AGAROS : The Love Betrayal

« Every second I stood there, watching without acting, brought me closer to something I had always tried to avoid. »

Chapter VI

I stood frozen for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. I hadn't planned on stepping in, but it was impossible to ignore the urgency of the situation. Patty seemed more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her. This bookstore—it was her world. Her sanctuary. And she had no place in this kind of mess.

The young man shifted, and the barrel of the gun moved closer to Patty's head. My adrenaline spiked, but I knew that if I was going to do something, I had to think it through. No room for rash moves.

I didn't want to be the one to make the first move. Not like him. Not like the others. But every second I stood there, frozen, was one more second I was moving closer to something I'd always tried to avoid.

I took a slow breath and scanned the room, looking for a way in. The backroom was filled with piles of books—shelves full of novels she hadn't had time to put away. An idea, as risky as it was, came to me. But it was all I had.

I slipped into the next room, where Patty sometimes kept supplies. It was small, but from here, I had a better view of the entrance and the situation unfolding. I had to act fast, but I had no idea how it would end.

The young man was talking to Patty, his voice low and threatening. "You really think you're going to stop me?" He looked ready to explode.

Patty answered calmly, her voice shaking but steady. "I don't know what you want, but you're making a huge mistake."

The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to cut. A situation like this didn't end well. Not in real life. Not outside of movies.

I took a step forward, but the squeak of my shoes on the old wooden floor made me flinch. The young man snapped his head toward the door, his eyes locking on mine. The gun in his hand shifted slowly toward me, and my heart skipped a beat.

Everything stopped. The silence was heavy, unbearable. Patty, half-hidden behind a shelf, looked up, as if she recognized my face, but didn't move. It was like she knew everything depended on this exact moment.

"I… I didn't do anything," I whispered, my voice sounding steadier than I'd expected.

The young man lifted his head, his eyes scanning me. He probably saw me as just another threat, someone to be shoved out of the way.

"Move back," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "I'm not afraid of you."

I wasn't afraid of him, either. But the gun in his hand was real, and that changed everything.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool. Patty, meanwhile, stayed frozen, almost as though she were watching a scene unfold, rather than living it.

"I just want this to end without anyone getting hurt," I said softly. "Let her go, and we can talk. There's gotta be a way out of this without violence."

He looked at me for a long moment, and in his eyes, I saw a flicker of hesitation. Maybe he thought it was his last chance to back out, or maybe he was just tired of it all.

But before I could react, I heard the sound of an engine—something coming from outside. A car? Backup? I didn't know, but it was enough to distract him.

He turned his head, glancing at the window. That was all I needed.

With a quick move, I lunged forward, knocking over the shelf between us. The room filled with the metallic crash of falling books, and in the confusion, I grabbed his arm, forcing him back. The revolver hit the floor with a dull thud.

Patty, already taking cover, suddenly stood up, ready to bolt.

"Go! Get out!" I shouted.

She didn't hesitate, running straight for the back exit.

As for me, I was face-to-face with the young man, gasping for breath, his eyes burning with rage—but also fear. He was just a kid. A kid trapped in a situation that had long since spiraled out of his control. Maybe he wished he were somewhere else, someone else, in a life where he didn't need a gun to feel powerful.

"You know, you've got nothing to gain from this," I said, calmer now that the immediate threat had faded. He glared at me, anger still in his eyes, before slowly lowering the weapon, his hand shaking.

I felt like everything could still change in an instant, but he stopped.

Finally, he staggered back, breath coming in ragged gasps, and bolted out the door. I stood there, breathing heavily, my eyes fixed on the door through which he'd just fled.

I took a deep breath. It was over. But not for long.

Under Patty's mocking gaze, I cleaned up the mess and finished my shift for the day. She'd let me handle it, a trace of pride in her eyes, while she kept twirling her hair—plastic rings she spun with almost hypnotic precision.

I stared at her, exasperated, scrubbing the dirt off the counter.

"Why are you all dressed up, old lady?" I said, trying to distract myself.

She didn't even look up. A half-smile curved her lips, and she shot back a line she'd probably said a thousand times.

"It's none of your business, Petter. And stop calling me old. I'm twenty-two years older than you, and at forty, I'm not falling apart. Want me to put you in your place?"

I couldn't help but laugh, even though I knew her tone wasn't as light as it seemed. Patty was like that—she hid her cracks behind sarcasm. And even though she liked to pretend she had it all under control, I knew she wasn't as untouchable as she made herself out to be.

"Yeah, keep talking…" I muttered, shrugging, feeling that familiar knot tighten in my throat.

I knew the conversation wouldn't last long. She tossed me the cash for my work and asked if I had anything else to do.

"Wait, before you take off, how's your mom doing?" she asked.

Those words hit me like a punch. Talking about my mom was like touching a wound that wouldn't heal. I could feel the sadness closing in, but there was no avoiding it.

"She's hanging in there," I said, my voice dropping slightly. I didn't want to talk about her, but I couldn't lie, either.

It was a simple answer. The only one I could give. But it wasn't the truth. My mom wasn't doing well. She didn't need empty words. But that's all I had.

Patty studied me for a moment, her eyes full of that uncomfortable empathy that made my skin crawl.

"We're all hoping she pulls through," she said, her tone sincere—too sincere, almost.

I nodded, trying to keep it together, and turned away. I didn't want to stick around.

I was running late, and I was pissed, but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to care. My steps were slow, dragging, like every movement required more energy than I had left.

Energy my mom didn't have, either. Without meaning to, my mind drifted to her. What if she died? Right here? Right now? What would I do? I still didn't have an answer to that.

When I reached the gym, Marc's voice rang out. Typical of him to call me out for being late, grinning like a fool, his usual easygoing self.

"Hey, Pet. You're really late. Lucky for you, the coach isn't here yet."

I nodded but didn't feel like responding. We'd known each other too long for pleasantries. Marc was my buddy, my only real friend. Since the day he'd shown up in Darma, we'd stuck together.

"Hey to you, too, Marc," I said, with a half-smile that was supposed to be teasing but came out flat.

He mocked my mood with a smirk and hopped down from the ring.

"Quit messing around, go change before the coach shows up."