Chapter 36
Idon’t know what went through my mind. All I knew was that I couldn’t stop.
Not when I almost ran him over and not when I watched him chase me, the engine of his bike roaring like the demons in my mind I have tried to outrun.
But the moment I spotted him in my rearview, his eyes burning with the same intense commitment, I knew it was over before the chase even began.
He’d already clawed his way in with his charm, his words, the intensity in his stare anytime he’d tell me about his past. He was sewn into my skin like he’d somehow placed a part of himself inside me the night he first pulled the silk through my palm.
I hated myself for wanting him, for knowing that I’d always want him.
Even the secrets weren’t enough to pluck him from within.
So I had to stop.
I stood there, waiting to be torn inside out again, but instead of hurting me, he laid his heart out on a platter, confessing the entire truth he’d been hiding all along. And for the first time, I saw hope flash across his face.
It felt like a nightmare as the words fell from his lips.
But it didn’t make me love him any less.
Now, as I shake in his arms, the truth lodged in my throat like a foreign object, the words he spoke not long ago ring in my ears. And still, I lean into him, like he’s my only source of truth in a world full of lies.
“If none of this happened”—I grip onto him, my cheek pressed against his wet tux—“would you have told me?”
He grips me tighter like he knows the answer will have me pulling away.
I pull back to look up at him, his dark hair slick around his face, and when our eyes clash, his bloodshot and beautifully broken, I hold my breath.
His mouth parts like he wants to say something, then closes as I exhale, already having the answer to my question.
I turn, not to leave…but to choose him.
Even after the lies.
Even after the confessions.
I round the car and open the passenger door, slipping into the leather seat.
I wait with my hands clasped together, staring out into the night and recounting everything that’s transpired.
A few moments pass, then the driver’s seat creaks as he takes a seat beside me.
The engine sputters to life, the hot air blowing through the air vents over my face.
It doesn’t mean I’m not hurt.
But I’m not running.
Not anymore. Not from a man who’s made it his whole identity to find me.
The moment we entered past the doors to this safehouse—one of many, I’m sure—he was ready to do whatever he needed to make things right. But I don’t know if I’m as forgiving as everyone else.
I don’t think I’ll ever know what it means to forgive. It wasn’t just a simple decision or a choice. It held a weight like no other. People say moving forward starts with forgiveness, and I thought I was never capable of it. Until I saw Malik on his knees.
Now it feels like something I’m not strong enough to withstand.
As I stand in the bare kitchen, my gaze is locked on his, the honey in his eyes soaked with desperation, and for the first time since the moment I shook his hand in my office, he isn’t the man I thought I knew—invincible, formidable, and untouchable.
He’s broken and remorseful.
It would take one word to crush him. Make him feel what I felt. But I don’t have it in me. I couldn’t break a man already broken by the world. The pieces he carries with him are not the lies he kept but the truths that would have crushed anyone else.
They’re the harsh realities that some of us live, and as I stand here, seeing my pain mirrored in his, I can almost feel the weight of it all. The helplessness he’s faced in all the failed attempts to find something he’s been holding onto, and every regret and mistake he’s made along the way.
I can see it all.
He’s already killing himself, and he doesn’t know how to stop.
Do I want him to be sorry? I didn’t realise just how much I wanted to see him on his knees until now.
I wanted it, but not like this. It makes me ache in places I thought only he could heal. I hate that the one person I trusted most is the one on his knees, begging for my forgiveness. But that isn’t the worst of it, because deep down, I hate that I was so fucking close to doing it.
“I knew I’d be competing with another,” I whisper, my hands by my sides as he stares up at me through bloodshot eyes. “But I never thought I’d be competing against myself.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum as the words slip from his lips.
“You lied to me from the beginning.”
“Isla…”
“I trusted you, Malik. I blew up my entire fucking world for you. My career, my life. I was ready to throw it all away. And this whole time, it was just a lie.”
I step back, putting distance between us, the angry thumping in my chest louder than my thoughts. His eyes are full of sorrow and remorse, but it doesn’t change anything.
How can it?
Everything is tainted by that poisonous lie.
“Tell me how you could tell someone everything you know about their past, knowing it would cause them pain?” he asks, reaching for me. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought if I kept it from you for just a little longer, I could protect you from it all.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “If this is what it’s like, fuck your protection. I don’t fucking need it!” The black tendrils of anger mix with heartache, twisting inside me. “You fucking used me. You let me fall in love with you knowing that none of it was real.”
“It was real for me!” he roars, standing to full height, and one of his steps is enough to eat the distance between us.
“It was fucking real for me, Isla, every fucking second of it.” He lifts his hand, and I let him touch me.
He cups my face, and I don’t move, my chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“Then I won’t ask for it,” he says with a darkness to his voice. “I’ll earn it.”