Page 39 of Unbroken

That was who she was—always carrying someone. Always putting herself last.

I hated it, sometimes. Just the way the world never gave her a break, and she never asked for one. Like she believedsuffering was something noble if it kept the people she loved breathing.

I feel Ruthie watching me. Her silence isn’t passive but deliberate—a weight pressing into my chest.

When I finally look up, she’s staring at me like she sees all of it. The guilt I try to bury. The man I used to be. The one who couldn’t save her sister.

She doesn’t speak right away.

She reaches across again, this time gripping my hand—not gentle, but grounding.

“And you’re not the only one who lost her,” she adds, barely above a whisper.

I nod. Because if I speak now, I might say the wrong thing. Or worse—say everything I’ve never let myself feel.

Ruthie lifts her glass again, but her hand wobbles. Is she drunk? I look in surprise at the tray of empties beside us.

She stares at me for a beat too long.

"You wear your grief well, Vadka."

The words fall out soft. She swallows hard and sets the glass down. “I do the same thing. And it’s not a compliment. It’s… armor. You wear it so no one can touch what’s underneath.”

I don’t respond. She keeps going like she can’t stop herself. “Sometimes I think youlikebeing broken. Like it gives you permission to not feel.” Her voice falters. “Makes it easier to push everyone away.”

Is she talking about me?

Or herself?

My stare sharpens. My grip on my drink tightens. But she doesn’t flinch. She leans back in her chair, her eyes glossy and defiant. “I get it. I do. But it’s not really any way to live, is it?”

Her mouth opens like she wants to take it all back… but she doesn’t.

It’s too late anyway.

She sighs. “People mistake it for strength though.”

My voice is quiet. Dangerous. “You think I want anyone’s pity?”

“I think you don’t want anything.” She sways a little, then steadies herself. “That’s the problem.”

I lean forward. Just a little.

She falters for a second. Then her mouth twists into a smile. Defiant. Reckless. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Regret? From Ruthie?

I shrug. “You never held back from saying the truth, did you?”

Something flickers in her expression. A crack in the bravado.

“I don’t pity you, Vadka,” she murmurs. “I just… I see you. And sometimes I think, maybe that’s worse.”

I get a text from Zoya at the same time as I get one from Rafail.

Zoya

Luka’s asleep.