Whispers of Deception

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

T he park was eerily quiet at night, only the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze offering any hint of life. The streetlights cast long, soft shadows across the path, and the moon hung low in the sky like an unblinking eye. Lilia stood at the edge of the fountain, staring into the dark water. She was cold but too stubborn to notice, or maybe too numb. Her arms were wrapped around herself as if she could hold herself together, even as she felt like she was falling apart inside.

She’d been waiting for him for almost half an hour now, though it felt like much longer. Her phone had been in her hand the entire time, and her grip on it tightened with every passing second. Each time she heard footsteps or a rustle in the bushes, her heart jumped into her throat, thinking it was him. And each time, her heart sank when it wasn’t.

Then finally, she heard it—the unmistakable sound of his footsteps approaching. She glanced up, her breath catching when she saw him walking toward her, his face partially hidden by the shadows. He was wearing a dark jacket, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression unreadable. But there was something different about him—something cold, distant.

“Augustus,” she whispered as he came closer, her voice barely carrying through the still night air. She couldn’t believe how long it had been since they had last seen each other. It felt like years, like a lifetime had passed since everything had come crashing down around them.

“You haven’t been answering any of my calls,” she said softly, her words laced with the hurt she had been holding back for days. “Not even a single text . . . ”

Augustus didn’t meet her eyes, his gaze fixed on the ground as he stood a few feet away from her. His jaw was clenched tightly, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything at all. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough.

“I think it’s best if we don’t talk.”

His words hung in the air between them, cold and cutting. Lilia flinched as if she had been struck. She took a step closer to him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of warmth, any hint of the Augustus she had known for so long. But his expression remained impassive, distant.

“Do I not get a say in this?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re just going to decide that we shouldn’t talk? After everything that’s happened?”

Augustus finally looked up at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or regret. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m trying to protect you.”

She let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Protect me?” she scoffed, her tone sharp. “Sure. No, Augustus, you’re just trying to protect yourself. Perfect Augustus Clark, always worried about his reputation, about his family’s spotless legacy, his decades of familial excellence.”

His eyes flashed with anger for a brief moment, but he quickly suppressed it, his face hardening once again. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Lilia,” he said coldly. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Did your dad tell you to stay away from me?” she demanded, her voice rising with frustration. She knew how much pressure Augustus’ father put on him, how much he valued the Clark family’s reputation. It had always been an unspoken weight between them, but now . . . now it was breaking them apart.

“Like your mother hasn’t told you the same?” he retorted, his tone sharpening. “Don’t act like you’re not under the same pressure.”

Lilia’s chest tightened, a familiar ache spreading through her ribcage. “Obviously, I haven’t been listening to her,” she said, her voice raw. “But you—you’ve been ignoring all of my texts, my calls. You completely disappeared when I needed you the most.”

Augustus hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, and that hesitation told her everything she needed to know. “It’s not just about my dad,” he said quietly. “This is bigger than us, Lilia. You know that. The media, the police—everyone is watching us. And if we keep?—”

“You’re a coward.”

Augustus looked away, his shoulders tense. His silence was more painful than any words he could have said.

“Nothing good is going to come out of us seeing each other,” he said finally, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him.

Lilia felt the words hit her like a punch to the gut. She blinked back the tears that were stinging her eyes, trying to hold herself together, but it was getting harder with every second that passed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe that after everything they had been through, after everything they had shared, Augustus was just . . . giving up.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Don’t you think I know how bad this looks? But we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, Augustus. We can’t just . . . walk away from this.”

“I’m not pretending it didn’t happen,” Augustus said, his voice tight. “I’m trying to make sure we don’t destroy ourselves in the process.”

Lilia shook her head, tears spilling over now as she stared at him, her heart breaking with every word he said. “So that’s it?” she choked out. “You’re just going to walk away? You’re just going to . . . leave me to deal with this on my own?”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, his voice harsh. “But I can’t . . . I can’t keep doing this, Lilia. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s going to be okay when it’s not.”

She took a step closer to him, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his arm, desperate for some kind of connection. “We can figure this out,” she pleaded. “We’ve been through worse, Augustus. We’ve always gotten through it together.”

But Augustus pulled away from her touch, his eyes hardening again. “This is different,” he said, his voice cold. “We can’t just fix this, Lilia. This isn’t something we can just make go away.”

Lilia felt the last bit of hope drain out of her as she looked at him, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She had always known Augustus was a realist, but she had never expected him to be a coward.

“I thought you were different,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought you would fight for us.”

Augustus’ face twisted with pain for a brief moment, but then he looked away again, his expression closing off once more. “I’m trying to do what’s best for both of us,” he said quietly.

She laughed bitterly, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What’s best for us?” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “This isn’t about us, Augustus. This is about you. You’re just scared. Scared of what your dad will think, scared of what people will say about you.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “You think this is easy for me? You think I haven’t been lying awake at night, thinking about all of this? About what happened? About what we did?”

Lilia’s breath hitched at his words, and the familiar weight of guilt settled in her chest once more. The memories of that night, of everything they had done to protect each other, were like a dark cloud that followed her everywhere she went.

“I’m not asking you to pretend like everything’s okay,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I’m asking you to be here for me. I’m asking you not to leave me.”

Augustus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated, but his voice was hollow, and Lilia knew he was lying. Maybe not to her, but to himself.

“You already have,” she whispered, her heart breaking as she said the words out loud. “You already made that choice.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was suffocating, filled with all the words they couldn’t say, all the feelings they were too afraid to face. Lilia could see the conflict in Augustus’ eyes, the war raging inside him. But she also knew that he had already made up his mind.

And that realization was enough to shatter her completely.

She stepped back from him, her tears falling freely now as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t hurt.”

Augustus looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to reach out to her, but he didn’t. He just stood there, watching her with that same distant expression, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets.

Lilia wiped her eyes again, her chest aching with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. She couldn’t stand to be there any longer. She couldn’t stand to look at him and see the man she thought she loved—the man who was choosing to walk away from her.

“Goodbye, Augustus,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She turned and walked away from him, her footsteps echoing through the empty park. She didn’t look back, didn’t dare to, because she knew if she did, she might fall apart completely.

The walk home felt like it took forever. Every step felt heavier than the last, and by the time she reached her front door, she was exhausted—physically, emotionally, in every way possible.

She went straight to her room, not bothering to turn on the lights. She crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head as if that could protect her from the world outside. But it couldn’t protect her from the pain inside her chest, from the hollow ache that refused to go away.

She cried herself to sleep that night, her tears soaking her pillow as she curled into herself, trying to block out the memories of Augustus’ voice, of the way he had looked at her.

And for the first time in a long time, Lilia felt completely and utterly alone.