She left suddenly, and slowly. I slumped down into my chair, looking outside the city with a very dark future awaiting me. This should be supposed to be a victory. She left. I should be at ease. I should tell myself how fucking safe it was for her now that she is out of the picture. But my heart wants something else.

It raced when she stood outside the elevator, holding her things. I was expecting another fight, another painting, another Don't-do-this-Bash dialogue. She might have expected a grand don't-go gesture from me. I knew that flicker in her eyes when she hoped for something good. But she and I were never good. I gave her a nod, watching that little flame of hope dying, and she hung her head to go back.

"Hana is gone," Dhalia informed me as soon as she walked into my office. "She left a n