Chapter 48
The walks home had changed.
I no longer walked fast to get away from him. I didn't pretend to check my phone or cross the street or disappear into the crowd. I just walked, and he walked beside me. Not touching. Not talking, most nights. Just there.
His presence had become something I counted on, like the sunrise or my morning coffee or the tulips on my desk. I didn't know when that had happened. I didn't know when I had stopped being afraid of him and started feeling safe instead. But I had.
It was a Thursday when Oliver found me.
I had stayed late to finish a report, and the office was mostly empty by the time I packed my bag. The hallways were quiet, the lights dimmed, and I was so focused on the spreadsheet in my hand that I didn't see him until he was standing right in front of me.
"Elera."
I stopped and looked up.
Oliver looked different. Thinner, maybe. Tired. His hair was messier than he used to wear it, and there were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before. He was wearing the watch, the Cartier, the one I had saved months for.
I felt nothing.
"What do you want, Oliver?"
He shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked uncomfortable, nervous, like he was about to give a presentation he hadn't prepared for.
"I wanted to talk to you. Just for a minute."
"I don't have anything to say to you."
"I know." He swallowed. "But I have things to say to you, and I need you to hear them. Please."
I should have walked away. I should have told him I wasn't interested and kept moving. But something in his voice stopped me, something raw, almost desperate.
I crossed my arms. "You have one minute."
He took a breath, then another.
"I was wrong," he said. "About everything. About you. About us. About the way I treated you."
I didn't say anything.
"I thought I was happy with Anne. At first, I thought she was exciting and spontaneous and everything you weren't. But she's not. She's exhausting and demanding, and she's never satisfied with anything I do. She makes sure I know it every single day."
I raised an eyebrow. "You came here to complain about your girlfriend?"
"No." He ran a hand through his hair. "I came here to tell you that I made a mistake, the biggest mistake of my life. And I'm sorry."
I stared at him. Three years ago, I would have cried hearing those words. A year ago, I would have felt a flicker of satisfaction. But now, standing in the dim hallway of my office building with the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me, I felt nothing.
"You were good to me," he continued, his voice softer now. "You were patient and kind and understanding. You never demanded anything. You just loved me. And I was too stupid to see it. I thought I wanted more. I thought I deserved more. But I didn't. I had everything I needed, and I threw it away."
He looked at me, and his eyes were wet.
"I'm not asking you to take me back. I know I don't deserve that. I just wanted you to know that I know. That I see it now. What I lost."
I let the silence stretch between us. I thought about the years I had given him, the money I had saved, the watch on his wrist, the way he had looked at me on the terrace when he said nobody would want me.
"I hope you find what you're looking for, Oliver," I said quietly. "But it's not me. It was never me. It was the idea of me, the version of me that made you feel good about yourself. And when that wasn't enough anymore, you threw me away too."
He flinched.
"I'm not angry anymore," I continued. "I'm not sad. I'm just done. I've moved on, and I think it's time you did too."
I stepped around him and started walking.
"Elera."
I didn't stop.
"Elera, please."
I kept walking. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside. He was standing at the end of the hallway, watching me, his hands at his sides, his face pale.
I didn't wave. I didn't smile. I just let the doors close between us.
Caspian was waiting by the road, his eyes fixed on Oliver's retreating figure. His jaw was tight, his hands white on the steering wheel. He looked like a man who had just talked himself out of doing something violent.
"Get in," he said.
"I can walk."
"Get in, Elera."
I got in.
He didn't ask what Oliver had wanted. He didn't ask if I was okay. He just started driving, his eyes on the road, his jaw still tight.
I watched him from the corner of my eye. The way his thumb tapped against the wheel, the way his shoulders were rigid with tension, the way he kept glancing at me like he was making sure I was still there.
"He apologized," I said finally.
Caspian said nothing.
"He said he made a mistake. That Anne isn't what he thought. That he was happy with me."
His grip on the wheel tightened.
"I told him no."
The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, just enough for me to notice.
"I'm not going back to him," I said. "I'm not going back to anyone."
He nodded slowly. "Good."
We drove the rest of the way in silence. But it wasn't the heavy silence of before. It was something softer, something that felt like trust.
When he stopped in front of my building, I didn't get out right away. I sat there with my hands in my lap and looked at him.
"Thank you," I said. "For not asking."
He turned to look at me. His eyes were dark and tired, but there was something else there too, something that looked like relief.
"I trust you," he said.
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I opened the door and stepped out. He didn't follow. He just sat there, watching me walk to the entrance, making sure I got inside safe.
I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I knew he was there.