Chapter 17 #2
"There was another woman. I knew of her, of course, but she was never presented as anyone of importance and I believed it would be alright.
I was wrong, of course. He told me himself, not because he felt any obligation to, but because it was the cleanest way to leave me.
There was no care in it, nor any consideration for how it might have made me feel. "
"Eleanor…"
"He said I had been in the way, that I had imposed myself, as though I had created something that had never truly existed.
I tried to understand what he meant. I thought perhaps I had misunderstood something, that I had seen meaning where there had been none, but I know that I had not.
Even so, he made it very clear that I had simply been mistaken, and then he left. "
Her breath caught, just briefly. She let out a small, uneven exhale. Her voice trembled, though she did not stop.
"I had been foolish. That was the conclusion that everyone reached. I had imagined something that had never been offered, and I was left to accept that fault. I felt ridiculous, exposed in a way I had not expected. It felt as though everyone around me could see how misplaced my faith had been."
She turned further away, one hand lifting slightly as though to steady herself, though there was nothing there to take hold of.
"I thought he would choose me," she said, barely above a whisper now. "I thought that was what it meant, but he never had such intentions. No man ever would."
The silence that followed held, and this time, she could not hold herself together.
Julian did not do anything immediately. He stood there, listening to the quiet sound of her breathing as she tried and failed to regain control of herself.
Everything she had told him remained suspended between them, raw and stripped of the distance he wanted to be maintained.
"He was a fool," he said simply.
Eleanor did not turn back toward him. Her gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the balcony, though it was clear she saw nothing at all. Julian stepped closer.
"He had no understanding of what was in front of him," he continued. "No understanding of you, and certainly no understanding of what it meant to lose it."
Eleanor drew in a small, uneven breath.
"It did not feel as though I offered anything, as far as he was concerned."
"Then he was even more witless than I had assumed."
A sound escaped her then, something between a breath and a broken laugh. Her hand rose briefly to wipe at her face, frustrated by her own tears that had suddenly started to fall.
"I should not be crying over this still," she said, her voice strained. "It is ridiculous."
"It is not ridiculous."
"It was so long ago."
"That changes nothing."
"It should!" she said. "It should be long behind me, and yet here I am, still speaking of it as though it matters."
"It matters because it hurt you. What he did to you was cruel, and what he allowed others to assume was worse. None of that reflects on you."
"You cannot possibly know that," she said, trying to straighten herself. "You did not stand there while everyone looked at you that way, nor endure being pitied. You did not have to hear people speak as though your greatest failing was simply caring too much."
Her voice trembled again at the last words. She did not want to care, not about the other gentleman nor the one standing before her.
"If he had possessed even a fraction of sense," he said, "he would have done everything in his power to keep you. And yet, I am grateful."
Eleanor looked at him then, truly looked at him, as though she had not expected that.
"He was a fool," he repeated. "And if he had not been, I would not be standing here with you now."
The air seemed to still around them. Eleanor’s eyes widened just enough to betray her and show that she had truly taken his words to heart.
"Do not tell yourself that you were foolish for hoping," he said. "Do not reduce yourself to the measure of someone too shortsighted to recognize what was before him. You are worth far more than whatever he led you to believe."
Eleanor swallowed hard, her voice almost gone.
"You should not say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because I might believe you."
"Then believe me."
The words settled heavily between them. He lifted a hand then, reaching for her without caution. His fingers brushed gently against her cheek, and Eleanor did not move away.
"You deserve everything you once hoped for," he said, his voice lower now. "More than that, you deserve to be with someone who knows exactly what he has been given."
The last thread of restraint broke. He did not seem to pause to reconsider, and he did not retreat into caution or practicality or any of the barriers he had spent years constructing. He simply moved, closing what little distance remained between them, and kissed her.
There was nothing hesitant in it. It was sudden, driven by everything that had been building between them for far too long to remain contained any longer.
Eleanor made the smallest sound of surprise against him, but she did not pull away.
Instead, her hand caught lightly at his sleeve, holding there as though steadying herself against the force of the moment.
For those few suspended seconds, everything else disappeared; the arrangement, the rules, every careful reminder that this was not real. All of it fell away beneath the simple reality of him kissing her as though he had wanted to for far longer than either of them had admitted.
And when she kissed him back, however briefly, however instinctively, it was enough to make everything else vanish entirely.