I moved as quickly as I could back to the studio, hoping my face wouldn't give anything away. I pressed my lips together, swallowing the ache that sat in my throat, my mind replaying Zaya's words over and over. How could someone be so harsh ?
"It meant nothing," she'd said, cold and unyielding. I clenched my fists, the anger settling in, boiling up under my skin.
How could she act so unaffected, so dismissive? Every rumor I'd ever heard about Zaya came flooding back, a torrent of whispered warnings. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was as heartless as everyone said, incapable of anything deeper than a fleeting connection.
I didn't want anyone else to see my tears, least of all Zaya. But that thought didn't stop the sting in my chest or the heat in my eyes.
Fuck it.
Just as I reached my dressing room, I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me with a shaky breath.