After she said those words, Yzail nudged me, signaling that I should say something.
I turned to him, my voice soft yet cold, “Do you think I should forgive her?”
The pain of my severed tendons, the agony of never being able to play the piano again, the loss of my dream—it all flashed through my mind. But I wasn’t weak enough to ask him why he had fallen for her. That would make me seem pathetic.
Guilt flickered briefly across Yzail’s face. “Zolenn made a mistake in a moment of impulse back then. The law already punished her, and she’s been remorseful for years. She’s apologizing now. Why hold on to the past?”
A moment of impulse? Was destroying my future just a fleeting mistake for him? The chronic pain I endured whenever it rained was something I was supposed to let go of.
Not forgiving her made me petty in his eyes.
Back then, Yzail had been by my side in the emergency room, holding my hand, sharing in my hatred for Zolenn. Now, he wanted me to forgive her.
When he reached for my hand to encourage reconciliation, I slapped it away and said bitterly,
“Yzail, you didn’t have your tendons severed. What right do you have to ask me to forgive the person who almost killed me?”