Chapter 40 If you ask me to

Chapter 40 If you ask me to
Ilyas’s POV
As soon as Dane left, the noise drained out of the terrace like someone pulled a plug. 
Lila walked over and leaned against the wall beside me, close enough that I could feel her warmth through the fabric of my sleeve. My scarf was folded carefully in her arms, like it mattered. Like I mattered.

I glanced at her, then away. Seeing her touch it got me more excited than it was supposed to. She kept fidgeting with the fabric, twisting it slowly around her fingers.
“Illy…” she started, then hesitated. “…Ilyas.”
I braced myself. For the questions, the blame, the disgust, the look people get right before they decide I’m a monster. Instead, she leaned a little closer and said quietly, “You’re hurt.”
My muscles locked up.

She pointed to my face. “Principal Dane did that, didn’t he?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
She shook her head softly, like the idea bothered her, then walked a few steps away and sat down where the dust wasn’t as thick.
She patted the floor beside her, smiling like it was nothing. My legs moved before my brain caught up. I sat beside her.
“The floor’s kinda dusty,” she said lightly. “Our uniforms are definitely ruined now.”
“No,” I muttered. “It’s… fine.”
She grinned like that was the correct answer. 

She placed my scarf on her lap and reached into her bag, pulling out two cafeteria sandwiches－ wrapped badly, bread already a little squished. She handed one to me. “I grabbed them on the way,” she said. “Figured you didn’t eat.”
I stared at it. Then at her. Then I took it, careful not to touch her skin. I didn’t trust myself to react normally if I did. 
We ate in silence for a bit. She hummed after a bite. “This is actually good.” she said surprised. I glanced at her, then down at my sandwich. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “It really is.”

When we finished, she pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. My eyes drifted back to the scarf, it brushed against her sleeve again. I noticed how close it was to her throat. The thought lodged somewhere unpleasant. I turned away before she noticed. She sighed. “You know,” she said softly, “I made a new friend this week.”
I nodded. “Hazel,” I said. “You mentioned her.”
Her voice warmed. “Yeah, she pretends she doesn’t care about anyone, but she does. A lot. She’s just… bad at showing it.”
I nodded again. I didn’t really understand what her point was, but I liked listening to her talk. “If you say she’s nice,” I said, “then she probably is.” She nodded, then turned to me. Her eyes were wet. 
My stomach dropped.

Did I say something wrong? Did she finally see my face properly? I opened my mouth to apologize when she spoke first.

“That girl,” she said carefully. “The one you almost－” She swallowed. “She’s Hazel. She’s my friend.”
Everything clicked at once. I almost killed Lila’s friend. But she hurt Kael.

Lila’s fingers tightened around the scarf.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said. “I don’t know what you think she did. But I know her.”
She looked at me, eyes wide and steady. “So please,” she whispered. “Don’t kill her.”
I stared at the ground. 
The urge didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Bent. Curved around her words. I hated how easy it was for her to do that to me. To ask. To soften things I’d already decided. 
“…Okay.” I muttered, it felt like swallowing glass. “If she’s your friend, then I won’t.”

Her face lit up instantly, like I’d just handed her the sun. “Thank you,” she said. “She really is nice. I think you’d like her if you got to know her.”
I doubted that. But she looked happy when she said it. She leaned in suddenly, studying my face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without the scarf,” she said.
I stiffened. 
She could see everything now. The scars, the damage. I lifted my hand to cover my face. “It’s ugly.”
She grabbed my wrist gently and shook her head. “No. Don’t hide.”
I went still.
“You’ve never looked hideous you know,” she said firmly.

I looked at her.
“…Not even once?”
She smiled.
“Not even twice.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. We both laughed－ quiet, surprised sounds. God, I missed this. Missed her. Missed sitting beside her like my world wasn’t on fire. She held the scarf out to me. “Here. But you don’t have to wear it around me. We’re friends.”
Friends...
I took it slowly, then dropped it beside me instead of putting it on.
She smiled, fidgeting with her fingers. I copied her without thinking. She noticed immediately. “…Please don’t do that,” she said, face heating up.
“Why?”
“It’s unsettling.”
I tilted my head. “You do it too.”
She groaned and hid her face in her hands. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m not you.”

I smiled before I realized I was doing it. “Good,” I said. “Would be weird if you were.”
She peeked through her fingers, trying not to smile. I stared at the scarf on the ground. At the place where her warmth still lingered. For a moment, just one, the world felt still.



Lidia’s POV
I stood in the kitchen with one cupboard door hanging open, staring into it like something might magically appear if I glared hard enough. Nothing did. Just air.
A cracked bowl. A half-used packet of seasoning whose expiration date I refused to acknowledge.

I exhaled slowly and ran a hand through my dark wavy hair, gripping it at the roots like that might summon a solution. I’d used almost everything we had making sure Hazel ate properly the past few days. Healthy meals, protein. Things doctors would approve of. 
Turns out concern doesn’t restock pantries. My eyes landed on a lonely packet of the cheapest pasta money could buy.
Would she eat that? 

Knowing her, she’d squint at it, poke it once with a fork, and say something like, Wow, Mom. Prison-core cuisine. Bold choice. I snorted despite myself. “Ungrateful child,” I said fondly, and pulled the pasta out anyway. Pride doesn’t fill stomachs.
I filled a pot, lit the stove, and threw together a sauce from whatever was left; tomatoes from a can with a dent, spices whose labels had faded into mystery. It smelled… edible. That was the goal.

Half way through stirring, my phone rang. I turned off the stove and padded into the living room, scooping my phone off the couch. One glance at the cracked screen made my stomach tighten. I already knew who it was.