Anastasia “Hey, can we have a chat?” I said, my voice steady but distant. I didn’t look at him, afraid that seeing his face might completely unravel me. I was dabbing at my cuts and blood with alcohol pads, trying to clean up the mess Jonah had left behind. The silence stretched on, and his pause was almost unbearable.“Yeah,” he finally said, stepping into the bathroom with the same cautious tread he’d used when we first met. I turned around slowly, and as soon as he saw me, he looked away, his eyes dropping to the floor. He stood there, leaning casually against the wall, but I could see the concern in his posture. Blood, cuts, and scrapes peeked out from under my thin undergarments—nothing too severe, but enough to make me feel battered. “Hey there, Anastasia,” he greeted, his voice hesitant, caught between offering comfort and holding back, unsure because we weren’t officially together.“Eh, it’s not that bad,” I said, trying to downplay the pain even though it really sucked. My w
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