Page 20 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

Twenty minutes later, we’re settled in my living room with successfully rescued wine—Destiny worked kitchen magic to strain out cork debris—and the storm has settled into steady rain against windows.

Overhead lights stay off, just warm lamp glow creating what should be a cozy cocoon, but guilt sits heavy between my ribs like a stone I can’t dislodge.

“Okay,” Destiny says, settling beside me on the couch— close enough to provide comfort, but angled so she can watch my face. “Talk to me. And I want the truth, not the version where you make yourself feel better.”

“I’m a terrible person,” I blurt out, words tumbling over each other like they’ve been trapped behind a dam that finally burst. “I’m the worst kind of person. I’m letting three genuinely good men fall for me while lying to their faces every single day about the thing that matters most to them.”

“Go on.”

“Go on? That’s it! That’s the problem!” Wine makes me brave enough to voice what’s been eating at me like acid in my chest. “Declan kissed me yesterday. Reed cleaned with me. Cleaned! Adrian made me coffee and fixed my lock and looked at me like I was something precious. And the entire time, I’m lying to them. ”

Destiny doesn’t rush to comfort me like she usually does. She just watches, waiting, her expression serious but still warm.

“They trust me, Destiny. They asked me to help them find their family’s compass, and I said yes knowing I’m the reason it’s missing. They’re planning their whole strategy around my expertise while I sit there pretending I don’t know exactly where it is and how it got there.”

“And?”

“And?” I stare at her, wine glass suspended halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean and ? Isn’t that enough? I’m using them! I’m taking their comfort and their care and their trust while actively deceiving them!”

“Now you’re getting somewhere.” Destiny’s voice stays calm but there’s steel underneath, loving but uncompromising. “Keep going.”

“I don’t want to keep going. I want you to tell me it’s going to be okay and that they’ll understand and that everything will work out.” My eyes burn with unshed tears.

“But that’s not what you need to hear, is it?” Destiny shifts closer, one hand resting on the couch back near my shoulder—not quite touching, but offering comfort when I’m ready. “You need to hear that you’re still letting Blake control your life.”

The words hit like cold water, stealing my breath and making my chest seize. “What?”

“Blake convinced you that you were lucky anyone wanted you, right? Made you think your needs were too much, your feelings unreasonable.” Destiny’s voice loses some of its usual warmth but keeps its love. “Well, congratulations, Mija. You’re still living like that’s true.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are. You’re so busy preparing for them to leave that you’re doing their job for them.” Her hand moves to my shoulder, steady and warm. “Blake broke you so well you don’t even need him anymore to destroy your own happiness.”

My throat closes like someone’s squeezing it. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is what you’re doing to them.

” Destiny’s grip on my shoulder tightens slightly, anchoring rather than restraining.

“Declan called you a partner, Karma. Reed told you about his feelings. Adrian cooked for you. And you’re letting them do it while hiding the most fundamental truth about why they’re even in your life. ”

“I was going to tell them?—”

“When? When were you going to tell them? Because from where I’m sitting, you keep finding reasons to put it off.” Her dark eyes burn with protective frustration usually aimed at defending me, now aimed at saving me from myself.

“And how many times have you had the opportunity to tell them the truth?”

I don’t answer because we both know it’s dozens.

“You know what this really is?” Destiny continues, each word weighted with painful love. “This is fear. You’re more afraid of losing them than you are of hurting them. You’d rather keep them in the dark and enjoy their attention than give them the choice to decide for themselves.”

“That’s not true.” But my voice wavers because I know it is.

“Isn’t it? You’re taking away their agency, Karma.

You’re deciding what they can and can’t handle instead of trusting them to make their own choices.

” She moves closer, her other hand finding my free one, warm fingers intertwining with mine.

“That’s what Blake did to you. Made decisions about what you could handle, what you deserved, what was good for you. ”

The comparison makes me flinch like she’s struck me. “I’m nothing like Blake.”

“You’re acting like him right now. Blake lied to you for months about seeing other women because he decided you couldn’t handle the truth. What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting them?—”

“No, honey.” Destiny’s voice gentles but stays firm. “You’re protecting yourself. You’re so terrified of being alone again that you’re willing to build a relationship on lies.”

“Every day you don’t tell them is another day you choose fear over love,” Destiny continues, voice steady as a surgeon’s scalpel but infinitely gentler.

“Every day you take their comfort, their protection, their alpha energy—and give them lies in return. That’s not omega instincts, Karma. That’s just fear.”

“Stop.” My voice comes out broken, barely a whisper.

“I won’t stop. Because someone needs to tell you the truth, and clearly I’m the only one who will.

” Destiny releases my hands and positions herself where she can face me fully.

“You want to know why you really haven’t told them?

It’s not because you’re protecting them.

It’s because you know the second you tell them the truth, you’ll have to find out who they really are when things get complicated. ”

“They’ll leave.”

“Maybe they will. Maybe they’ll decide that someone who could lie to them for weeks about something this important isn’t someone they can trust.” Her voice carries brutal honesty wrapped in fierce love. “And maybe that’s the consequence of choosing fear over honesty.”

I’m sobbing now, ugly crying while rain patters against windows with steady, mocking rhythm. Destiny doesn’t leave—she moves closer, not quite touching but close enough that her warmth and cinnamon scent provide steady comfort.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Yes, you do. You tell them the truth. All of it. Blake’s abuse, the theft, where the compass is, everything.” Destiny’s hand settles on my back, rubbing gentle circles between my shoulder blades. “You stop being afraid and give them the choice Blake never gave you.”

“What if they hate me?”

“Then they hate you. But at least they hate you for who you really are instead of loving you for who you’re pretending to be.

” She continues the soothing motion, her touch grounding me in the present moment.

“Karma, do you want to be Blake’s victim for the rest of your life?

Because that’s what this is. You’re still letting him win. ”

“I don’t know how to be brave.”

“You tackled Adrian in your front yard because you thought he was a threat. You defended yourself against a man twice your size because you thought you were in danger.” Destiny’s voice strengthens with pride and conviction.

“You know how to be brave when it matters. The question is: do these men matter enough for you to be brave now?”

“What if I tell them and they leave, and I end up alone again?”

“Then you’ll be alone with your integrity intact instead of alone with the knowledge that you destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you because you were too afraid to be honest.” Destiny’s voice carries gentler warmth now, still firm but infinitely compassionate.

“And maybe, just maybe, you’ll discover that you’re stronger than Blake convinced you to believe. ”

“I don’t know how to tell them,” I whisper finally, voice barely audible over settling rain.

“You pick up the phone and say ‘I need to tell you something important. Can you come over?’” Destiny’s voice is matter-of-fact, no longer cutting but still unforgiving of excuses.

“And then when they get here, you tell them everything. Blake’s abuse, the compass, where it is, how long you’ve known. All of it.”

“Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Destiny says, and I can hear the shift in her voice—still firm, but more protective. “When you’re sober and clear-headed and they’re not wondering why you’re having an emotional breakdown at eleven PM.”

Relief floods through me so fast my knees go weak. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. First thing.” She takes my phone from my hands and sets it firmly on the coffee table, out of reach. “And no, you’re not texting them tonight either. Friends don’t let friends drunk text, especially not about life-changing confessions.”

“But what if I lose my nerve?”

“Then I’ll be here at nine AM to make sure you don’t.” Destiny settles beside me on the couch, her shoulder touching mine. “You’re not doing this alone, but you’re also not doing it while you’re emotionally compromised and half a bottle of wine in.”

“What if?—”

“No what-ifs tonight. Tonight, you get some food in you, we watch something mindless on Netflix, and you go to bed early so you can face tomorrow with a clear head.” Her voice carries protective certainty rather than sharp demand.

“ Tomorrow morning, you call them and ask them to come over. When you’re ready to have the most important conversation of your life. ”

“You’d stay?”

“Mija, I’m not going anywhere.” She wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her side. “But I’m also not going to let you sabotage this because wine made you brave at the wrong moment.”

“Destiny—”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” she says quietly, her voice finally holding the gentle warmth I’ve been craving. “You just have to be honest. And you can’t be honest when you’re drunk and crying and making decisions from a place of panic.”

The words hit something deep in my chest, loosening a knot I didn’t know was there. Blake convinced me I had to earn love by being perfect, by never causing problems, by making myself smaller and easier to handle.

But Destiny’s right. They deserve my truth delivered with courage, not desperation.

I stare at my phone sitting safely out of reach on the coffee table. Outside, the storm has moved on, leaving behind clear skies and the kind of quiet that feels like the world holding its breath.

“What if tomorrow comes and I can’t do it?”

“Then I’ll help you find the words. But Karma—” She turns to face me fully, her dark eyes serious but kind. “You’re going to do it. Because staying Blake’s victim isn’t an option anymore, and we both know it.”

“Okay,” I whisper, sinking deeper into her embrace. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning,” she agrees, reaching for the remote. “Now, what’s it going to be—rom-com or true crime documentary? Because you need something to occupy your brain that isn’t catastrophic thinking. ”

“Rom-com,” I say without hesitation. “I need to remember that sometimes people get happy endings.”

“Good choice.” She queues up something cheerful and predictable, then settles back beside me. “And Karma? Tomorrow you’re going to find out if you get one too.”