Chapter 12 #2
He watched my face every time he finished a story, waiting for one of those memories to reach me. Waiting for the smallest sign that somewhere beneath the distance, the woman who had once lived all those moments with him was still there.
I gave him nothing.
He even took me to a pottery studio where the owners greeted us by name before asking where we’d been for the past few months. I left Cassian to stumble through that conversation on his own, watching with barely concealed amusement as he scrambled for an answer that wouldn’t raise more questions.
The places were lovely. The activities were fun. The company was exhausting.
Every conversation began with, “Do you remember when…?” or “Does this ring any bells?” It was a relentless, hopeful inquisition that always ended with my same, flat “no.”
I looked into his eyes now. That same fragile, foolish hope was still there. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You can go without me. I’m sure they’ll still let you in.”
His head fell again, his shoulders sagging with defeat. A few breaths later, he surged to his feet and paced the room before stopping in front of me, his chest rising and falling heavily.
“You’re done? Just a week and you’re finished with me?
” His laugh came out thin and bitter, dying on his lips.
“You can still do more. You can still keep taking your little acts of revenge on me, Alessia. Did you run out of ideas? I can give you more if you want.” He started patting his pockets, searching for his phone.
“I’m sure we can find a list online if we search together. ”
I frowned, watching him unravel. “What are you doing?”
He froze.
“Why are you doing all this?” I pressed, unable to make sense of him. “Why do you want to stay in this marriage so badly? You don’t even love me.”
He was the most confusing man I had ever met.
On one hand, he didn’t love me. He hadn’t even respected me enough to let me into the hardest parts of his life, choosing to shut me out.
On the other, he stood in front of me looking utterly miserable, clinging to our marriage with everything he had and refusing to sign the divorce papers, no matter how many times I told him we were finished.
I couldn’t understand him at all.
How could a man who didn’t love me be so terrified of losing me?
Does he have abandonment issues or something?
Cassian looked tormented, every line of his face pulled taut beneath the weight of what he was trying to say. His lips parted, but nothing came out.
“I—I…” The word faltered on the way out. He shut his eyes, his brow drawing tight as he fought for the rest of the sentence. His jaw clenched hard, his face twisting with the effort to say what he needed to say, but the words refused to come.
“Alessia…” My name left him in a ragged murmur, heavy with shame and pain. He dragged in a breath, but it hitched inside his chest, his lungs refusing to give him what he needed. One hand clamped over his heart, fingers curling into his shirt until the fabric bunched beneath his grip.
“I…” His head dipped, shoulders drawing inward while he fought for air. His breathing came in broken pulls, each one shorter than the last. He pressed his palm harder against his chest, his fingers trembling against the frantic beat beneath them.
His eyes squeezed shut, his entire face twisting with the effort to hold himself together. When they opened again, fear stared back at me, deep and helpless.
I tilted my head, studying him. “Is this one of those strokes again? You really should get that checked out.”
But he didn’t snap back. His breath kept catching, his fingers rubbing hard against his sternum as he fought for words. His hands trembled, his lips parting and closing, each failed attempt leaving him more visibly lost than the last.
Oh, shit. Is he actually having a stroke?
My heart lurched. I was on my feet in an instant, every trace of coldness forgotten. My hands closed around his shoulders, feeling the violent tremor running through him.
“Hey. Hey, look at me.” I kept my grip firm, my fingers tightening against the fabric beneath them. “Come on. Stay with me.”
I guided him toward the couch, easing him down as terror widened his eyes. He searched my face, his lips moving around words he couldn’t force out.
I caught his hand and replaced it with my own, pressing my palm against his chest. His heart was pounding beneath it, hard and fast enough to make my own chest tighten.
“Stop trying to talk,” I urged, my fingers pressing more firmly against him.
“You don’t have to explain anything. Just breathe. Follow me, okay? Just breathe.”
I drew in a deep breath, letting my lungs fill fully, held it for a brief count, and released it in a long exhale.
His fingers curled around my wrist. Still trembling, brows drawn tight, he fought against whatever was happening inside him. I repeated the breath, giving him nothing else to focus on.
He drew in a shaky breath, his chest jolting beneath my hand. It came out uneven, but he tried again. I breathed with him, keeping my hand against his chest until each breath grew deeper and easier.
“That’s it,” I murmured, rubbing my thumb gently over his shoulder. “Stay here with me. In and out. You can do that. Just follow me.”
Little by little, the tension in his face loosened, and he stopped fighting for words. His fingers stayed locked around mine, holding on with everything he had.
I moved to get him water, but his hand tightened around my wrist, panic flashing across his face.
“Where are you going?” he asked, the words strained and uneven, carrying a fear he couldn’t conceal.
“To get you water.” I tried to ease my wrist free, but he held on, his grip refusing to loosen.
“I don’t need it.” His fingers trembled against my skin. “Just… please don’t leave.”
The plea caught at my chest. I looked at him, taking in the tension drawn across his shoulders and the helplessness in his expression, and slowly nodded.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m staying.”