Strings and Schemes

Chapter 12

"Liam—" I start, but it's too late.

Without a word, he grabs Louis by the collar of his salwar kameez and yanks him forward with a force that nearly knocks him off balance. Before either of us can react, Liam's fist collides with Louis' face, a sickening crack echoing through the quiet garden.

Louis stumbles back, blood already trickling from his nose.

"What the fuck, mate?" Louis sputters, hand flying up to assess the damage.

But Liam isn't finished. His nostrils flare, fury overtaking every rational thought. He punches Louis again. And again.

"She's—" punch
"Your—" punch
"Best—" punch
"Fucking—" punch
"FRIEND."

Louis staggers, blinking hard, before holding up a hand to block the next blow. His breathing is labored, but there's something almost amused in his expression—like he half-expected this to happen.

I, however, am not amused.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I hiss, stepping between them and shoving Liam back with both hands. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Liam's chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes wild with anger as he looks between us. "Are you serious, Raina?" His voice is sharp, almost breaking. "You fucked him?"

I square my shoulders, refusing to flinch under his judgment. "And?"

Liam laughs coldly, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. "And? And?! Are you even hearing yourself right now? Louis is supposed to be your best friend, not some—some rebound you use when you're pissed at your parents."

Louis wipes the blood from his nose, wincing. "Okay, first of all—rude. I am exceptional in bed, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Louis." Liam and I snap at the same time.

Louis sighs, leaning against the stone ledge of the garden wall, clearly realizing he's going to be the human punching bag for more than just Liam tonight.

Liam turns his fury back to me. "You've spent years keeping your distance, setting rules, and now—what? One fight with your parents and you throw all that out the window? For him?"

I glare at him. "Oh, so now you care?" My voice shakes, but not with guilt. With rage. "Where was this energy when my parents were throwing me to the wolves inside that event? When they were lining up suitors like I was a goddamn prize pony? You didn't seem to have much to say then."

Liam's expression falters for half a second, but he recovers quickly. "That's different."

"No, it's not." I cross my arms, challenging him. "You just don't like that I made a choice you don't approve of. But guess what, Liam? I don't need your approval. I am not some delicate thing that needs your protection."

Louis snorts, muttering under his breath, "That's true, mate. She's actually terrifying."

I ignore him. My focus is on Liam, who is still seething.

"He used you, Raina," Liam spits. "And you let him."

Louis' entire demeanor shifts at those words. His smirk vanishes, replaced by a rare flash of genuine anger.

"You do realize—" he says, stepping forward, "—that assuming she's the one being used is pretty fucking sexist, right?" His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it that makes Liam falter.

For the first time since this fight started, Liam doesn't have a comeback.

"Oh, don't look so fucking surprised," I snap, tired of this conversation. "God forbid I take control of my own life, my own body, my own fucking decisions."

Liam still looks like he wants to argue, but I don't give him the chance.

I step closer, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"Liam, I am fragile like a human heart is fragile, not like a bomb is fragile. Stop acting like I need to be saved."

He flinches.

Louis, meanwhile, smirks proudly through his bloody nose. "Damn, that was hot."

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face, already exhausted by this entire night. Why is it that every time I fight for myself, someone is there to make me feel like I'm doing it wrong?

And then, just when I think it's over, my mother walks outside.

Her presence alone makes my blood run cold.

She stops dead in her tracks, taking in the scene: Louis, bleeding and bruised. Liam, fuming and barely contained. Me, angry and disheveled, the remnants of my beautiful lengha hanging slightly off my shoulder.

She exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Great," I deadpan. "Because we won't be explaining."

Her eyes flick to me, sharp as a blade. "Where are you going, Raina?"

The way she says it—like she still has some kind of control over me—sends me over the edge.

I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and deliver my final blow.

"To my not-boyfriend's house."

The words land like a slap.

She blinks, stunned, and for once, she has nothing to say.

I turn on my heel, stalking toward the front of the High Commission, where my driver is already waiting.

And I don't look back. Just like that, I disappear into the night.