“There were a lot of bad memories there for me.”
Her brows pull together. “Oh. It’s surprising you wanted to become the Director then.”
“I was interested in taking the park to the next level. It was in my best interest to move past the issues holding me back.”
It’s not technically a lie. Yet her smile still feels like a punch to the gut.
You have no choice but to keep the whole truth from her. You’re too close to finishing to jeopardize everything now.
She smiles. “Do you feel better about being there now?”
“I met someone who makes my time there tolerable.”
The flush spreading across her cheeks makes my stomach roll. It’s hard to eat anything. “Tolerable? I’ve got to step it up.”
She’s done more than enough. I clear my throat. “Enough questions about me. I’m curious about something.”
“What?”
“Tell me about your pins.”
Her entire body language changes from the one question. “It’s not a cute story.” She looks out at the view behind me.
“I didn’t ask for one.” I grab her hand like she’s done for me every time I need to talk about something difficult.
Her body loosens, and she releases a deep breath. “The first day I attended therapy was the same day I got my very first pin.”
I could never imagine someone like Zahra going to therapy. My father told me it was for weak people who were so pathetic, they needed someone else to solve their problems.
“You went to therapy? Why?”
“Because I realized that I couldn’t fix myself without putting in the hard work.”
“But you’re—” I get stuck on finding the right words.
Her laugh sounds sad. “What? I’m nice? Happy? Smiling?”
“Well, yes.” Isn’t that how it works? Why would anyone who’s happy go to therapy?
Her eyes drop to her lap. “Everyone has bad times. And for me, I—there—” She lets out a heavy breath.
Zahra feeling distraught? That’s new.
“About two years ago, I fell into a deep depression.” She stares down at her hands.
I blink. “What?”
Her cheeks flush. “It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time, but Claire was the one who officially told me I needed to get help. She even helped me search for a therapist and told me to try to talk to someone about how I felt.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
She sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying right now.” She furiously wipes her damp cheeks.
I swipe away a tear she missed.
“I know I’m in a better place. But…God. When Lance broke my heart, I could hardly get out of bed. I used up all my vacation days for the year because I wasn’t sleeping much and it felt like a chore to even get up. It was like I was going through the motions of life but not really living. Barely even eating. And the thoughts—” Her voice cracks, and I swear I feel it like a punch to the heart. “I hated myself so much. For months, I blamed myself. Because what kind of stupid woman wouldn’t realize a man was cheating on her? I felt pathetic and used.”
“You’re many amazing things, and pathetic isn’t one of them.” My blood heats at the idea of her thinking anything bad about herself.
She sniffs again. “I know that now. But at the time, I felt so weak because nothing I did could stop this feeling of hopelessness that took over. I tried. God, I really did because I never knew what it was like to be anything but happy. But the harder I tried to put on a face, the worse things got. I eventually hit a scary point where I wondered if life was worth it.” She looks down at her trembling hands. “I—I never thought I would be the kind of person who thought I might be better off gone. I’m ashamed I ever even considered it.”