Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
NOAH (PRESENT)
I hadn’t been able to help myself and had her one more time before we thoroughly cleaned ourselves in the shower.
We were currently in bed, sitting in a perfectly peaceful quiet as Amalia half lay on top of me with my arm around her waist and resting against her lower back under her shirt. She had one arm folded over my chest, her cheek resting on top. Her eyes were watching her other hand as it traced idle circles along my front.
If I could stop time and stay in this snapshot of a moment for the rest of my life, I would do it in a heartbeat.
I reached and tucked a wet strand of her hair that had fallen over her forehead behind her ear. Then my hands skimmed behind her body, my palms splaying on her back to bring her closer.
“I never stopped thinking about you,” I confessed in the quiet air.
She let out a breathy laugh. “I wish I could say I didn’t think about you, but I’d be lying. No matter how many times I tried, you were always there at the back of my mind.”
I knew her words weren’t meant to hurt me, but guilt instantly washed over me at the fact that I’d played a major part in us being apart for so long.
I’d always regretted not having been able to do something before it felt too late to try. I’d then ended up falling into complacency because I’d thought it’d be easier for her to live without me and be angry than be with me and all my scars.
Realistically, I knew being perfect wasn’t an achievable goal, no matter how many times my father had tried to beat it into me. But when I’d been faced with my demons after the loss of my mother, coming out on the other side had appeared to be a lot more difficult than I’d imagined.
I’d always felt like my brain wasn’t my own, but after my grief dragged on for months, I’d sought help for the first time in my life and was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and complex post-traumatic disorder.
I’d masked my pain for so long because mental health simply wasn’t something we talked about where I was from and the environment I’d grown up in.
I’d been taught to hide any of my feelings but especially the negative ones. It’d been ingrained in me to push them aside and keep going because doing otherwise made me inadequate.
Being sad or losing interest in things wasn’t normal. It was shelved as me being lazy. Feeling wasn’t seen as a strength. It was a weakness. Barreras didn’t have weaknesses as my father had always loved to remind me.
And I’d unfortunately found a way to be the best at keeping my feelings in to avoid his wrath. But the moment the news of my mother’s death broke, it acted as a dam over years of repressed emotions and worsened my condition.
I’d eventually learned to live with both and found a regimen that worked for me, which meant that the darkness that used to constantly loom over my head wasn’t as frightening anymore.
But finding something that worked didn’t mean I’d magically been healed and was fine to go on with life like nothing had ever happened. It just felt like when I was faced with it, I could handle it and not retreat into old habits of pushing it away and acting like everything was fine.
Because I’d realized after several sessions with my therapist that I hadn’t been okay for a very long time.
“Hey, where did you go?” she whispered, her fingers brushing against my stubble.
My gaze met hers and hesitated for a moment. I brushed a thumb over her cheek and finally readied myself to finally tell her what I’d wanted to all these years ago when I came back looking for her.
“I’m sorry I left. I just… When my mother died, I felt like I was drowning and I didn’t know how to… survive.” The last word came out barely above a whisper.
I thought back to the time when I’d been at my lowest. Despite everything I’d been through during my childhood, my mother had always been a constant, there to guide me through it all. But when she died, so did the balance that kept me from faltering.
Her loss had made me unsteady.
My father’s voice had always been at the back of my mind, reminding me that I wasn’t worthy. That I wouldn’t amount to anything because I was weak.
The list went on and on, but my mother’s presence had always dulled the voices to a quiet hum instead of the constant blare they’d used to be.
She’d shaped how I saw myself and with her gone, I’d been left with endless questions of whether I was truly my own or that I’d tricked myself into thinking I was because my mother had constantly told me so.
“I didn’t know how to navigate her loss. She meant a lot to me, more than I could even put into words and losing her so … unexpectedly sent me into a really bad place. She’d never even told me about her cancer or given me a chance to be there for her or say goodbye.”
I paused, taking a deep breath before I continued.
“I wanted to talk to you, I really did, but I thought it’d just be easier not to burden you with what I was going through, what I was about to go through.”
Amalia brushed her fingertips over my cheeks before reaching for my locks and brushing them back. Her gaze hadn’t left mine the entire time, and she looked at me with so much… I didn’t even know how to describe it except that it made me feel listened to and not pitied.
“That’s why you left,” she mused, but her tone wasn’t accusatory. Instead, it felt filled with understanding of why I had, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Her fingertips grazed the contours of my face as if she knew I needed the physical comfort of her touch. “It doesn’t erase the anger and hurt I felt for years toward you for leaving, but I understand it a bit better now. I see you better now.”
I took a shuddering breath.
I’d never allowed myself to dream much growing up, but deep down, I’d always wished to find someone with whom I could be there and just… be. I didn’t have to provide them with something or be someone.
I’d found exactly that the moment Amalia had stepped into my life. I might have realized it too late and after I’d fucked things up, but having her in my arms right now felt overwhelming.
What did I ever do to deserve her?
Emotions I’d buried deep surfaced and my throat grew tight.
She must have seen the change in my expression because her fingers trailed to my chin.
“Come here,” she said gently before pulling me to her and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. She pulled away after a few seconds before giving three more chaste kisses, each one a direct line to my heart, making it stutter every time her soft lips brushed mine.
I fucking loved this girl.
I see you better now.
Her earlier words slowly loosened the vice grip that had been squeezing around my chest for the last decade.
I’d never told her about my father because it terrified me that she might look at me differently, that she might think I was too much and abandon me, which had been another reason why, despite how much it pained me to leave her, it was a little easier to do the leaving than to be left.
But her understanding made me confess the rest of my story because I wanted her to truly see everything about me.
I just had to hope I was still enough.
Her eyes were still on me, her fingertips having resumed randomly tracing lines and shapes on my chest.
I pulled my gaze away from hers, focusing my attention on what she was doing because nerves rattled my heart, making its beat hitch up to a dangerous zone.
Silence stretched between us, but she wasn’t forcing me to speak up. She just let me take my time, however long that was.
Finally, I swallowed and started to explain everything I hadn’t felt ready to tell her before.
“My father didn’t like me very much growing up. He…” I paused, clearing my throat. “He didn’t think I was worthy to be his heir. He felt like I had too many emotions for a job that required you to have none. He used to tell me that he would have preferred my mother to never have had me because at least that would have been better than having to raise someone like me.”
Amalia stopped her movements and I could feel her gaze boring into me, but I couldn’t look at her just yet or I would never finish telling her everything.
“My father would have undoubtedly preferred me succumbing to one of his beatings or weeks-long stays in the basement cell than be associated with him. I mean, he did eventually try to have me killed because I’d survived everything else he’d put me through despite his best efforts.”
Amalia’s body stiffened against mine at my last words.
“Good thing my mom came in just as one of my father’s henchmen was about to slice my throat open.” A self-pitying laugh escaped me as I shook my head. “If she’d arrived a second later, my father’s wishes would have come true.”
In the past, I used to wonder if it would have been easier if his wish had come true. I’d used to think that maybe the wretched memories that coated my soul like a second skin wouldn’t be painful anymore and I’d be granted some peace.
No one ever prepared you to receive the hate of another person, especially when that person was your own flesh and blood. I’d never understood what I’d done to garner such hatred from him, from my own father.
But then I learned that I wasn’t the problem.
He was.
His anger wasn’t rooted in something I’d done or who I was, but was a reflection of sick demons he harbored and I wasn’t responsible for that.
It took me a long time to recognize it, but just because you realized something, didn’t mean you believed it. It would take a lot more than therapy sessions for me to eventually heal, but everything needed a start.
“My mom got us away the night he tried to have me killed, with my uncle Reda’s help. They kept me hidden for years until we moved back to the country under the Bureau’s protection. The rest is history.”
I sighed, feeling slightly relieved. Telling someone, telling her , alleviated a little of the weight I’d always carried.
Sharing my past with someone I loved felt… freeing in some way.
Amalia’s right hand moved to rest against my heart. I brought my own hand up and placed it above hers. My thumb brushed over her knuckles, briefly bringing our joined hands to my lips to kiss her fingers before placing it back where it was, right where it belonged.
I hope she knows it’s all hers.
I could sense her eyes were on me, but I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her and she didn’t push me to. I already was in love with her and didn’t think it would be possible to love her more, but the space she was giving me to do whatever I felt comfortable with made me fall for her just a little harder.
My stomach was in knots, waiting for what she’d say, and when I finally mustered the courage to look at her, she wasn’t looking at me.
Instead, her gaze was fixed on my neck.
My heart was beating out of my chest when one of her fingers traveled toward the base of my neck. I shuddered when the pads of her fingertips briefly grazed against the large scar there before she pressed her lips to it in a gentle kiss.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered against my skin and I closed my eyes briefly before opening them again, letting out a deep breath.
She pulled herself higher onto my chest and took my face in her hands with such gentleness, my heart tightened at the gesture. She simply gazed at me for a moment, with so much adoration despite the anguish she was hiding underneath from my revelations.
“Just because your father didn’t believe it, doesn’t mean you weren’t worthy of love because you needed to be without fault. He was wrong. Being loved isn’t about being perfect or should ever be conditional. Being loved is about accepting the other person in their entirety and loving every piece of them.”
She brought my forehead to hers and briefly kissed me before continuing. “I love you, Noah. I love you because of you. I love every part, no matter how much you may think it’s too damaged or too broken.”
The way she looked at me was almost too painful. This beautiful human was all mine.
I leaned in to kiss her and tell her I loved her just as equally, if not more, when she spoke again. “Besides, your dad’s an asshole, so fuck his opinion.”
For a moment, I looked at her wide-eyed at her unexpected remark before a sound I hadn’t heard in a very long time boomed around us.
I laughed.
I laughed and this time it was genuine.
It came deep from within my chest and I felt a sudden rush of warmth spread across my limbs.
I was laughing and it felt freeing.
Amalia’s laughter bubbled up, the sound of our laughter mingling in the room.
My laughter faded and when she leaned in to kiss me, I basked in the happiness I felt with her in my arms and the feeling that we’d be all right.
I had my girl back and no matter what obstacles we’d go through, I knew deep down we’d overcome them and make it work.