Chapter 20
As night fell, our batch headed to The Alchemist to wind down and catch up on the events of the past twelve years.
I picked up my fork and pierced a tater tot, taking a bite as I glanced sideways at Sloane.
She sat beside me, hands clasped together, cheeks resting on the backs of her hands as she chatted with Maychelle and Taylor.
After the game, Sloane had helped me clean and re-bandage my burn, earning another round of teasing from our table.
Maychelle looked at me, raising an eyebrow. She simply nodded toward Sloane. I frowned as Maychelle rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
Clapping her hands to get everyone's attention, Maychelle grinned. "Guys, I've been wondering," she began, pointing at Sloane. "Sloane, are you married? Looking at your ring, it looks like a wedding ring. Or..." she paused, tilting her head.
Sloane blinked, holding her left hand up and letting the light glint off the ring. "Oh, yeah. I am," she said casually.
The group groaned, disappointed to learn my 'ex' was already married.
"Damn, Rory!" Taylor reached over to mess my hair. "We thought we might see you two together again. You guys are such a good match." She shrugged.
"Yeah," one of the top scorers chimed in, laughing teasingly. "But Rory doesn't seem married. Maybe I could court her."
I laughed, shaking my head as I took a sip of my Lucky Saint, a non-alcoholic beer.
"Don't tell us—you're still single, Rory?" Maychelle clasped her hands to her chest, feigning shock.
I raised a brow, popping another tater tot into my mouth. "I'm not single either," I said with a shrug.
Silence fell over the table. I looked at them, seeing their disappointment that Sloane and I hadn't ended up together.
"What's with the look, guys?" Sloane asked, laughing as she picked up a stick of pork barbecue.
"Well," Taylor sat up straight. "We just thought you two might make a comeback together." She shrugged. "But then again... maybe what you had twelve years ago just ended like that."
I swallowed a lump and glanced at Sloane. She shrugged, resting her hand on her lap. Since we were almost shoulder to shoulder, I reached out to hold her hand under the table. She didn't pull away—well, maybe because we were in public.
"So... who did you end up with, Sloane?" someone else chimed in, grinning.
Sloane tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You guys guess," she said.
I stayed silent, brushing my thumb over her hand. I perched my elbow on the table, resting my chin on my knuckles as I looked at her. "Were you... happy in your marriage?"
Her brow arched. "Why are you asking?"
I saw Taylor and Maychelle exchange knowing glances, as if Sloane and I were about to have a heated argument. "I was just asking," I shrugged. "Not all marriages are happy, right?"
Sloane squinted, lips parting. "Excuse me?!" she hissed, half-scolding, half-amused. "The audacity you have!"
"Guys..." Maychelle stood, moving toward us, but Sloane raised a hand to stop her.
Underneath the table, our hands stayed tangled. "What? I'm just asking," I murmured, taking a sip of my drink. Pressing my lips together, I raised a brow. "Why can't you answer if you're happy or not?"
Her lips twitched, and she groaned. "Why don't you tell me?" she challenged.
I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. "I am happy... even if you're only married to me for revenge."
Sloane swallowed hard and leaned her head back. "Rory..." Taylor called out, worried we were heading toward a fight.
I sat up straight, smiling. Sloane's face flushed as she cleared her throat. "I'm actually married to this idiot beside me," she revealed, taking a long sip of wine.
The table went silent. "What?!" they hissed in unison.
Sloane lifted our intertwined hands under the table. "See?" she said, smiling. "I married Ro a few months ago."
She reached over and revealed the wedding band hanging on my necklace. "See this? She's not single. She's married to me."
"Oh my gosh!" Maychelle plopped back into her chair, covering her mouth. "Oh gosh! You two... are married?!"
The table erupted in cheers as everyone circled us, hugging both Sloane and me like we'd just dropped headline news. I couldn't help but smile, and Sloane didn't hold back either—giggling, her face lighting up with joy at being married to me.
"Congratulations, you guys!" Taylor clapped her hands. "We had no idea you two got back together—and ended up married. Gosh... is this what forever looks like?" She hugged herself, beaming.
I couldn't help but laugh. Under the table, Sloane was still holding my hand, and so was I. We were just enjoying the moment with the batch, laughing and teasing each other.
"Where are you going?" I whispered as I saw Sloane shift in her chair and stand up. She let go of my hand, smiling.
Leaning close despite the loud music, she whispered in my ear, "I just need to take a breather outside. I'll be back." She placed her handbag in my lap. I nodded, my gaze following her as she made her way out.
I sighed and took another sip of my drink. Some of the group headed to the dancefloor, but I stayed at the table with Maychelle and a slightly tipsy Taylor.
"Guys," one of the members called, rushing over. He pointed at me. "Did you and Sloane have a fight?"
I tilted my head, frowning. "No, why?"
"Well, isn't she the one with the black Bentley Continental GT?" he asked, pointing toward the door. "I saw her car pull out from the parking lot, and she's driving so recklessly!"
Just as I stood up, a blaring sound erupted from outside. My breath caught, and I left my things on the table, running toward the commotion. I didn't know who followed me, but I focused only on the source of the noise.
My chest pounded as I pushed through the crowd. "Excuse me! Make way!" I shouted, clearing the path. My feet froze. Sloane's car was smashing repeatedly into the empty parking lot's barriers. The engine roared as she revved again, and then—bang—the car's hood erupted into flames.
"Shit!" I hissed.
"Gosh!" I heard Taylor and Maychelle behind me.
"Sol!" I shouted, sprinting toward the car. I tried the driver's side, but it was locked. Pressing my hands against the tinted window, I tried to see her inside—but it was impossible. "Sloey! Sol!" I pounded on the glass, my panic rising.
The fire was growing, licking the edges of the hood. I clenched my fist and struck the window again, ignoring the sting in my injured hand. "Sol!" I yelled, hitting it harder.
It cracked slightly. "Rory!" Maychelle and Taylor tried to pull me back, but I shoved them away.
"Call the authorities! And the ambulance!" I hissed, eyes locked on the car, desperate to get her out.
"Sol!" I slammed the window again, feeling my knuckles bleed, but I didn't care. My only focus was saving her. "Sol! Sloane!" I hit the glass until it finally gave way.
I was about to break more of it when Maychelle and Taylor pulled me away.
"Let me go! Sloane's there!" I hissed, struggling against their hold. I shoved them aside, ready to run back to the car—but before I could, it exploded.
I flinched, covering my face with my arms. My eyes went wide. "No... no, no, no! Sol!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. My chest ached, my head throbbed.
"Ro!"
My body froze at the familiar voice.
"Aurora!"
I spun around. There she was—Sloane—phone in hand, eyes wide, darting between me and the burning car.
"Sol," I gasped, rushing to her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Gosh... thank goodness you're safe," I whispered, burying my face in her shoulder, trembling.
Sloane hugged me back, her hands rubbing my back gently. "What happened?" she asked.
"You're safe... you're safe," I repeated, my body shaking.
"I am safe," she said softly. "I was on a call when I heard a loud explosion." She pulled back slightly, cupping my face with both hands.
"Why the hell are you here?" she asked, eyes wide with worry.
My hands held hers tightly. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you." My voice broke, tears still spilling down my cheeks.
"Sol?" Taylor's voice called out. "You're not in your car?" She pointed at the burning vehicle.
Sloane looked from me to Taylor, shaking her head. "I told Ro I'd step outside for a breather. I was on the phone a moment ago. What do you mean I wasn't in the car?"
"It's your car that's burning!" I gasped, ragged from the panic. "I thought... I thought you were inside. I tried to save you—but you're here. Thank God you're here."
"What...?" she blinked, pulling back slightly, her hands holding my bleeding, injured hand. "Ro!" she hissed. "Why would you—" She swallowed hard, eyes wide and bewildered.
I sniffled, wiping my tears on the sleeve of my cardigan. "I thought I'd lost you." I leaned my forehead against her shoulder. "I was so scared... I thought I'd lost you entirely," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Sloane's grip on my hand faltered for a heartbeat. Then she drew a deep breath, stroked my hair gently, and murmured, "You idiot." She pulled me close again, wrapping me in a tight hug that anchored me to her.
?·???°???°???·?
The gathering that should have been filled with laughter ended in chaos. Sloane's car was reduced to a burnt shell, the flashing lights of ambulances and patrol cars casting harsh shadows as authorities combed through nearby surveillance cameras.
After giving her statement, Sloane stayed by my side. I sat on a low concrete plot box, my overcoat draped loosely around my shoulders. My head hung down as I stared at my hands—aching bones, trembling fingers, chest still pounding so hard I clutched at my shirt just to steady myself.
A pair of shoes appeared in front of me. When I looked up, it was Sloane. She didn't speak—just cupped my face in her warm hands. That simple touch made my breathing ease. Closing my eyes, I pressed my palms over hers, grounding myself.
"Let's go back to the hotel," she said softly. "I'll drive your car. I've decided not to file a case—what's the point? The car's already a total loss." She paused, her thumb brushing my cheek. "Besides, everything's fine now... except your hand."
A quiet chuckle escaped me, though it hurt to move. She sighed and withdrew her hand, turning toward the others who had been waiting nearby.
"Guys, thank you for staying," she said, her fingers sliding back into mine. "But we need to go. I'm sorry for the way this night turned out."
Our batchmates waved off her apology with ease. One by one, they hugged us, some patting my back with playful encouragement. I stood, still clinging to Sloane's hand like a lost child finally found.
"Well, we should really meet up more often," Maychelle suggested brightly.
"Oh well," Taylor chuckled. "I could make the States the neighbor of the UK if I must," she teased, knowing she had flown all the way from New York for the reunion.
"Just set a schedule. You know we'll clear our calendars to have fun with you guys!" another chimed in.
A faint smile touched my lips despite everything. Our club was small, but they were good people—warm, loud, and impossible not to cherish. I exhaled a long breath, waving as we all parted ways.
Sloane guided me toward my car. Luckily, I had convinced her to leave her belongings with me earlier, insisting we'd be headed to the same place anyway. Now, hers was the only car lost to the flames.
The drive back to the hotel was heavy with silence. Neither of us spoke, though my mind refused to rest. The image of her trapped in that burning car replayed mercilessly, and I couldn't stop my chest from tightening.
When we finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, Sloane was the first to step out. I fumbled with my seatbelt and reached for the door, but she was already there, opening it for me.
"Thank you," I mumbled, heat rushing to my cheeks.
She only hummed, shutting the door after me. At the backseat, I retrieved our bags before she could reach for them. Shaking my head, I stepped aside to carry them myself.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the ER?" she asked, closing the car. Her hand slipped gently into mine, her fingers brushing over my injured knuckles as we walked.
Inside, the hotel staff greeted us with polite smiles. We both nodded in return before heading up the staircase.
"Sol, I told you—I'm fine," I insisted quietly. "I still have my painkillers. I'll take one tonight to ease the pain."
She let out a sigh, audible and weighted, but didn't argue further.
I stopped in front of my hotel door but walked past it, pausing instead at hers. Sloane opened the door, already holding her duffle bag.
"Go ahead and rest," she said, waving me off.
I forced a faint smile, gave her a small nod, and turned back toward my room. Once inside, I shut the door behind me, legs buckling weakly. I dropped onto the couch with my duffle bag and buried my face in my hands, a bitter laugh breaking through my lips.
"Who the hell would try to harm her?" I whispered to myself.
Pushing up, I grabbed a clean set of clothes and showered. The steam did nothing to loosen the knot in my chest.
When I stepped out, toweling my hair, my phone rang. Sloane's name lit up the screen. I answered immediately.
"Hey."
"Can we talk?" Her voice was sharp, direct. "Come to my room. Now." She hung up before I could reply.
I exhaled hard, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I pulled on a hoodie and sweatpants, slipped into socks and sandals, and made my way to her room.
I knocked softly. "Sol?"
The door cracked open, then swung wider. She tugged me inside, shut the door, and guided me straight to the couch. She sat me down, then settled beside me, her gaze fixed on me—plain, unreadable, but heavy with something I couldn't place.
She reached for my injured hand, fingers tracing the bandaged knuckles. "Why would you do it?" she murmured, head bowed.
"What do you mean, why?" I scoffed lightly. "Sol, you're my wife. Whatever you think of this relationship, legally and in my heart—you're my wife. Of course I'd save you."
A soft, humorless chuckle slipped from her lips, though her touch lingered. "You could've grabbed something—anything—to break that window. Why use your injured hand? Your burn hasn't even healed, and now this."
"Do you really think I had time to weigh options?" I asked, meeting her eyes. "When I saw your car slamming into the barriers, smoke pouring out... I couldn't think straight. My chest felt like it would explode. The only thought in my head was you. Saving you."
Her expression flickered. Then, quietly: "Why?"
My brow furrowed. "What?"
"Why save me?" She let go of my hand, leaned back, a faint smile ghosting her lips.
"Wouldn't it be easier if I'd died in that car?
You'd be free. No marriage, no complications.
You wouldn't have to deal with me." She laughed hollowly, crossing her arms. "You'd even keep the investors I brought in.
Your company's safe. Everything would be wrapped up neatly. "
"Stop," I cut in, swallowing hard. "Why are you talking like that? Like you want to disappear?"
She tilted her head toward the ceiling. "Maybe I should ask you something. Are you doing all this just to win me over... so you can use me again, Ro?"
A bitter laugh escaped me. "Are we really back here again, Sol?"
She gave a faint shrug, her smile thin. "I don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Ro," she said firmly, her voice steady but laced with weariness.
"I don't know why you're doing this—asking for another chance, telling me you didn't mean what you said twelve years ago.
I can't even make sense of it." She pushed to her feet, staring down at me.
"And I don't know what's going to happen to us if we keep going like this. "
I stood, heart racing. "Do you really want to date someone else?"
She avoided my gaze, rubbing her arms.
"Sol," I stepped closer, though she instinctively retreated. "Can't we try? Just try first?" I reached for her hand. "If it doesn't work... you're free to walk away. I won't stop you."
She exhaled slowly, eyes darting to mine. "I don't know," she whispered.
I cupped her face with trembling hands, resting my forehead against hers. "Sol..." My voice broke. "I know I hurt you. I know I said things I can never take back. And I regret them every single day."
She didn't answer.
I tilted her chin gently. "Sol," I whispered again, leaning closer.
But she turned her head aside. "Let's get some rest, Ro. It's been a long day. Go back to your room."
The air between us thickened. I let my hands drop, forcing a faint smile as I nodded. "Good night, then."
I slipped out the door, closing it softly behind me. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the wood grain. Then I heard the click of her lock sliding into place.
Leaning my hand against the door, I let out a broken laugh. "I know I messed up," I whispered to the silence. "And I'm sorry."
Taking one last look around my hotel room, I decided to clear my head with a walk outside. The streets were dim, the countryside silence broken only by the rustling of leaves. Trees lined the pathway, cloaking it in shadow. Yet the place was achingly familiar.
Five minutes later, I found myself standing in front of the Ivy Cottage at Church Lane.
My gaze lingered on the main door of the three-story complex—the historic stonework, the way ivy still curled against its walls. A faint smile tugged at my lips. Sloane and I had lived on the third floor once, building a life together for four fleeting years.
Now, someone else called it home.
It had been twelve years since our dream dissolved into the cold winds of Oxford.
Twelve years since I wore the mask of someone who moved on, even while regret hollowed me out from within.
I regretted everything—leaving her, obeying them, turning my back on the one person who believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.
I regretted not saying I love you one last time before I shattered her with my silence. I regretted losing my sun.
I don't know how long I stood there, staring up at the fa?ade, replaying memories—us laughing in my old car, carrying bags of groceries up the stairs, her pulling me into the rain, dancing with wild abandon.
"I miss us," I whispered with a broken smile, turning to leave.
But my steps froze.
Someone was standing a few paces away, her gaze also fixed on the Ivy Cottage. My breath caught when she looked up and our eyes locked.
"Sol," I breathed.
She was wrapped in an overcoat, slippers on her feet, her breath fogging in the chill. I stepped forward slowly, and she mirrored me, as if we were destined to meet halfway—just like the old days.
When we stopped, face to face, my hands trembled. My chest thundered, my head throbbed. I was on the edge of breaking. And yet, with her standing there, a fragile hope refused to let go.
I searched her eyes. Beneath their calm I saw the cracks, the effort it took for her to hold herself together.
"I didn't know you'd be here too," I said with a bitter laugh, glancing at the glowing windows of the Ivy Cottage.
"Do you even remember all the plans we made inside this apartment?
" Her laugh was low, bitter, but laced with pain.
"Do you remember how we started building our own world like we were the only two people alive?
We had dreams, Ro. So many dreams. And then twelve years ago, after four years together, after living under one roof, after planning a future—" her voice cracked, "—you spat in my face that you never loved me.
That you only stayed because I was good in bed. "
My head throbbed, threatening to split. Because even if I knew I had spoken those words, not a single one of them had ever been true. A knot formed in my throat. My lips parted, but no sound escaped.
Sloane's eyes glistened as she smiled through her tears, the sight cutting me in half.
"All those years, Ro, I longed to hold you one last time.
I prayed you'd come back, that somehow you'd still be mine.
But when the hope finally died, I decided to hate you.
To loathe you until my last breath." Her voice shook, trembling like glass.
"I married you because I wanted to break you the way you broke me.
To control you. To make you beg. To be the only one you'd ever need—and the only one who could deny you. "
Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth, sobbing.
"Sol..."
"You could've just left me alone," she choked out, laughing bitterly through her tears.
"But why did you do it, Ro? Why did you have to crush me so completely that I've carried the pain for twelve goddamn years?
" Her voice rose, raw, sharp as a blade.
"How could you hurt me like that? And yet—" she gestured wildly, broken, "—and yet when that car was burning, you ran into the fire to save me.
Why?! Why would you do that after everything? !"
I stepped closer, brushing away her tears.
"Because from the moment I met you, I knew I'd found something once in a lifetime.
" My voice was unsteady, cracking under the weight of my guilt.
"I was a coward, Sol. A selfish, stupid coward who chose to walk away instead of fighting for us.
I was heartless when I hurt you with those words.
" My throat tightened as I clutched her trembling hands.
"But when I saw that car in flames—I couldn't stand still.
I couldn't think. All I knew was that I couldn't lose you again. Not like that. Not ever."
Sloane wrenched her hands free, her face red and wet from crying. She pressed her palms to her face, dragging them down with a shudder. "We can't keep doing this," she whispered, almost to herself. "We can't keep reopening the same wounds. The past is gone. Nothing will change it."
I braced myself for rejection. For the final blow I wasn't sure I could survive.
But instead, she cupped my face, her thumbs stroking my damp cheeks. Her gaze locked onto mine—tired, raw, but resolute. "So... let's give each other a shot. Let's start fresh."
"Sol..." My voice broke as I pulled her against me, pressing a trembling kiss to her forehead, holding her like a lifeline.
Her arms slid around me, squeezing tight. I shut my eyes as tears spilled freely. "I'll do my best," I whispered into her hair. "I swear I'll be the best for you. For us."
Even if I didn't know how long I had before the curse of my bloodline caught up to me, I would fight. For her. For us. For the only person who ever truly mattered.