ameliah ㅤꨄ︎’s Reviews > Spearcrest Saints > Status Update

“Got shit taste in men, your sister has.”

“I know.” I sigh. “But she also probably didn’t want you to go to jail either.”

“Nah, she did.” Iakov takes another sip, rolling his head back against the headrest of the chesterfield. “Called the cops on me.”

“She fucking what?”

I LOVE IAKOV & ZAHARA 🥹

“And as for the value I give her, it’s immeasurable. She is worth dying for, living for. Killing for, probably, or at least poisoning for. She is worth every academic failure, every restless night, all the suffering and yearning and hopelessness.She isn’t worth everything. She is everything.”

“Beauty for me is a quiet girl with a brilliant mind, a debate team captain with a calm voice and textbooks covered in colour-coded annotations. Beauty for me is a girl with cold skin and a faraway gaze, a girl who loves children’s books but rarely laughs. Beauty for me is sage-green silk and soft white wool and forget-me-not eyes.My definition of beauty starts and ends with Theodora.”

ouu shi

“Have I ever said no to you, my revered nemesis?”
“I’m not your nemesis.”
“Bring your essay over. My adored adversary.”
“Just say Theodora.”“
Yes, my sublime Theodora.”

“I know you better than I know my own soul. I know every expression on your face like they are the lines of my favourite poems. Everything you think you keep hidden from the world, you can never quite hide from me. The beautiful things—your determination, your strength, your gentle soul—but the ugly things, too. Your ambition, your pain, your fear. Your desire. They’re naked to my eyes.”

“No,” I answer without shame. The balance of calm and emotion has tipped now. I’m as calm as a sea after a storm; her eyes are wide with panic. “I absolutely, undeniably, inexorably love you.”

“Maybe this is punishment for my hubris: this sickening sensation every time I look at a plate of food. The wave of panic, the desperation to ascertain control through small, manic gestures—cutting up my food into tiny pieces, breaking bread into a line of morsels.”

“When I started following my mother’s dietary plans all those years ago, I was so certain I would always remain in control. I wasn’t naive, not even back then. Just like my mother, I was well aware of what an eating disorder was—I thought I was clever enough that I would never allow my relationship with food to become dysfunctional, to tilt into the territory of illness.”