Chapter 59
The morning light was grey through the curtains when I woke up, and for a moment I forgot everything....
I forgot the night before, the blood, the fear, the way he had looked at me like I was breaking him.
I just lay there in the quiet of my apartment and let myself exist in that small space between sleep and waking where nothing had gone wrong yet.
Then it all came crashing back.
The red dress still on the floor where I had dropped it, the necklace sitting on the coffee table where I had left it, the hollow ache in my chest that I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried.
I remembered his face when I stepped back from him, the way his eyes had gone empty, the way his voice cracked when he said my name, the way he had stood there on the empty street watching the taxi drive away like he was watching his whole world disappear.
I pressed my palms against my eyes and took a shaky breath.
I didn't regret asking for space, I needed it
I needed to process what I had seen, needed to figure out how to reconcile the man who cooked me breakfast and sent me flowers with the man who had beaten three men into the ground without blinking.
But I also didn't regret the day before, the pottery, the watch, the dinner, the dance, the necklace, I didn't regret any of that, I didn't regret him.
I just needed time, that was all, Caspian wasn't going anywhere, he had promised, he had given me his word, and I believed him, I had to believe him.
I thought about Seraphina's words, the way she had looked at me with those knowing eyes when she asked do you even know who he is?
And the way she had asked again is he?
When I said he was still the same man to me. I had been so sure then, so certain that I knew every part of him, that I could accept all of him, but now I wasn't so sure anymore, I had seen something that I couldn't unsee, and I didn't know how to make it fit with everything else I knew about him.
I shook my head and forced myself out of bed.
I showered and got dressed, moving through the motions on autopilot, and when I opened the door to leave for work I stopped, my gaze dropping to the spot where the basket usually sat, the wicker one with the white cloth napkin, the smell of eggs and toast and coffee,
the note in his handwriting telling me to eat.
There was nothing there.
Just the empty hallway, the cold floor, the silence pressing in from all sides.
Another pang of emptiness hit me, sharp and unexpected, I blinked hard and walked toward the elevator.
The office was the same as always, fluorescent lights and the low hum of computers, but everything felt wrong today, the tulips weren't on my desk, there was no note propped against a vase, no beautiful flowers waiting to greet me.
I sat down at my cubicle and stared at the empty space where they used to be.
I hadn't realized how much I had come to depend on them, the flowers, the notes, the small reminders that someone was thinking about me, it had become a part of my routine, something I looked forward to without even acknowledging,
and now that it was gone I felt the absence like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.
I forced myself to open my laptop and start working.
The day was long, the hours crawling by like they were stuck in molasses, and I threw myself into spreadsheets and emails and meetings because it was easier than thinking, easier than feeling, easier than sitting with the hollow ache that had taken up residence in my chest.
My body was at my desk but my mind was somewhere else, replaying the night before on a loop, his face, his bloody hands, the way he had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, and then the way he had looked at me like I had just shattered him.
By the time I packed up to leave, I was exhausted, not the physical kind of tired but something deeper, something that felt like it had settled into my bones.
I walked out of the building and my gaze naturally drifted to the spot where he always stood, leaning against his car with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the door, waiting for me like he had all the time in the world.
There was no one there.
Just the empty curb, the grey pavement, the city moving on without me.
I felt so empty, I felt so lonely, I had spent weeks convincing myself that I was fine, that I didn't need anyone, that I could stand on my own, and now standing here with the weight of everything pressing down on me, I realized how wrong I had been.
I was angry at myself, I was so angry at myself.
He had done everything right, he had been honest with me, he had told me the truth about who he was, he had warned me, and I had accepted him.
I had said yes to all of it. I had let him believe that I could handle it.
And then the first time I saw the reality of his world, I had flinched, I had stepped back, I had looked at him like he was a monster.
And I could still see the pain in his eyes when he realized what I was doing, the betrayal, the quiet devastation of realizing that the woman he loved was afraid of him.
He had been protecting me, those men were harassing me, and he had stepped in, he had done what any man who loved someone would do, he had defended me, and I had punished him for it.
I knew it wasn't that simple, I knew that the violence was the problem, not the intention behind it, but I also knew that he had never once raised his hand to me, he had never once made me feel unsafe, he had only ever shown me kindness and patience and love,
and I had repaid him by looking at him like he was a stranger.
I pressed my hands against my face and took a shaky breath.
But I also couldn't forget what I had seen. The blood, the violence, the way he had beaten those men without stopping, without hearing me, anything, without seeing anything except red. It was stuck in my mind, burned into my memory.
It wasn't just about beating some people.
It was him. He, from what I know about him is a very passionate man.
So passionate and persistent, just like Seraphina had said so.
That when he is into one thing he forgets everything but that.
I have seen it myself. When he was just an unemployed man at my previous place, nothing else touched him, he was so devoted... Even playing housewife...
Then when he left he gave me no way to contact him.
I had no option than to sit there, cry and wait for him.
Then he realised and came back to me, he was back, persistent, no matter how much I pushed him.
And now he couldn't hear me. What if somedays he makes decisions on his own and leaves me again?
Then I'll be devastated. I won't be able to live, I know that for sure.
I'll die, wither away from the unbearable pain of losing him or kill myself.
I had already experienced what it feels like to have my trust broken by the people I loved the most.
I had believed in Oliver, had believed in Anne, and they had destroyed me.
I had been so sure that I could trust them, so sure they would never hurt me.
And then I had seen the truth with my own eyes, and it had shattered everything I thought I knew.
know I was wrong. I knew I had hurt him. I knew he was different from Oliver and Anne, that he would never betray me, that his love was real and deep and true. But I had trust them just as much before they crushed it.
And now, standing here in the empty evening, I felt the same fear creeping into my heart.
I wanted to trust Caspian. I wanted to believe that his love was different, that he was different.
But the image of his bloodied fists was still there, a wall between my heart and my head, a reminder that love had burned me before and it could burn me again.
I was confused, I was overwhelmed. I was terrified of losing the one person who had ever truly seen me and terrified of letting him close enough to break me again.
It wasn't just the blood. It wasn't just the violence.
It was the way he had disappeared into that darkness without hearing me, without seeing me.
The same way he had disappeared from my life before without a word.
What if one day he goes into that darkness and forgets to come back? What if I'm left waiting again?
I needed time. I needed space. I needed to figure out who I was and what I wanted and whether I could love all of him, not just the soft parts.
I started walking home, my footsteps slow and heavy on the pavement, and I let myself feel the emptiness, I let myself feel the loneliness, I let myself feel all of it because maybe if I felt it long enough it would stop hurting.
Maybe if I gave myself enough time, I would figure out how to love the man without being afraid of the monster.
Maybe.