SARAYA’S POV:
The room felt heavier with each second that passed. Evan’s eyes blazed with an intensity that made my stomach churn. He wasn’t just angry; he was hurt, and his emotions seemed to wrestle for control over him.
I stood slowly, keeping my hands by my sides, palms open in a gesture of calm. My mind scrambled for a way to fix this, to make him doubt what he thought he saw.
“Evan,” I began softly, my voice as steady as I could make it. “You must have misunderstood. It wasn’t me you saw.”
His body stiffened, and his lips trembled as though the words he wanted to say were trapped behind a barrier. He balled his fists tightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice cracked, raw and strained.
“N-not… m-m-mistake,” he stammered, each word clawing its way out of his throat. “S-saw… you!” His finger shot toward me, shaking with anger. “At… w-w-window!”
My breath caught. I could feel the blood drain from my face, but I forced myself to stay calm.
“Evan,” I said gently, taking a cautious step forward. “I know you’re upset, but you’re confused. You think it was me, but I promise it wasn’t. Maybe it was someone else-”
“L-l-liar!” he interrupted, his voice rising to a shout. His face twisted in frustration, and he pounded his fist against his thigh as though punishing himself for struggling to speak.
“I’m not lying,” I said firmly, though my voice cracked at the end.
“I-I… s-saw!” he shouted, the words breaking apart. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he hit his temple with his fist. “N-not… s-stupid! Y-you th-think… c-can’t see?”
My chest tightened. Each word seemed like a battle for him, and it was tearing him apart.
“No, Evan,” I said quickly, my hands raised as if to halt his frustration. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I would never-”
“L-lies!” he snapped, cutting me off. His voice was louder now, filled with anger and pain. “Y-you… and… h-him! Y-you!”
He pointed at me again, his finger shaking violently.
“Evan, listen to me!” I pleaded. “You’re not thinking clearly. I wasn’t there-”
“Wh-whore!” The word exploded from him, mangled and harsh, but clear enough to sting like a slap.
I flinched, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp gasp.
“Evan…” My voice wavered, barely above a whisper.
“I-I… kn-know… wh-what… s-saw,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. His body trembled as he took a step back, his breathing ragged. “Y-you’re… j-just… l-like… th-them!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. His frustration, his pain-it was suffocating.
“P-pretend!” he spat, his words breaking apart as tears finally spilled over. “L-lying… a-always l-lying!”
“Evan, stop,” I said softly, reaching out a hand toward him. “You must be mistaken-”
“D-don’t… t-touch… me!” he yelled, jerking away from me.
My hand froze mid-air, and I slowly let it drop.
For a moment, the room was silent except for his uneven breathing. His lips trembled, and he looked at me with eyes filled with anger and betrayal that pierced my heart.
Then, with a guttural growl of frustration, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
I stood there, staring at the door, my chest tight and my eyes stinging.
‘Whore.’ The word echoed in my mind, louder than anything else. He had said it with such venom, yet his voice had cracked as though even he hated to say it.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. This wasn’t just about Evan’s anger. It was about the truth he thought he saw.
And if he told anyone else…
I had to find a way to fix this and fix it fast.
My hands trembled as I sat on the edge of my bed, the heavy door still vibrating from Evan’s dramatic exit. My younger brother had seen me. Caught me. And despite his struggles with speech, he’d made it painfully clear that he wasn’t confused.
The word he had thrown at me-whore-rang in my ears like a church bell, loud and unforgiving.
How had I let it come to this?
Evan wasn’t like everyone else. His condition-his difficulty with speech and processing-meant he often struggled to communicate his thoughts and emotions. But right now? There was no mistaking his anger or his disgust.
My baby brother had caught me sneaking around with Arlan, and it made me sick to my stomach.
I stood up, pacing the room. My face burned with humiliation. This wasn’t just about me being reckless or having a fling with just anyone. Arlan is a friend to our dad.
“I wonder what he must be thinking when he saw us.” I sighed replaying the scenario in my head.
The thought of Evan’s wild eyes, his trembling finger pointing at me, and his voice cracking as he yelled “whore” made my stomach churn. He had every reason to be angry. I had crossed a line I didn’t even know existed until now.
But did he have to call me that?
I pressed my palms to my face, groaning softly. I couldn’t even be mad at him. For Evan, the world was already a confusing place. Seeing me, his older sister, in such a compromising position must have felt like a betrayal. I was supposed to set the standard, to be the one he could look up to.
Instead, I’d become the person he looked at with shame and anger.
I can’t let this fester.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself to leave the room, my legs feeling like lead as I walked down the hall to Evan’s room. His door was slightly ajar, and I could hear him pacing inside, muttering under his breath.
I hesitated. What could I even say to make this better?
I knocked gently, pushing the door open.
“Evan?” I called softly.
He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his face still flushed with anger. His lips trembled as though he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
“Evan,” I said again, my voice low, almost pleading. “I’m sorry.”
He flinched at my words, his fists clenching at his sides.
“D-don’t… s-say… s-sorry,” he stammered, his voice strained and shaky. “Arlan is family!”
“Being friends with dad doesn’t make him family.?” I refuted.
“Maybe to you, he… is not but I I… ve known him my whole l-life.” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Y-you… n-not… g-good! N-not… h-honest!”
The tears in his eyes gutted me.
“Evan, please,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Y-you…” he struggled, pounding his fist against his leg. “L-lie… to me!”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you!” I protested, taking a cautious step closer.
“D-don’t!” he snapped, backing away from me. “Y-you… s-sneaky! W-with… h-him!”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. There was no denying it. “You’re right,” I admitted softly. “I was sneaking around. But I didn’t mean for you to see that, Evan. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”
“H-hurt?” he said, his voice trembling. “Y-you… sh-shame!”
My cheeks burned at his accusation.
“Evan, listen,” I said, stepping closer despite his protests. “What you saw-it’s not what you think. It’s… complicated.”
“C-c-complicated?” he repeated mockingly, his voice rising. “H-he’s… o-old! H-he’s… b-bad!”
I winced. “Evan, he’s not bad. He’s-”
“L-liar!” he yelled, his face twisting with frustration. “Y-you… w-wrong! A-always wrong!”
I bit my lip, fighting back tears. He wasn’t wrong to be upset. I had put myself in a situation I never should have. But hearing him call me “wrong” and look at me with such disappointment was unbearable.
“Evan,” I said softly, my voice cracking. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. But please, don’t hate me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his breathing heavy and uneven. Then, with a frustrated growl, he turned away from me, his hands covering his face.
“I-I… c-can’t,” he muttered, his voice muffled.
“Can’t what?” I asked, stepping closer.
“C-can’t… t-trust,” he said, his shoulders shaking.
My heart shattered. “Evan, please,” I whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.
He flinched away from me, his body stiff. “N-not now,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I nodded slowly, stepping back. “Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll give you space. But I do have a question, did you by chance tell anyone it was me you saw?”
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” The door behind us gave way and Isla, our grandmother walked in.