Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
-Thalia-
The silence that envelops us is almost suffocating, a heavy blanket draping over the moment.
My wrists, once bound and confined, are now free, yet my body remains slumped against the sheets.
The belt, a tool of our weighty affections, now lies discarded on the floor, but its lingering ghost leaves an indelible mark on my skin, a reminder of the journey I’ve traversed and the trust I’ve placed in this man beside me.
Xander is still and tense, refraining from making contact.
It’s as if he fears that he has crossed an invisible line and taken too much from me.
I can see the rise and fall of his chest, heavy with unsaid thoughts and emotions.
I turn my head to face him, brushing the damp strands of hair from my forehead, a shy smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I whisper, breaking the heavy silence that surrounds us. “I needed that.”
His eyes flicker, stormy and filled with uncertainty, revealing the hidden anguish lurking beneath his calm exterior.
“I don’t ever want to be him to you. I don’t want you to look at me and see—”
I don’t let him finish. I press my fingers gently against his lips, silencing his fears.
“You’re not him. You never could be. You asked me. You checked on me. You made sure I was safe even when you were rough. That’s the difference.”
Six weeks from now, I’ll sit across from my therapist and tell her about this night.
She’ll ask what made it different.
And I’ll say he didn’t take. He asked.
He didn’t demand control. He offered it.
He didn’t treat me like something owed. He treated me like something chosen.
Healing doesn’t erase the past.
But sometimes, it rewrites the ending.
My throat tightens, the weight of my confession heavy in the air, but I push through, forcing the words out despite the tightness in my chest. “I chose you. Every second.”
Sometimes I forget that consent can feel like power. I never had that with Damian. Every touch was a theft, something taken and carved out of me. With Xander, every touch is a transaction—offered, received, returned. The difference is enough to undo me.
Tears shimmer in my eyes, but this time, they are not born of fear; they are tears of release, of relief. I curl against him, and finally, I feel his strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close, grounding me in the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.
“He lived in your head,” he says quietly.
I blink, startled. He really sees me.
“And now I’m terrified I’ll take his place.”
He’s not talking about sex.
He’s talking about dominance. Possession. Shadows.
“You don’t replace him,” I whisper. “You protect me from him.”
His breathing is heavy, too careful, like he’s afraid of taking up space.
I can almost see the storm behind his ribs, the what-ifs gnawing at him.
‘What if I scared her? What if I ruined her? What if I became him?’ He doesn’t say those words aloud, but he doesn’t need to. They hang in the air like smoke.
-Xander-
In this moment, the strength she sees in me is a facade.
Beneath the surface, I am terrified and trembling.
When I had her tied there, witnessing the way she arched towards me, surrendering every piece of herself into my hands, I was gripped by arousal, but fear always lingered.
Fear of crossing a line, fear of seeing even a hint of terror in her eyes and knowing that I had caused it.
My hand glides gently through her hair as she breathes against my chest, her breaths deepening and calming now, the tension of the past days fading away.
I understand this isn’t about rage or proving who’s stronger; it’s about offering her the space to let go, to lay down the burdens she shouldn’t have to carry alone.
“I love you,” I murmur softly into her hair, hoping my voice carries the weight of my sincerity. “Every part of you. The broken parts, the strong parts, even the parts you hide from everyone else. All of it.”
She tilts her head back to meet my eyes, her gaze glossy yet steadfast; there’s a strength in her that I admire.
“Then keep reminding me. Because sometimes I forget.”
I press a tender kiss to her forehead, feeling the warmth spread between us as I hold her tighter in my embrace.
“I’ll remind you every damn day if I have to,” I promise, feeling the resolve solidify within me.
-Thalia-
Today, the atmosphere of the apartment feels lighter, more vibrant, all thanks to Isla. She’s settled comfortably on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee balanced in her hand. Bella and Bailey lie curled at her feet, their bodies relaxed and content, as if claiming her presence as their own.
“You’re spoiled,” she teases, glancing over at me with mischievous eyes. “And so is Bella.” I can’t help but laugh as I plop down on the opposite end of the couch, cradling my warm mug of tea between my hands.
“You say that like you don’t love it. Besides, she knows who her favorite aunt is.”
Isla smirks, her confidence shining brightly.
“Obviously. I’m the fun one.” Bella and Bailey wag their tails in agreement, and for a blissful moment, the whole apartment feels like an oasis of simplicity.
There are no shadows lurking outside my window, no burdens pressing down on my chest. We’re two friends, accompanied by the comforting hum of caffeine and the delightful chaos of pets vying for affection.
Leaning back, Isla stretches her limbs, her movement effortless and fluid. “How are you? Really? Not the ‘I’m fine’ answer.”
I take my time, savoring a slow sip of my tea as I watch the steam rise and twist in the air. “Better,” I confess, my voice softer than anticipated. “Not fixed. Not… healed. But better. Therapy helps. Xander helps. And days like this are the most therapeutic of all.”
Her smile softens, becoming more compassionate as she watches me. “You don’t have to be okay all at once.”
She’s right. Healing isn’t a straight line; it’s a maze. Some days, I feel like I’m sprinting toward the exit. Other days, I circle the same corner and end up where I started. But today? Today feels like progress.
“Just… keep breathing. One day at a time. You’ve got people who love you. And furballs who’d probably riot if you didn’t come home.”
Her words strike a deeper chord than I expected, filling me with warmth and gratitude. Tears well up in my eyes, surprising me, but I blink them away quickly and nudge her playfully with my foot. “You’re too good to me.”
“Damn right,” she replies with a teasing grin, the light returning to her eyes.
Bella and Bailey settle deeper into sleep, lulled by the comforting energy in the room.
For a few blissful hours, the world outside fades away, leaving only laughter, love, and the unwavering reminder that I am not alone.
-Isla-
Thalia doesn’t see how every time she smiles, a shadow still lingers behind her eyes, whispering of the burdens she carries.
She doesn’t realize her body still reacts before her brain does, how the click of a door latch makes her shoulders tense, how she scans every parking lot before stepping into it.
Trauma teaches the body to remember, even when the mind tries to forget.
I watch her feed the dogs, her movements practiced and slow, like she’s relearning the steps. She pauses sometimes, hands on her knees, breathing through invisible battles.
I wish I could take it from her. But I can’t.
So, I stay.
She’s oblivious to the way her fingers grip her mug with an intensity that suggests she’s bracing against a storm or how her laughter arrives a heartbeat late, as though she has to remind herself to let it out.
Her gaze flits toward the door every so often, a movement that speaks more than words ever could, an unconscious preparation for something lurking on the other side.
But I see it. I’ve always seen it, and I can’t look away.
I sink into her worn couch, and my eyes follow Thalia as she absently strokes Bella’s ear.
She believes her facade is seamless, that she has cloaked her pain beneath layers of forced cheerfulness, but I know better.
Trauma is not a ghost that simply fades away; it weaves itself into the very fabric of our being, etching its presence into our movements, haunting our moments of silence.
“You’re doing better,” I tell her. It’s the truth. There’s a hint of vibrancy in her cheeks now, a rosy tint that hadn’t been there weeks ago. She no longer looks like she’s drowning with every breath, struggling to keep her head above water. “But don’t you dare think you have to be perfect.”
A smirk pulls at her lips, her eyes sparkling just a touch with unshed tears. “You always know what to say.”
That’s because I’ve had practice. I’ve witnessed the fragments of her soul laid bare, bleeding in ways that no simple bandage could ever mend.
And I know I’ll witness it all again, because that’s what friendship demands.
You stay. You stay even when the world feels heavy, especially when the ugly truths begin to show.
Bella sighs heavily, flopping onto the rug with a soft thump. I shift closer, my shoulder brushing against hers, signaling to her that I’m here and unshakeable.
“You know, Xander’s a good one,” I remark, a teasing smile creeping onto my face, “but don’t forget that I was here first. You’ll never scare me off.”
For a fleeting moment, her lips tremble, and I wonder if I’m about to see her the way I’ve seen her before, cracked and vulnerable. Instead, a soft, shaky laugh spills from her, a sound that feels like a release.
“You’re stuck with me forever, huh?”
“Exactly,” I reply, swinging my arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. I don’t tell her about the rage that coils in my stomach at the thought of Damian. Rage that surprises even me.
I’m not violent.
But I understand violence now.
Maybe that’s what love does; it reshapes you into whatever weapon is needed.
If he comes back, I won’t scream.
I’ll bite.