Asher and I lay wide awake that night, ensnared by the gravity of the revelation I had just shared with him. The weight of my words clung to the air like a dense fog, and Asher felt the urgency in his pacing, his footsteps echoing against the walls of the dimly lit room.
“You can’t trust anything Giovanni says,” he insisted, anxiety etching lines into his forehead as he walked back and forth, his hands gesturing animatedly, seeking answers that eluded us both.
“I wish I could tell you that I don’t believe him. That would make everything so much simpler. But I can’t deny it—he was speaking the truth,” I replied, my voice heavy with the conflict gnawing at my heart.
Asher stopped in his tracks, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “You have this remarkable ability to perceive the emotions
