Dahlia has lived in our universe as an immortal for centuries. She has a soft spot for this universe - all the good and all the bad - and has made the best of an admittedly bad situation. Her universe? It...went through some things, but who cares, w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I KNOW WHAT you're thinking," said Veena, closing the bedroom door behind us. Leaning against it, she regarded me cautiously.
"You can't possibly know what I'm thinking," I said to her, looking around the room. It was like a tornado had torn through it. There was evidence of someone – a female – living here: Open suitcases, spilling clothing onto the wooden floor; toiletry bags bursting at the seams with makeup and creams. The king-sized bed was unmade, the sheets in a tangle on the bedroom bench at the foot of the bed.
"Okay, then. I can guess." Veena paused, tilting her head to one side, regarding me with an unblinking stare. "You look great, by the way."
"So do you," I said grudgingly.
"No, I don't. I'm huge."
I bit my lip because, well, she was huge. But it didn't change the fact that she still looked as radiant as I remembered. Her braids were an auburn color that stood out against her dark skin and made her deep brown eyes look even darker. Thanks to her pregnancy, the blue strapless dress she wore looked like it was several sizes too small. Her breasts were practically spilling over the top.
"This is the part where you say, No, sister. You're not a big old shapeless blob."
"Are you really staying here?" I shook my head, knowing that that wasn't even my most burning question.
Veena was absently stroking her belly. "Isn't it obvious?"
A thread of silence stretched between us, and I felt sweat trickle down my back. My dress felt like a wet paper towel.
"Who...who's the father?" I asked, even though in the depths of my heart, I already knew.
Our gazes locked. "Memphis," she replied, her voice soft, so soft that I had to strain to hear her.
I let out an audible breath. "Did you kill him?"
Veena's face contorted with horror. "How can you even ask me that? Of course, not."
"You don't seem all too broken up about his death."
Her eyes narrowed at me. "That's a fucking disgusting accusation, Dahlia."
I went to the window, looking out at the empty expanse of golden sand in front. "How long?"
"What?"
"How long were the two of you seeing each other?"
"We weren't seeing each other," she said, sounding miffed. "We were together. We loved each other."
I turned around, watching the way her eyes glassed over, how her body seemed to sag against the door. She had both hands on her stomach, maybe for comfort, or maybe she just didn't even realize that she was doing it. It was that protective gesture that I'd seen most women here do, like their hands were made out of impenetrable bracca metal and they could ensure the safety of the fetus by such strategic placement.
