Chapter Four
RONAN
Present Day
NEW YORK CITY
“What’s on your mind today, Ronan?”
The therapist’s office felt calm. Soft beige walls, sunlight through half-open blinds, and a hint of lavender in the air.
I sank into the plush armchair, leather creaking beneath me, eyes landing on the polished wooden desk.
Behind it, Dr. Yasmine Saad watched me, her dark eyes steady and warm, radiating quiet authority and effortless grace.
“Nina.”
Her name echoed in my mind like a haunting melody, each syllable a pang of regret and longing.
Five years had slipped through my fingers like sand since we were together.
I could still see her face as clearly as if she were standing before me now—the way her eyes held a mixture of hurt and anger, her lips trembling with words left unspoken.
The sound of her voice, cracking with emotion as she uttered those final, damning words.
“Don’t go.”
“Please, Ro.”
I thought time would dull the edges, but they had only grown sharper, etching themselves deeper into my soul.
How could she not hate me after what I did?
After the promises I broke and the dreams I shattered?
But despite the hatred I knew she felt, I couldn’t shake the hope that somewhere, buried beneath the pain and anger, a part of her still remembered the love we shared. A love that had been as fierce and consuming as a wildfire, burning bright and reckless until my foolishness snuffed it out.
Dr. Saad cleared her throat gently, bringing me back to the present. How could I put into words the ache of a heart that has never healed, the regret that gnaws at me like a beast?
“I always think about her, but it’s becoming more powerful now,” I finally admitted, my voice rough with emotion.
“Our most prevalent topic,” she observed softly, her voice carrying a slight trace of a comforting accent. “Last week we spoke on letting go an—”
“Excuse my frankness,” I interjected, fixing my shirt. “There’s no letting go of Nina. I thought of the idea, then dismissed it a millisecond later, Doc.”
“Holding onto someone can bring comfort,” she replied, her hands folded loosely in her lap.
I scoffed, a sardonic smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“It’s not a matter of comfort. Nina… she’s not some phase I need to move on from.
She’s… permanent.” I shrugged, a flicker of irritation crossing my face.
“Like the Empire State Building. You don’t decide one day it doesn’t belong in New York’s skyline. ”
“Then let me ask the better question,” she said. “What is it about Nina that occupies your mind so intensely after all these years?”
I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words amidst the torrent of memories and emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“She was… everything,” I began haltingly, my gaze drifting to a point beyond the therapist’s gentle scrutiny.
“She is everything. When we met, the world finally made sense. We were young, passionate… and so in love.”
Dr. Saad nodded, her expression encouraging. “And…?”
Talking about loss was easier than facing the heartbreak I had caused. The weight of my mistakes was unbearable—I sat there, drowning in regret, blaming the pain, but deep down, I knew it was me. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but in trying to protect her from my chaos, I only pushed her away.
“She hates me,” I confessed quietly, unable to meet Dr. Saad’s gaze. “And I can’t blame her.”
“What caused this topic to be so fresh in your mind? What recent event happened or is set to happen?” she asked, her brow furrowing with genuine concern.
“She has a fashion show coming up. I keep tabs on her to make sure she is happy, healthy, and safe.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, her lips parted slightly. “Tabs?”
“Yes, tabs. I watched her through everyone else’s eyes because I’m too much of a coward to do it on my own.
It’s been five years, and I can tell you every single milestone in her life, but between the grief, my career, and my life, I couldn’t go back to her.
” My voice cracked, and I clenched my fists to steady myself. “It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
Dr. Saad leaned forward slightly. “Have you ever considered reaching out to her? Exploring the possibility of reconciliation?”
The suggestion landed like a stone in the pond of my thoughts, sending ripples of uncertainty through me. “I… I don’t know if she would even want to hear from me.” My voice was thick with longing and doubt. “After how it all ended.”
She offered a sympathetic smile, her demeanor reassuring. “Sometimes, taking the first step is the hardest part,” she whispered. “But it’s often the only way to find closure and peace, for both yourself and for Nina.”
Her words resonated within me, stirring a glimmer of hope in the wreckage of my past mistakes. Perhaps, against all odds, there was still a chance to mend what I had broken, to heal the wounds I’ve inflicted.
“If only it were that easy,” I muttered, leaning back as an imminent headache approached.
“It’s never easy, but you need to ask yourself if it’s something you want and something you’ll be able to handle.”
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “I have to try.”
She sighed deeply, her gaze troubled. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t keep running from it forever.
Despite everything, you have managed to fight through and build your name after enduring many hardships.
You’re stronger than you think,” she mumbled, reaching out to grasp my hand. “You’ve survived so much already.”
I glanced at the clock and realized I had to be at my hospital in an hour.
“Thanks, Doc,” I said, grabbing my white coat.
“You’re welcome, Ronan. Take care, and I’ll see you next time for our session.”
“Next time,” I reiterated and left.
Reaching the parking lot, I unlocked the doors of my jet-black Rolls-Royce Droptail and slid into the driver’s seat, pressing Dillon’s contact and waiting for him to pick up.
Dillon Xander. My best friend for almost twenty years, though “friend” hardly covered it.
This was the man who knew all the darker, messier sides of me and never flinched.
Dillon was a force to be reckoned with in his own right: billionaire CEO of Xander Empire, with a presence as sharp and intimidating as his business acumen.
He ran the boardroom and the tabloids like a gladiator’s arena, and his world knew no room for weakness or hesitation.
If anyone could understand my pain, it’d be that asshole.
“What is it, Ronan?” he answered, exasperation clear in his tone.
“I’ve been calling you since midday.”
“I know,” he replied flatly. “I watched my phone ring.”
“Asshole,” I snarled under my breath.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, his tone a bit gentler than before.
“Do you believe in second chances?”
The line went silent, and I assumed he was thinking. “Depends on the situation,” he finally responded.
“Think about it.”
“Ronan,” he hissed, “You’re not serious. I thought you were over h—”
“My silence on the matter doesn’t mean I’m over her,” I interrupted, my voice thick with frustration. “I can’t be over her. But I’ve spent five fucking years watching her through everyone else’s eyes. I can’t live like this.”
“Five years?” he echoed, surprised.
“Yes. So, do you believe in second chances?”
“Do you think she will give it a second chance? I know her, and what happened between the two of you hasn’t had the best effect on either of you. But, by all means, if you think it’s a good idea, go for it.”
“Women are difficult,” I sputtered, deflecting.
“Think about the whole situation, Ronan, before you do anything drastic. If you need me, I’m here for you.”
“Didn’t you say you watched the phone ring when I called you?”
I could practically hear his eyes roll. “I was busy, alright? You know how it is.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, slight amusement lacing my tone.
The line went silent for a while, then he sighed.
“Just be careful,” he urged, his tone a blend of concern and compassion.
“You did what you thought was best. You lost everyone you relied on for guidance, so you protected her from the turmoil you were going through. She may never fully understand that, but don’t punish yourself for it.
On the other hand, Nina might not know what it’s like to lose your support system piece by piece, but she does know what it’s like to watch her whole world fall apart and then have to rebuild it, all on her own. ”
I took what he said into deep consideration, and he was right, but she deserved better.
The woman who stood by me through everything deserved better.
And that is what I would be—better.
“You’re right,” I admitted, “but I’ve gotta try.”
“It’s late. I’m headed to bed,” he said, his tone gentle. “You should also get some rest.”
“Lucky you. I’m headed to do hour thirty-seven of a twenty-hour shift,” I announced.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodnight, Ronan.”
“Night, Dillon,” I answered softly.