No matter how many people surrounded us, our eyes always seemed to find each other.
"Miss Crawford, after being ruined back then, do you have anything you'd like to say to the person responsible?" a reporter asked.
She gave a soft laugh and looked straight into the camera.
"I saw him today. His eyes are still as beautiful as ever. If I get the chance, I'll dig them out myself—and string them into a bracelet for my fiancé."
The crowd gasped at her venom.
But for us, after six years of hating each other, such words were nothing new.
"Did you ever retaliate back then?" another reporter pressed.
"I crippled his mother—does that count?" She tilted her head and smiled.
I swirled the wine in my glass, listening to my daughter's bedtime story on the phone, gently coaxing her to sleep.
My calm indifference clearly irritated Kianna.
Or perhaps between the two of us, no excuse was ever needed—we simply wanted each other destroyed.
She came over and sat beside me, pressing one finger against my phone screen.
Catching a glimpse of what I was watching, she let out a mocking laugh.
"The Great Compassion Mantra would suit you better."
Then she turned to introduce me.