Thank the gods, it was broth this time. Still, the spices and salt made every injury in his mouth and throat burn and ache as he choked on the blood and broth mixture. Worse came when he coughed and the barbs bit in even deeper. It was more than his weakened body could take.

Unable to tolerate the agony, he finally passed out.

A week later, Zarya called the Sentella. Again. “Can I please speak to Kere?”

“I’m sorry, he’s not here.”

If she heard that one more time, she was going to scream. “Why can’t someone help me? Isn’t there anyone I can talk to about his current location?”

Or lack thereof?

“We don’t give out that kind of information. Sorry.” The woman hung up on her.

Zarya wanted to kill someone. As of today, it’d been nineteen weeks since she’d last spoken to her fiancé.

Nineteen. Weeks. Tomorrow would be five months.

His voicemail had filled up over three months ago, and hadn’t been cleared.

I know he’s dead. He had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else had he not called her?

Kere would never leave her hanging like this. Without word. Without notice. Not by choice. He knew her better than that. Thought more of her than to hurt her this way.

He was gone.

Just like my father. She winced at the comparison. But how could she deny it another minute?

Why wouldn’t someone, anyone tell her the truth about his whereabouts? She had used what little money she had to bribe every informant she could find for some clue.

No one took mercy on her. For weeks, she’d searched even though she didn’t know where he’d gone or where he lived.

Why aren’t you here?

The Sentella had to know he was dead. Why wouldn’t they just say it already so that she could stop hoping that the next time she called his number, he’d pick up and chastise her for not eating and for being worried about him when there was no need?

Just call me, baby. Please, don’t be dead… please.

The very thought of it tore through her and left her light-headed. It hurt to a level she’d never imagined was possible, and it made a mockery of the grief she’d had when her family had died.

How could anything hurt so much and not kill her?

She stared down at her beautiful engagement ring as her heart shattered all over again. Holding her link in her hand, she laid her head down on her desk and wept in utter misery.

Why couldn’t I have one thing for myself? Just once?

Was that really so much to ask?

Other people were allowed to have families and spouses. People they loved and cherished without their dying on them. Why couldn’t she?

But it wasn’t meant to be. For whatever reason, the gods wanted to punish her. Unlike other people, she wasn’t allowed to love someone.

The moment she did…