Chapter 55 #2
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“Bullshit!” I shoved Henry’s chest, needing an outlet for the fury and pain threatening to consume me. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I wouldn’t stand for it. And because you can’t stop. You’re afraid I’ll take away the thing you’re addicted to.”
“I’m not addicted.”
“Sure. You’ve been taking them since April—just for a bit of fun.”
“I can stop anytime I want.”
“So why haven’t you?” My voice shook, and tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
“Why haven’t you already thrown them out?
You should have gotten rid of them the day I told you about my mum, at the very latest. I would have.
The fact that you didn’t can only mean two things: Either I’m not important enough to you—”
“You are important to me!”
“—or you’re addicted,” I finished, ignoring Henry’s interruption. My mum had loved me, but she’d still chosen drugs. Because her addiction hadn’t left her any other option.
Henry took a step towards me. This time, I didn’t flinch away. He raised a hand and tenderly wiped the tears from my cheek with his thumb—tears I was shedding because of him. His touch was a bittersweet torture.
“You mean the world to me, Kate,” he said quietly, almost reverently. His voice trembled. “Not telling you was a mistake. If I could, I’d turn back time and never take those pills from Marko. But I can’t. The only thing I can do is promise you that I’ll stop.”
My throat constricted. I wanted to believe him—but I couldn’t. Not anymore. If I hadn’t found the pills today, it could have been weeks, even months, before he told me about them. If he ever told me at all . . .
“I . . . I can’t do this.” The words barely made it past my lips.
Just yesterday, I couldn’t imagine living in a world without Henry.
Now that world was on fire, and he was the one who had set it ablaze.
If I didn’t put it out immediately, I’d burn with it.
I couldn’t bear this pain a second time, and above all, I couldn’t watch Henry slowly lose himself to his addiction.
He blinked. “What can’t you do?”
“I can’t do this again,” I said, taking a step back.
It was only a small step, but it cost me more strength than running a marathon.
His hand slipped from my cheek, leaving a cold ache in my chest. It had probably been our last touch.
I couldn’t stand by and watch him head for the same abyss as the one that had taken my mum.
As much as I loved him—and yes, I did love him—in this moment, I had to love myself more.
Maybe things would have been different if he had confided in me, if he had asked for my help.
But he hadn’t. And that left me no choice.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “For everything you’ve done for me. For your kindness and affection, and all the chances you gave me. But . . . I think it’s best if I leave now.”
The colour drained from Henry’s face. He reached out as if to stop me, to hold on to me, but when he saw the silent plea in my eyes, he dropped his hand.
“Kate, please.” His voice was raw, barely louder than a whisper. I had never heard him sound so vulnerable. “Don’t go. We’ll find a way.”
“I have to,” I said with a sad smile.
“I’ll stop. I promise. Look!” Henry marched past me to the bathroom. He flipped the toilet seat up with such force that it slammed against the tiles, and then he dumped the contents of the pillbox into the bowl. He flushed the toilet. “See? All gone!”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I wanted nothing more than to believe him, but I couldn’t—not after he’d lied to me for so long.
Not with words, but with his silence. Besides, I’d hidden and thrown out my mum’s drugs dozens of times, and nothing had ever changed.
Henry could easily get more pills whenever he wanted and keep it from me.
The thought of being betrayed like this again was unbearable.
But even worse was the thought of watching him destroy himself.
I shook my head. “It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is.” He was lying to himself now too.
“If it were, you wouldn’t have been taking that stuff for months,” I said, my voice and heart breaking.
A heavy silence fell over the room. He knew I was right. I could see it in his eyes, which were just as heartbroken as they were beautiful.
I took a step back. Then another, and another. My gaze swept over Henry one last time, trying to memorise every detail of his handsome, despairing face. I wanted to remember him—and the most wonderful weeks of my life—forever.
“Look after yourself, Snowflake,” I whispered before turning my back on him.
My rage had long since faded, leaving only sorrow, pain, and confusion in its wake.
It wasn’t Richard and Amanda, or the rest of British high society, or even Randell who had stolen my future with Henry.
It was Henry himself. A part of me still hoped he would say something, that he’d find the right words to make me stay.
But I had no idea what those words could be.
He hadn’t just broken my heart; he had shattered something far more precious. My trust.