Page 27 of The Book of Heartbreak

‘You didn’t hit your head.’ I linger at the top of the stairs. I should go. I must go.

‘Please,’ he begs. ‘Come inside.’

I hesitate. Then, like an idiot, I follow him.

Leon’s apartment is the complete antithesis of my expectations.

Gone are the visions of worn sofas and band T-shirt tapestries I’d conjured in my imagination.

Instead, the walls, painted a sweet tone of lilac, are adorned with shimmering constellations and astrological charts.

The air holds a soft pot-pourri scent laced with a faint, intriguing hint of leather.

Crystal lamps cast a warm glow around the short hallway which leads to a door that stands like a portal to a symphony of floral prints.

A few moments after we’ve stepped inside, his aunt Harika, the potential mastermind of this pastel wonderland, emerges from behind a door.

‘Leon?’ When she sees his state, her hand – heavy with sparkling rings – rises to her chest. ‘What happened?’

‘I’m fine,’ Leon rushes to reassure her. After we shut the front door, his composure seems more relaxed, despite the pain. And I start to wonder if that display of groans and moans were simply to mock me. ‘But we lost the book.’

‘Ah.’ Harika waves her hand, long nails painted in a shade of peach.

‘What is lost today shall find its way back. Soon, when the stars align with hidden intentions,’ she says dreamily, making me wonder if she’s really insightful, or just prone to theatrics.

‘I’m sorry I failed to foresee this – perhaps then you could’ve avoided the accident. ’

‘You already warned me to make a copy of the book,’ Leon protests.

‘That was just good old wisdom, darling, not the eye.’ Harika sighs. ‘Now let me get you some bandages.’

Leon guides me to his room, and soon Harika arrives with a tray. She leaves a clean cloth and a bandage, a bottle of lemonade and two glasses, then leaves, shutting the door behind her.

‘You don’t seem to be in pain any more.’ I point out the obvious.

‘Not everything is as it seems, Silverbirch.’ Leon winks at me. ‘I’m just really resilient.’

The wind whips the billowing curtain into the room. Beyond the tulle, the view of my balcony across the street feels strange. But what’s stranger still is being alone with Leon, in his bedroom.

‘Please, sit,’ he says.

I glance around. There aren’t many spots on offer except his bed and an office chair. I perch on the chair, and he sits on his bed. The desk is messy – enormous headphones, a PC, piles of books.

Leon takes the muslin cloth and crumples it in his hand, then wipes his legs. Thankfully, the cuts don’t appear too deep. I don’t offer any help. I don’t have the courage to touch him more.

Instead, I pour our drinks.

‘Thanks,’ he says. The ice cubes tinkle inside the glass as I offer it to him.

‘I’m sorry.’ I sink back on the chair. ‘You lost the book because of me.’

‘It’s fine.’ Leon studies the carpet as if he’s discovered a secret message on it. ‘I’m just grateful I had the chance to read his journal and make a copy. It wasn’t mine, anyway. I was going to return it to the tower.’

‘Aren’t you frightened? Of getting in too deep?’ I echo Pelin’s warning. ‘After what happened to Sufi Chelebi. How he lost his pure eye.’ I avoid the mention of his obsession with Theodora, which ultimately caused him to starve himself of nutrition and sanity.

‘If you succumb to your fears, you’ll only become a shadow of yourself.’ Leon shrugs, his gaze unwavering as he meets my eyes. ‘The curse is still around and someone needs to break it.’

I consider these words. With a heart that ticks like a time bomb, I’ve spent a lifetime carrying fears in my pockets like stones. Courage never bestowed me peace.

‘Those gulls looked monstrous.’ I shake my head. ‘Why would they take a book?’

‘They weren’t just birds.’ His jaw tightens. ‘They were possessed by the Hidden, or their minions. Not all the Hidden are fond of seers – some resent us for our abilities. I can’t say who stole the book yet, but I have a feeling Munu may know.’

‘I doubt she’ll share anything, even if she does.’ I recall our heated argument. ‘She wasn’t pleased with our encounter in the tower. I haven’t seen her for over a week now.’

I wait for a reply, taking a long sip from my drink, struck by the foolish hope that perhaps Leon can tell me when Munu might return.

‘I’m not certain about the journal, but your friend will be back, I’m sure,’ he says. ‘And perhaps when she returns . . . If you still need answers, I can bend her. I can extract—’

‘What the hell do you mean?’ I frown, recalling all the horrors Munu attributed to seers.

‘With Grey’s help, I can bend the ethereal, and they have to reply to all questions truthfully. No lies.’ Leon leans forward like a hawk, his eyes ablaze with a fierce passion.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I retort, my voice tinged with defiance. ‘I’m not going to let you terrorise her. She’s my friend.’

‘It won’t hurt her, but you will get your answers. I’ve never met anyone else who made friends with an ethereal,’ Leon mutters. ‘But yet, you . . . Sometimes I look at you, and wonder if you’re somehow favoured or blessed by the Hidden. You are quite extraordinary, aren’t you?’

I almost snort. If only he knew the truth.

The intensity of his stare doesn’t wane, even through my silence.

Get up and leave, a small voice in my head urges.

But escaping would be Munu’s way of thinking. And Munu is the one who kept me in the dark. I can’t live in fear any more. I’m not a child.

‘Why . . .’ I swallow my fear, my voice trembling slightly. With quivering hands, I place my drink back on the tray. ‘Why do you think so?’

‘You say you don’t possess a pure eye, Silverbirch,’ Leon states matter-of-factly. ‘Yet you can see Munu. Do you remember, when I saw you two on the balcony, I refrained from addressing the ethereal and spoke to you first?’

I nod. How could I forget?

‘Because we, those with the pure eye, have to pay a price to see the deceased. Hunger, pain or confinement. Sufi Chelebi spoke once with Theodora, and it cost him dearly: he lost her. So tell me, how, with your innocence of such dark arts, can you chatter with Munu as if she’s your classmate? What is the source of this blessing?’

‘S-she helps me.’ I avoid meeting Leon’s gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel exposed, yet strangely compelled to confess.

I don’t know why I trust him. I don’t know why my mouth is loosened, but it’s so easy to talk with him, so effortless.

I’ve been carrying this secret for so long.

I’m so thirsty to tell it. And I feel so lonely.

Finally, after nearly eighteen years, I have the chance to share it with someone who’ll understand, someone other than Munu.

‘Why do you need help?’ Leon’s voice is gentle, but his eyes pin me down. ‘What for?’

‘Because I’m—’ I hold Leon’s gaze. How easily the words spill from my lips. How desperately I yearn to unburden myself. ‘I’m cursed.’

Leon pauses for a long moment, a flurry of emotions stirring in his bright eyes.

The word curse tastes funny in my mouth.

Perhaps it’s the remnants of the lemonade that’s gone sour.

Or just saying it out loud to someone who isn’t Munu.

I don’t know if I feel lighter, after the confession, or just hollow.

Time, tightly drawn with a patience I can no longer bear, slows as Leon watches me.

‘I knew it,’ he says finally, although more to himself than to me. ‘You bear a curse. It’s why I can’t stop thinking about you.’

Shit. I’m lucky I didn’t have anything in my mouth, otherwise I’d choke on this declaration.

He can’t stop thinking about me.

Me!

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner? This changes everything. Perhaps—’ He grimaces, as if he’s recalled something. ‘What does the curse do to you?’

Say it, and he’ll think you’re a freak , a voice in my head chants. A freak who dies with every heartbreak.

‘I—’ I hesitate. ‘I can’t talk about it.’

‘Don’t you want to break the curse?’ I see a million stars in Leon’s eyes, each glittering with their own possibility.

‘It will be no more when I turn eighteen.’

‘A curse won’t dispel itself on a birthday.’

A silence sits atop us. A gull lands on the railing of the balcony outside. Suddenly, I start to panic. I’ve already said too much. Why can’t I shut up?

I can’t bear him discovering how doomed and fragile I am. A girl with a heart of glass, living on borrowed time, trapped in the safety of isolation, more terrified of love than of Death itself.

Think, Sare. Think fast. Find something conventionally tragic that won’t make you look like a loser.

‘I-I will die young.’ It takes all my strength to form the lie. ‘All the women in my family are cursed to die young.’ But it’s still a form of truth. Everyone did die young: Iris, Defne, their mother.

‘Fuck,’ Leon mutters, distracting me, his face contorting with sorrow. ‘I’m so sorry.’

A pang of guilt swells in my stomach for deceiving him – but it’s the only way. He won’t stop asking questions about the curse otherwise. And it’s easier to pretend I’m not the only one who’s suffering.

‘It’s fi—’ I begin.

A shrill cry pierces the air, making me halt. Not mine, not Leon’s. It’s a bold, vivid, familiar cry.

At first, I assume it’s one of the gulls. But it’s deeper, knowing. A louder voice.

And then Munu drifts in from behind the curtains. She seems to have aged in the past week, with loose strands of unkempt hair, her face drained of colour, her usual flamboyant attire swapped for a simple black dress, as if she’s in mourning.

‘You.’ She lifts a shaking finger at Leon. ‘Why won’t you leave her alone?’

‘Munu.’ I step between her and Leon.

‘You spoke of the curse,’ Munu says, as if I have betrayed her. ‘You told him!’

‘Where were you all this time?’ I’m puzzled, agitated. ‘How do you know what we’re talking about?’