Chapter 32

“We borrowed peace,
from a burning wound,
knowing it hurt.
Knowing it wouldn’t last.
Knowing that love had just given fate
something to threaten me with.“

Nathan’s POV

This morning wasn’t exactly a good one.

It came wrong, not quiet nor peaceful, just misaligned.

The snow outside was white and so clean, but it didn’t brighten anything. The whole world felt dull in a familiar way, like something irreversible had happened.

Did I sleep? Hell no, I didn’t.

I stayed awake while she slept, listening to her breathe, letting the echo of three careless words rearrange the architecture of my mind.

I didn’t say a thing back, of course, I didn’t, because answering would have required choosing a wrong language I am not fluent in.

I don’t speak in reassurance and illusions.

I speak in outcomes.

So, when the first line of morning slipped through the window, I got up and left. This is probably the first morning I walked away from her without kissing her pretty face first, without smoothing her hair back, without taking my usual touch-dose of Aylin for the day.

No.

Instead, I circled away, because a predator doesn’t rush a prey that walks willingly into his trap…no, it steps back and reassesses, recalibrates boundaries, and then eliminates all external threats.

So, naturally, I focused on what I do best.

I unlocked the back door of the abandoned shop and pushed it open.

My footsteps echoed as I walked in, loud enough to drag the old woman out of her light sleep. Her head lifted slowly. She blinked once, then again, her eyes struggling to focus before they finally landed on me.

She was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled in, curled up against the wall like a small, innocent thing. I’d turned up the heat earlier, the perfect host that I am, because freezing people tends to kill them too quickly, and I wasn’t done with her just yet.

I dropped the bag of food beside her. Perfect host, remember?

She flinched at the sound. Her shoulders tensed. Her spine straightened, and her gaze sharpened from hazy to fire in the span of a second.

My eyes took her in with quiet interest, the loose strands of hair clinging to her face, the red-rimmed, sleep-starved eyes, the wrinkled clothes hanging off her…well, damn, disoriented didn’t even begin to cover it.

Layla was a woman of order.

This was the most out of order she’d ever been.

Courtesy of yours truly.

I crouched in front of her, resting my forearms on my knees. We were eye level now, close enough for me to hear the hitch in her breathing, the frantic rhythm of her heart, panic or rage, hard to tell. Either way, both were useful.

I smiled and nudged the bag toward her with my fingertips. “Eat something,” I said lightly. “You must be starving.”

Her gaze dropped to the bag for half a second before snapping back up to me. It sharpened as she glared at me, suspicious, like she was waiting for the punchline.

I tilted my head, studying her expression. “What?” I asked mildly. “It’s Christmas, you know, the season of goodwill, charity, and helping the less fortunate.”

My smile widened as I brought my hand forward, gently brushing the loosened strand of hair away from her face, “And right now, that’s you.”

She quickly slapped my hand away, her fingers curling over my wrist, nails digging like she wanted to claw the skin out, her jaw clenched hard enough for the muscle to jump beneath it. Well, I see Aylin inherited more from her mother than I’d like. Tragic, really.

I brought my other hand up and wrapped my fingers around hers, then tore it off me with a sharp twist that forced a hiss out of her throat.

“Let’s not trigger me, okay?” I said calmly, “I’m already feeling more…violent than usual today, and trust me, you really won’t like what that version of me does.”

Her defiant eyes stayed locked on mine for a beat too long. Her mouth said nothing, but her body was screaming it.

I hummed quietly, amused.

“It’s a little sad, isn’t it?” I muttered, “How it’s the holidays and all,” My lips curved, thoughtful, “yet no one even noticed that you’re missing.”

I shrugged, “You’ve taken the week off, so no one at work noticed your absence,” I added, “Your husband…sorry, ex-husband wouldn’t bother checking, of course, considering he is the one who filed for divorce, and you’re the one still pretending it didn’t happen.”

Every word I dropped, every detail I knew, tipped the scales in my favor.

She shifted in her place.

“Your precious father didn’t bother to call you either,” I went on, “Not even once,” I clicked my tongue. “How sad, really, even your one and only daughter?” My eyebrows lifted. “Not a call, not even a holiday text sent out of obligation?”

I tsked softly, “That has to sting, or maybe it doesn’t.” I added, shrugging, “Maybe it just confirms what you already know.”

I leaned back a little, giving myself a better view of the damage.

You see, I love setting things on fire. I revel in watching blood drip off bodies, those are crude pleasures, very loud ones.

This, though, this is different…watching someone come apart without being touched. Letting a few well-placed words do the work, letting their own thoughts turn on them, and watching certainty rot from the inside out.

No bruises. No screams.

Just the quiet moment when something inside them finally caves.

That part? That part is fucking exquisite.

“I mean, look at me,” I said. “I can’t stand the people I’m expected to call family. Loathe them, actually, and yet, even I showed up,” I rolled my eyes. “Played my part, sat through the chaos, and pretended to care.”

Her gaze drifted away from me, fixing on the farthest corner of the room, like distance might dull the truth crawling through her head. I am quite sure it didn’t.

“So tell me,” I said quietly, “how alone do you have to be, that a week passes and no one, literally no one, notices you’re missing?”

Her eyelids fell down, one second, two, three, then she pried them open. Her jaw clenched as she refocused her gaze on me, rebuilding her walls of control and denial, piece by piece. Well, not gonna lie, she is an interesting woman, I’d love to know her story. It’s a shame I don’t have the time.

“Anyway,” I said, exhaling softly, already bored, “Are you going to give me what I want?” I tilted my head. “I mean, you’ve had a whole week to decide whether this conversation is going to hurt or not.”

I rolled up one sleeve of my shirt. “So, what’s it going to be?”

“I would never tell you a damn thing,” she spat, the words tearing out of her throat hoarsely, her teeth grinding.

I inhaled deeply through my nose.

“Five,” I murmured.

Breathe in, out…

“Four…” I added under my breath, trying to meditate, “…three.”

The confused frown that creased her brow was almost cute.

“Oh, I’m just counting backwards, they say it helps with anger,” I clarified, “because I was about a second away from smashing your head into that wall,” I glanced behind her, the image of it too pleasurable, “But that would’ve killed you,” I shook my head, “Which would be inconvenient, becuase Aylin would never forgive me, so…” I closed my eyes, “…three…two…one.”

I exhaled and opened my eyes.

“Phew,” I said, chuckling lowly, “That was a close one, huh?”

I rubbed my hands together like I was warming them over a fire. “Second chance, Layla, who hurt Aylin in that pool?”

“No one hurt her!” She shot out, frustration splitting her voice. “How many times do I have to say this? No one hurt her back then!”

“Maybe you managed to sell that lie to Aylin, but not to me, though.” I let my gaze linger on her a beat too long. “So, tell me, who hurt her? Who are you covering up for?”

“No one!” She snapped, the tendons in her neck standing out, “I am not covering up for anyone. You think I’d let someone hurt my daughter and get away with it?”

I nodded, “You are not exactly the perfect mother model, so, yeah,” I said, “I do believe you are covering up for someone, you’ve proven to be a failure at this mother thing a long time ago.”

The fire in her eyes multiplied, the green darkening, turning meaner.

“You’re not going to care for my daughter more than me, you asshole,” she hissed, shoving herself closer. Her face was inches from mine now, her rage crackling, “Everything I did, everything I’ll ever do, is to protect her.”

For a very long minute, I didn’t move, I just…watched her.

People, especially parents, they love claiming they’re protectors, it makes the damage they did sound holy.

My eyes traced hers, looking for something to hold onto, a tell, a crack, anything to help figure her out the way I’ve figured Aylin, but no, Layla’s gaze was layered in ways that made my skin itch. She hid quite a lot behind those eyes, things like old lies stacked neatly behind new ones. Things like…grief. Well, what could she be possibly grieving?

I couldn’t tell yet if she was telling the truth or not.

So I did what I always do when the door won’t open.

I stopped knocking.

I used the key I knew would turn, my only bait.

“Who is Riley?”

It worked, too fast.

The walls she’d built up came crumbling down, her manic grip on control slipping till it faded.

Her shoulders lost their edge, and her chin dipped a fraction. She blinked, once, then again, taken aback, startled, like I’ve just dragged a name out of a grave, like I’ve dug it from a faraway memory, a ghost.

Her lips parted, but no words came out, her pupils widened, and her next breath stuttered as if her lungs had briefly forgotten the rhythm of lying.

Good.

There it was.

“How do…” her voice scraped thin, like it had to pass through something sharp on the way out, “How do you know that name?”

Her eyes kept darting between my own, trying to read me the way I’d been reading her, trying to figure out which grave I’d dug into to drag this truth back up.

“Riley…” I repeated the name, watched the way her lower lip slightly quivered, “He is the one who hurt her, isn’t he?” I asked, but she didn’t answer.

Her eyes were open wide, glassy till the very first tear fell, trickling down her cheek.

“Answer me,” My voice was low, but fuck, I was one second away from snapping and losing it all.

She still didn’t speak.

Her cracked lips stayed parted. The tear reached her chin, hesitated there, then tipped and traced a slow line down her throat.

Fuck, I could no longer hold back. Something ugly tore through my chest, a growl rumbled from my throat as my fingers shot out to her throat, wrapping around the weak flesh as I slammed her back into the wall, hard enough to rattle the fucking room.

The back of her head struck with a sharp crack.

My fingers tightened, digging in, feeling skin give beneath the pressure. I leaned in until my nose almost brushed hers, close enough to see the red veins webbing through the whites of her eyes.

I pressed harder, and harder, wanting to take all of her oxygen for failing to do her one and only fucking job—protect her daughter.

“Is he the one who hurt her?” I asked again, my voice shaking at the edges.

Her lips quivered again, her eyes watering and her face flushed, turning red, the veins bulging. She struggled to breathe, and I only pushed and fucking pushed, not an ounce of mercy left in me.

Air couldn’t make it out of her lips anymore, just a low whimper and a pathetic, strangled choke for breath. I squeezed harder…but still, what stared back at me wasn’t fear, no, it was something else I didn’t know, something I didn’t understand.

I was suffocating too, because that sick theory kept pushing and pushing and fucking pushing into my mind, wedging itself deeper till I could no longer escape it.

My jaw ticked, my teeth grinding against one another, “Fucking answer me, did he hurt her?!” I snarled, my voice bellowing into the room, slamming off the walls before it ricocheted back at us.

She shook under the weight of it, the pressure of my fingers, the sheer force of my rage and…pain. It was pain, right? That thing ripping through my chest, that was fucking pain, wasn’t it?

“Did…was she…” Fucking hell, why couldn’t I say it out loud? Why did the words catch like glass in my throat? “Was she…sexually assaulted back then?”

I barely got the words out, but Layla couldn’t answer me anymore. Her eyes rolled back, her body going slack, nearly slipping toward unconsciousness, so I finally let her go.

The sudden rush of air had her gasping loudly.  She sucked it in harshly, coughing as her body folded in on itself, her back arching as she fell forward, gasping still, her hands clawing at her neck as she fought for her newly-gained oxygen.

I saw nothing but red.

I saw the words I said play in front of me, and the demon in me won…it wanted blood and destruction. It wanted something to break that wasn’t inside my chest.

I wasn’t thinking as my fist tangled in her hair, and I slammed her head into the wall. Once. One loud crack. Blood bloomed at her temple and trickled down her face in a thin line, and her eyes rolled back for real this time, her body slumping against the wall, unconscious.

Still not enough…no, not enough.

It didn’t fix it. It didn’t quiet down anything.

I needed to tear the room apart. I needed to fucking scream, to tear my own skin off to erase that thought.

I pushed to my feet with a growl ripping out of me, and I slammed my fist into the wall. Once. twice. Again, again, and…

I saw the blood paint the whiteness, the skin of my knuckles splitting open, but…why wasn’t I feeling it?

The hand landing on my shoulder did nothing but redirect my rage

I turned around so quickly, my elbow driving back hard. My fingers hooked the wrist that dared to hold me, and I yanked hard, dragging the person into my space as my forearm slammed across his throat.

He hit the wall with a loud thud.

For a second, my blurry vision sharpened, the rage pulling into focus as I watched Adam’s usually neutral face shift slightly, a few lines cutting into his brow, “Nathan?” He muttered, his voice measured, his eyes flickering over my face, “What happened?”

I let go of him abruptly and stepped back, my chest heaving once, twice.

I needed to figure this out…I needed fucking answers. Why won’t they just give me these answers? What are they so scared of?

My gaze flicked back to Layla, still unconscious, blood dripping down her face, then away again, because looking at her too long would invite that thought back in.

Control. I tried to seek it, reached for it like it was my fucking oxygen.

I forced my breathing into a pattern, tried to shove the theory into the farthest corner of my mind, because if I clung to it, if I let it stay close, I wouldn’t keep a single person alive in my way.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I could finally breathe. Inhale. Exhale…

I turned toward the door, and without looking at Adam, I said, “Keep an eye on her, and call me when she wakes up.”

⊹˚₊‧────────────‧₊˚⊹

Aylin’s POV

It shouldn’t bother me anymore.

Waking up and not finding Nathan next to me.

He’s always up and about at some ridiculous hour for reasons that make sense only to him and whatever demon he keeps on payroll inside his head. One day, I’m setting an alarm to wake up before him just so I can watch him sleep and confirm he’s actually human, and not some nocturnal vampire.

I’m always going down before him and waking up after him. It’s not fair.

I woke up with another brain-splitting headache, my new norm, I guess. The doctor, the one Nathan had taken me to, gave me some good painkillers to hold me over until the results came back.

Yeah…those results.

Nathan wanted to do what Nathan does best…pick violence as his first language and use it to speed up the process. I refused. The more we wait, the better. As long as this thing doesn’t have a name, I can still pretend it doesn’t exist.

I exhaled hard through my nose and pushed myself upright, giving up on trying to recall what happened last night and blaming it on the eggnog I’d consumed. I was ready to freshen up and go find my psycho boy.

The second my feet hit the floor, the whole room tilted on its axis, and my ass fell right back onto the bed.

“Ohhh,” I breathed, pressing my palms into the mattress as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force my vision to cooperate.

When I opened them again, the ceiling was still moving.

This wasn’t funny anymore.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, then forced them open, blinking until the room stopped spinning. When the floor finally decided to behave, I pushed up to my feet and made my way to the bathroom. I freshened up and changed out of Nathan’s shirt into something more presentable before heading downstairs.

I looked around, searching left and right. It seemed like Christian wasn’t here either. When I still couldn’t find Nathan, I went straight to the window and peeked outside. Snow had covered the roads, the trees, and all the houses across from us, but Nathan’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

God, where would he go in this cold? I shivered at the thought alone. Also, he said we’d spend the day indoors. I’d already planned a few more movies to force him to watch, ones he’d hate, obviously, because joy is not his brand.

I pulled my phone out, ready to call him as I walked into the kitchen, but I paused when my eyes fell on a bag resting on the counter. I stepped closer, my eyebrows pinching together as I opened it. Inside was a thermos of sorts. I unscrewed the cap and immediately got hit with the warm, sweet, and vanilla-heavy smell.

Oh damn, my favorite.

Next to the thermos was a small box of pastries and a tiny note sitting on top.

I picked it up and read the scribbled words.

“Eat before you take your pills.
Going for a workout. Will be back later.“

I stared at it a second longer than I should’ve.

My head tilted. Something about it felt…off, not wrong exactly, just…colder than usual. I blamed this sudden unease on the pounding in my head and focused on the fact that he’d got me my favourite drink again. God, he was always doing these uncharacteristically sweet gestures.

I picked up the thermos and took a sip, humming in satisfaction. The latte was still hot and so damn tasty.

I sat down, grabbed the cheese croissant, and took a bite, reveling in it, because calories don’t count on holidays, then sipped my drink as I went through my social media.

As I was doomscrolling, a notification slid across the top of my screen. I tapped it without thinking.

A new message opened instantly, the number marked as Unknown, and it read.

“Did you check on mommy dearest lately? I really think you should.”

My thumb went still over the screen. The bite in my mouth went down the wrong pipe, and I coughed, rubbed at my throat, and tried to regain control. I set the phone on the counter and straightened slowly.

Something about it, something in the phrasing felt familiar in the worst way, almost like the same hand that had been slipping me those notes over the past year had finally gotten bored of paper.

But what did this mean?

I stood up, anxiety prodding my nerves, and picked up the phone again, reading and rereading. For once, I had a way to contact this person back. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, not sure what to type first, what to ask, which curse to use…

I closed my eyes briefly, breathed in, then started typing.

What do you mean?

The message got delivered and seen within seconds.

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, and then my phone pinged.

Unknown:
Ohh, are we doing the whole texting thing now? Color me excited.

Unknown:
Should’ve done this instead of the notes, speaking of, did you like the last one?
I thought it was timely.

So, it is the same person.

My jaw ticked. This was reckless in a way, for them to text me directly, quickly admitting. My pulse thudded in my ears. Why would they get reckless now, and why would they mention my mom?

The worst scenarios ever started cooking up in my head.

The typing bubble showed up again, and another text came.

Unknown:
Go check on her.

I immediately typed back.

Me:
What did you do?

Unknown:
Me? Absolutely nothing. I just noticed.

My fingers felt cold.

Me:
Noticed what?

Unknown:
That you always trust the wrong men.
Is that some kind of daddy issues you have?
Actually…no. You always felt more like a mommy-issues kind of girl.

My fingers tightened around the phone, the fear bleeding straight into rage as I typed back without hesitation.

Me:
I am going to find out who you are, believe me. You’ve been hiding behind paper and screens for a reason, and it’s not because you’re clever but just so damn weak. You won’t survive being seen.

They saw the message, then one minute dissolved into another, and no answer came back.

My jaw tightened as I paced the kitchen, the phone clenched in my hand, my thoughts tripping over each other, trying to make sense of what this meant, of why my mother had been dragged into this at all.

Finally, I sucked in a deep breath and unlocked my phone again.

I dialed my mother’s number and pressed it to my ear.

We didn’t usually call each other. We didn’t make an effort to stay connected, especially these last couple of years. If we crossed paths, usually because of Grandpa, we’d play our parts and act normal, but never did we try to be a big part of each other’s lives after I moved out.

It was better that way.

I love her, but just from a distance, because when we get too close, things resurface, like memories that I sometimes wish my defective brain would erase entirely.

She didn’t pick up, which wasn’t shocking by any means. She rarely ever picks up, always busy with her work, always has somewhere else to be. I stared at my phone for a second, then dialed Grandpa’s number instead. I’d been meaning to call him anyway. This was our first Christmas not spent together.

“And here I thought you forgot all about your old man,” he said, his warm voice slipping through the line and making me smile despite myself.

“I could never forget you,” I said softly. “You’re my favorite person in the whole world. You know that.”

He chuckled. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” He said, “I think I am just bitter and jealous that you’ve left me all alone.”

My chest tightened painfully at that. I hated the idea of him being alone, but he’d gone back to Virginia, and traveling there would’ve been exhausting, especially with work starting again tomorrow.

“You’re guilt-tripping me, Grandpa,” I mumbled. “Now I feel like a horrible person.”

He chuckled, “I am kidding,” He said, “I didn’t have much time to celebrate anyway. I’ve been rather busy with work, trying to undo what your…dear boyfriend did.” His tone hardened instantly on that last part.

I pressed my hand to my forehead as my headache flared, Nathan’s anarchy replaying in my mind. I wasn’t about to apologize on his behalf, but I was going to make him apologize. He needed to learn that actions had consequences. He didn’t get a pass just because I cared about him.

“Yeah, uh—anyway,” I said, steering us away from that. “First of all, thank you for the gift, but it’s way too much. I’m returning it.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “You’re not returning anything.”

“I have a car, Grandpa. I don’t need another—”

“That little ugly thing is not a car,” he cut in, mockingly, exactly the same way Nathan does. Which is unfair, because my Micra is perfectly fine, and I will die on that hill.

I groaned. “It’s perfectly fine.”

“We’ll agree to disagree,” he said.

I smiled despite myself, then hesitated. “Uh…Grandpa,” I said, more carefully now. “Have you talked to Mom lately?”

“Not for a while,” he replied. “She’s been busy, as far as I know. Why? Is something wrong?”

“I called her, and she didn’t pick up,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I just got…worried.”

“I’ll check on her,” he said gently. “I’m sure she’s fine, just busy, you know how she is.”

“Yeah…okay,” I exhaled. “Can you let me know if you reach her?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation.

We talked a little longer after that, and when we hung up, I felt slightly better, steadier in a way. I reread the texts I’d exchanged earlier and reminded myself of what they were, just psychological prodding, someone trying to get under my skin the same way they’d been doing all year.

I wasn’t going to let it work.

Nathan still wasn’t back, so I decided to go out and check on the…gift I was getting him. Well, it wasn’t exactly a gift per se, but I was fairly certain he’d like it, especially after being a baby and sulking about how I’d gotten everyone else something and apparently forgotten him.

Which, to be clear, I had not. I just enjoyed making him suffer a little.

When I got back, it was nearing three.

Nathan’s car still wasn’t in the driveway or in the garage.

I checked the house, room by room. When it became undeniable that he wasn’t back yet, I dialed his number, but it was off.

I sat at the edge of the couch, picking nervously at my lower lip, telling myself not to spiral, telling myself not to connect dots that didn’t need connecting. The messages from earlier did absolutely nothing to help. God, Nathan didn’t just disappear like this. He was usually the one complaining if I stayed away from him for more than an hour.

This didn’t sit right.

Just then, the sound of the lock turning cut through the quiet, and then the door opened.

Relief hit me so hard it almost knocked the breath out of my lungs. I was on my feet immediately, moving down the hallway without thinking. The tightness in my chest loosened the second I saw him step inside and close the door behind him.

“Hey,” I said softly.

Only then did he seem to register my presence. His eyes flicked to me.

“Hey,” he replied, almost too casual. He didn’t even give me one of his usual teasing smiles.

He shrugged off his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, brushing away the snowflakes clinging to the strands like they were an inconvenience.

“Where were you?” I asked, curious and equally worried.

“Had a few things to do,” he said, already walking closer.

My brows pulled together. “Like what?”

He paused when he was close, and his eyebrow raised, “You don’t need to know everything that I do,” His tone was edgy, a bit defensive, “do you?”

My frown tightened. I wasn’t sure if he was being real or joking, “What do you mean?”

A low breath left his nose. He looked away, just for a second, and that’s when I saw it, how tight his jaw was, how rigid his shoulders had gone. When his gaze came back to mine, it felt…wrong.

“Why don’t you get your things,” he said, “and I’ll drop you off at your place.”

I blinked.

Was he—No. He couldn’t be fucking serious.

My eyebrow lifted slowly. “Excuse me?”

Was he kicking me out? What the hell is wrong with him?

“Aylin, come on,” He said, his voice so…off, “I am not really…feeling my best today, and I don’t want you around when I am like this.”

What?

“I don’t want to…hurt you, so let—” The words stalled, tangled, like they were fighting their way out of him. Nathan always knew what to say. He never stumbled. So what was this?

“Let me take you home,” he added, already turning, like he needed to move before he lost his nerve, or before something else slipped through.

My hand curled around his arm, stopping him.

He went rigid beneath my touch.

I felt my anger flare because he was being so damn unreasonable out of nowhere, but at the same time, I could see it, he wasn’t exactly steady. Something must’ve happened.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, quieter now.

My eyes searched his face, his were darker than usual, shadowed, the lines between his brows drawn tight. His jaw worked like he was grinding something down inside himself, holding it there by force.

My hand slowly slipped from his arm, reached his wrist, before my fingers brushed his hand. My gaze fell when I felt them, the bandages covering his knuckles.

My head snapped up, “What happened?”

He pulled his hand away immediately and shook his head. “Nothing, come on, let’s…go,” He dragged that bruised hand over the back of his neck, frustration leaking through the cracks. His control was slipping.

That alone was alarming.

So I pushed, one more time, before I lost my patience entirely and punched him for acting like this.

I stepped closer, closing the space he was trying so hard to keep between us, and brought my hand to his face. “Something happened, right? You can talk to me, Nathan,” I said, my fingers gently brushing his cheek, “You don’t have to push me away.”

I’d seen him like this once before, on his birthday, but back then, he hadn’t shut me out like this. He’d pulled me closer.

He leaned into my hand, unconsciously, his eyes on mine, still so hard for me decipher.

His jaw shifted beneath my touch, “I need you gone, Aylin, now,” He said, his voice not harsh, but final, “before I make this worse.”

The words landed hard, oh, they did hurt. I pulled my hand back like I’d been burned, my fingers curling into my palm. My eyes searched his face one last time, looking for something, anything, that would make this make sense.

There was nothing.

“Okay,” I said, the word rough in my throat.

I turned away before he could see what he did to me.

I grabbed my coat and purse, my phone and keys, moving back toward the hallway, toward the door, when his hand closed around my arm.

“I’ll drop you off,” he said, no, sorry, he ordered. This asshole.

I tore my arm free, “I can drive.”

I turned, already done with this, when he grabbed me again, his grip firmer this time, his voice harsher, “The roads aren’t safe. I said I will—”

“I said I can drive, let me go!” I snapped, yanking my arm back and whirling around to face him, my frustration boiling over.

“Aylin—”

“Stop saying my name!” I shot out, the way he’s said it too much scraped at my nerves. My eyes narrowed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

His gaze burned into mine, so dark and accusing, like I’d committed some unforgivable sin. What the hell did I do?

“Can’t you see it?” he shot back. “You are.”

“Me?” I scoffed, incredulous. “Are you serious right now?”

The pain in my head spiked, like whatever the pills had been holding back finally slipped its leash. Well, they never stood a chance against Nathan anyway. He was the ultimate headache…this menace.

Then something else happened in my head, something that never happened before.

I didn’t even understand it.

It felt like something crawling behind my eyes, god, too fast, too bright, like sharp flashes detonating inside my skull, like images but without context, sensations without names.

Dear god, my vision stuttered.

“Ahh—” I hissed, wincing, the sound torn out of me as the heel of my palm slammed against my temple, like pressure could keep my head from splitting open.

Nathan was on me instantly.

His hand closed around my arm, then slid up to cup my face, “Hey…hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his expression snapping from fury to alarm so fast it almost hurt to watch.

I tried to blink it away.

It didn’t work.

The crushing pressure stayed while disoriented images flared behind my eyes, unfinished, like my brain was misfiring.

I was at the pool. I was sitting at the edge, my legs dangling, water splashing lazily against the tiles. I was talking…to someone. I could feel my mouth moving, the rhythm of speech, but I couldn’t hear my own voice.

The sound was gone in an instant, swallowed by the pain in my head now.

I winced again, my breath hitching, as if the fragmented images were forcing themselves into shape.

Then it…cut out.

Another flash replaced it, me standing at the top of the stairs, looking down. At what, I didn’t know.

My stomach turned.

What the hell was this?

“Aylin,” Nathan’s voice cut through the noise, sharper now, more urgent, “What’s wrong? What’s hurting you?” He said, “Talk to me.”

He reached for me again, but my panic flared, and I reacted on instinct. I caught his wrists and shoved them away, harder than I meant to, because I needed space, needed air, needed whatever was clawing its way through my head to stop.

I glared at him, my breath uneven, trying to make sense of what was flashing through me.

It didn’t feel random, it felt misplaced like…memories resurfacing out of order, jagged and incomplete, refusing to line up properly, or maybe they weren’t memories at all. I couldn’t tell.

All I knew was that my mind latched onto the last one and refused to let go.

My eyes widened.

Oh…shit.

Did that really happen? Did I say that?

Holy crap. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’d blamed the eggnog, but I knew it was something else that made last night’s events feel so damn hazy.

That’s when it all clicked, like cards falling into place.

I clung to that last memory only, ignoring the rest, my jaw ticking as I glared at Nathan, my fingers curling into the inside of my palm, “Are you acting like an absolute asshole because I told you that I loved you?”

Yeah, he triggered me, and I wasn’t about to back down now. He’d pushed me here.

The words landed wrong. I watched it happen in real time, proving that the memory was real indeed. His expression faltered, just a fraction, like something inside him flinched before he locked it back down. His jaw tightened, ticking in that familiar way he did when he was forcing control back into place.

I didn’t give him the chance to recover.

“Are you really that much of a coward, Nathan?”

Should I have said it last night? Definitely not. Was I about to make a big deal out of it, weaponize it just to drive him mad? Absolutely.

I stepped closer, crowding him the way he always crowds me, invading his space. He looked so damn uncomfortable. Oh, so that was it. It looks like I’ve figured out his weakness, he is allergic to love.

My chest clenched painfully at the mere thought of this, at the way I’d laid my emotions bare only for him to push me away. I swallowed it down. I wasn’t about to cry over him. I’d learned a long time ago, the hard way, how not to cry for men.

Damaging them a little, though? That I could do.

“So what if it’s true?” I asked, my eyes locked on his, refusing to let him dodge this. “I love you, Nathan.” I tilted my head, letting the words drip with mockery. I didn’t mean them one bit. I hated him now. “What are you going to do about that?”

He took a step back.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “I guess.”

My eyebrow raised, “You’re…thanking me?”

He shrugged, “Well, I am a very lovable person, so,” He said, slipping into that familiar mask he felt comfortable in, “Everyone loves me, welcome to the club.”

I ignored the way my heart clenched, I ignored the pain pulsing behind my eyes, I focused on anger and anger only. “But here is the thing, I am not the old Aylin anymore, so even…even if I felt that for you, I’d still love myself more.”

He knew where this was heading.

“You made me promise you something,” I went on, stepping closer again, pointing at him. “You made me promise I wouldn’t leave you. You asked me to promise that, remember?”

His jaw clenched, hard enough I thought it might crack. Whatever he was holding inside himself strained against the cage. This time, I really didn’t understand him. I couldn’t get why someone who had done all that he did, who had said everything he’d said, why would one word only push him this far away from me?

“I promised you, and I meant it,” I whispered, “But that promise stops the second you screw up, and you screwed up big time today, Nathan.”

His expression faltered, and I turned away before he could say anything, before he could pull me back into whatever gravity he thought he still had over me. I knew if I stayed, if I hesitated, he might win, and I couldn’t let him win.

I reached the door, my fingers brushing the handle, then I paused.

I turned back, “This,” I said quietly, “is me breaking up with you. In case that wasn’t clear.”

The rock in my throat expanded as I twisted the knob.

The door slammed shut in an instant.

His body was suddenly there, too close, his warmth right behind me, his palm pressed flat against the door beside my head, cutting off my exit, stopping me from doing the very thing he’d demanded minutes ago.

I turned, my back hitting the door, my breath catching. “Back off,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Five minutes ago, you were so eager for me to leave.”

“Goddammit, Aylin,” he snapped, slamming his hand into the door again, “why can’t you get this?!” He shot out, his neutral tone obliterated, whatever control he’d been gripping with white knuckles had finally slipped.

His eyes weren’t guarded anymore…god, they looked so different, glassy and unfiltered.

“Why can’t you get this?” he repeated, quieter now, almost…pleading, like there was something he needed me to see but didn’t know how to show.

“Get what?” I fired back, “Get what? Tell me…for god’s sake, tell me, Nathan, because I don’t get this…” I shook my head, “I tell you how I feel, and the next day you disappear only to come back and push me away, what am I supposed to get from that?”

“What did you expect, that what…I’d say it back to you?” He grated out, his chest heaving, like he’d run a marathon, “You know that I don’t believe in the notion of love, you know that, so why would you try to trap this—” he gestured violently between us, “—inside that one word?” His brows pinched together, like he was mocking it. “What is love, anyway?”

“Let me explain it in words you’ll understand,” I shot back, because at least I knew there was one thing he’d loved once, “Love is what you probably felt for your father!”

“Yes, and he fucking destroyed my whole life!” He snapped, his voice bellowed in the whole house, his words suddenly loosening my guard, rendering me speechless, especially when his eyes turned red, “And I loved Natalie and Ronald, and I loved Nikolas, but what did they do? They left me all alone.” Each word echoed off the walls and hit me back, “and then, I loved Christian, and he turned his back on me when he had the chance.”

“And you…you told me that fucking word last night and today,” One…one tear slipped down from his eye, “Today, I asked you to give me just one day, to give me space so I can gather myself because everything in me is crashing down and I don’t want you to see me like this…because I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, because I am crazy about you, Aylin, and I’d rather die before I hurt you, but…”

A stuttered breath pushed off his nose, “But you react to that by simply breaking this up, so how…” He shook his head, frustrated and also…broken, “How do you expect me to believe in this love you all keep preaching about?”

My heart stuttered, everything in my chest folded inward, collapsing on itself as my eyes followed the single tear sliding down his cheek, coming to rest at the curve of his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away, to hug him so tight because it hurts so bad.

“What I have for you is not…not love.”

He shook his head again, his brows drawn tight like the truth itself was painful to hold, “It’s much bigger than that…it’s not just a feeling,” He said, “love leaves a way out, this doesn’t, this stays, it sinks its teeth in you and refuses to let go, this corrodes, this doesn’t just want your happiness, it wasn’t you after happiness fails you…so if love ends, then this is a something that doesn’t believe in endings.”

He shook his head, “Do you understand now why I can’t love you?” He muttered, “Because if I loved you, then I am going to lose you, just like I lost them.”

“You see, I’ve barely survived losing everyone else, or else I wouldn’t be this…version of me I am today, but losing you would be the one thing that finally finishes the job.”

My vision turned blurry as he carried on, “I don’t want you to love me, either,” he said.

He lifted his hand, ran the back of his finger down my cheek, his gaze falling where he touched me, like he couldn’t afford to look higher.

“Naming it, it would make it real and real things, they can be taken away.”

⊹˚₊‧──────────────‧₊˚⊹

Happy new year, my peeps! 🎉
I hope you all have a great year ahead and get everything you’re wishing for.
Hopefully it will be an easier year for our crazy family too lol xD

So, what’s your thoughts on the chapter?

It feels like a lot happened, also, I’d like to point out that I am always leaving little clues as to the big mystery of what happened before, but till now, no one figured it out, not even Nathan xD

Also, like I mentioned on my wall, as a new years gift from me to you, you can ask anything on your mind, and I will answer it, as long as it is not a major spoiler!

See ya soon ❤️‍🩹