đđđđđđ
âI did not know how to answer that part. So I didn't.
âHe faced me squarely, his breath heavy. "If you were given all you deserved in lifeâpeace, money, love, powerâ"
â"Where is this going, Mikhail?"
â"Tell me, Lena," he said. "Would you share it with your family? Even after all they have done to you?"
âI hated delving into that infected, rotten wound on my heart. I preferred letting it fester to looking too deep into it and finding something that would only further hurt me. He did not push me to answer, but he spoke for me.
â"Is it guilt, Lena?" he asked gently, as the wind whooshed by like some omen.
âSilence descended like an anvil cracking open my chest. He had hit the nail so hard on the head that I was sure the impact had left my bones quaking. But still, again, I did not answer. The whooshing continued past us as Mikhail's voice broke the silence that I refused to fill.
