Chapter 40 #2
The door suddenly swung open, revealing Zane standing tall before me, his face a canvas of the pain I had caused him. Anger had faded, leaving only disappointment in its wake. He left the door ajar and retreated to sit on the edge of his bed.
I rose and walked toward him, closing the door softly behind me. I knelt before him, reaching for his hand, but he pulled it away. I fought to steady my breathing for the sake of what we once dreamed of together.
“We often judge people based on superficial impressions…
A well-dressed man may not be wealthy; a smiling face might hide a world of hurt.
You found out I'm pregnant and jumped to conclusions about infidelity, but what if I told you it's not like that at all?” I searched his eyes, aching to hear his thoughts.
“How could I not make assumptions when you left me in the dark?” he replied, his voice laced with disgust. I lowered my gaze, struggling to keep the knot in my throat from choking me completely.
“You're right, and I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to handle it.” More tears fell uncontrollably.
“Then tell me the truth! Help me understand!” he demanded, lifting my chin so I could meet his gaze. In that moment, something shifted; he saw right through me. He understood even the part I had forgotten. He could read me like no one could. He saw my soul; he always did.
His eyes widened as realization dawned on him, and he pulled back, taking a moment to gather himself. Suddenly, he collapsed to his knees before me, grasping my shoulders with an intensity that spoke of his desperation.
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked slowly, his eyes searching mine for answers. I didn't need to give them; instead, I fell into his embrace, and he held me tightly, as if trying to shield me from harm, though it was too late. He wept like a lost child, his pain deeper and somehow familiar to him.
In that moment, on the floor, we shared an embrace that felt transformative. Maybe love was as destructive as it was beautiful. If I hadn't fallen for Zane, I might still be with Marco, living a life of carefree school days, summer adventures, sandy beaches, parties, and new friendships.
After a while, Zane pulled back and asked another question.
“Who did this to you?” His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, dark and unforgiving.
I shook my head, unwilling to let him act on the rage that brewed within him.
But he could see through my facade; it wasn't difficult for him to connect the dots.
He knew I had a photoshoot and that I hadn't shown up at school or met him the following day. The truth was etched across my face.
“It was your mother's work partner, Andrea, wasn't it?” he asked, and I buried my face in my hands, unable to respond.
He scrambled to his feet, storming toward the door in a fit of rage. In an instant, he was downstairs, flinging the door open as I raced after him.
“V!” I called out, and her door swung open. “Please, help me! If you don't, he's going to commit murder today.” Without a moment's hesitation, she followed me. Everything was happening so quickly that I struggled to grasp all the details.
Once we stepped outside, I spotted him sprinting toward his car. Marco was still there, having exited his vehicle to watch the unfolding chaos. I felt a flicker of relief that he hadn't left yet—maybe he could help me talk Zane down, or perhaps V could.
“Zane, please stop, please!” I pleaded. He froze, caught in the moment.
Marco stood nearby, his mouth agape as he tried to process the scene.
V halted too, allowing me to inch closer to Zane.
I reached out, touching his back before grasping his arm to turn him toward me.
His eyes met mine, deep and haunting, as if recalling a long-buried memory.
“Do you remember Rome, your nightmare?” he asked, a bitter smile crossing his lips.
“You insisted it had nothing to do with me, but what I never told you was that you called my name during it—just like you did now: 'Zane, please stop, please.
' I was your nightmare.” His words left me momentarily stunned.
Why would I say his name? What kind of nightmare was I having? It wasn't as if dreams could predict the future. But perhaps my subconscious was warning me, piecing together all the little facts—like the time he hit someone or how reckless he could be at times.
His dark past haunted him, making him impulsive. I knew what it felt like to carry guilt for things I hadn't done yet. Zane was asking for forgiveness for something that hadn't happened yet, driven by a love or obsession so profound it could lead him to destroy himself.
I had to do everything I could to bring him back to reason. V and Marco moved closer.
“Zane, please listen to me. If you go through with this, you could end up in jail.
It's not worth it. Stay with me, and we can overcome this together.
Do you remember what you said? Together, we can conquer the world.
Let's move to New York or wherever you want.
I'll be by your side. I'll marry you and have as many kids as you want.
We can travel, explore the world, make love on the beach, and create lifelong memories.
But please, don't do this. I'm begging you.” The last words tumbled out amidst the knot in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
Marco was beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation, and V understood too, and was in tears, clearly having overheard us. Marco paced, running his hands through his hair, visibly distressed.
Suddenly, Zane fell to his knees and let out a scream so powerful that it drew the attention of everyone around us. The anguish etched on his face was far more intense than the pain Andrea had inflicted on me. It shattered my heart.
I let him scream, hoping it would release his pent-up anger and lead him back to me. Zane’s greatest enemy was his own impulses, which could only usher in darkness. When he quieted, he rose and moved toward his car.
“Zane, no!” I shouted, but it was too late—he was inside. I couldn't let him leave, but I didn't have time to get into the passenger seat, so I jumped into the back. I saw Marco quickly sliding into his car, with V right behind him.
I clung to the hope that I could reach Zane and that Marco and V would stop him when they made it there. I hoped Andrea wouldn't be at the studio. I hoped and hoped.
Zane sped through traffic as if he were in a Formula One race. I moved from the back to the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt.
“Zane, please stop! I'm begging you! At least buckle up!” I cried, but he ignored me.
I tried to reach for the seatbelt, but he pushed my hand away.
I tried again and finally managed to buckle him in after a brief struggle.
I glanced back to see Marco trailing behind us, desperately trying to keep up.
“I'm sorry I didn't protect you, but I will make him pay,” Zane said, tears streaming down his face in desperation.
“Please, just stop! We can go to the police and tell my parents. He will go to jail and face consequences. Please…” I begged, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“It's not enough!” he barked, and I barely recognized him. I couldn't reach him—his mind was made up.
“Please, slow down! You're going to kill us both; you're going nearly 100 miles per hour!” I shouted, gripping his arm.
“You don't understand; I have to do this!” he replied, desperation lacing his voice.
“Why? Tell me why you have to do this!” I yelled back.
“Because I love you, dummy! I love you more than my own life!” he cried, turning his head to look at me with that last word. Just then, I caught sight of what lay ahead.
A full-frontal collision at the speed limit offered a 50% survival chance, but at 100 miles per hour, it was nearly zero.
This was it—our end. All that remained was a void of darkness.