Chapter 28 #2
If I tell him someone threatened me, he will burn the world down to the foundation. And I don’t know if I could watch him lose himself that way, becoming a monster to protect me from mine.
That terrifies me more than Damian ever could.
But deep down, an undeniable truth lingers—Damian hasn’t forgotten me. He never will.
The secret weighs heavily in my chest, a stone that feels ever more suffocating with each passing moment.
Every time my phone buzzes, I feel its weight, and the words echo in my mind.
‘You look better in black.’ The post. The haunting reference to the red skirt.
It gnaws at me relentlessly, night and day.
But I bury it deep, donning a mask of normalcy.
I laugh with Xander, kiss him goodnight, and allow myself to be held close, even as a shadow hangs over me.
I convince myself that I’m shielding him, preserving our connection from the burden of my fear, where he might spiral into obsession or, worse, throw himself into perilous dangers just to keep me safe.
In truth, perhaps I’m trying to shield myself, too.
Because once I voice my fears, they transform from whispers in the dark to stark light that can’t be ignored.
But the truth won’t remain hidden forever.
One evening, the dam breaks. I flinch at the sudden buzz of my phone, watching it vibrate across the table, and scramble to shove it away as if I’m a child caught in wrongdoing. Xander’s voice sharpens as he asks, “What was that, Thalia?”
A paralyzing fear grips me, and I freeze.
My throat tightens, suppressing the words that threaten to spill.
I could lie, but those piercing eyes of his feel like knives, cutting through my defenses.
So, I exhale, the confession tumbling forth like water from a cracked vessel.
The messages, the post, the skirt—every haunting word spills from my lips in a rush.
The atmosphere shifts like a storm, tension crackling in the air. His face contorts, fury igniting every feature. He shouts, not at me, but the volume and sharpness of his anger feel like physical blows, leaving me reeling.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? After everything? After I promised I’d protect you, and after you swore you trusted me, why would you keep this from me?”
-Xander-
I don’t yell because I’m angry at her.
I yell because I’m terrified of losing her.
Every nightmare ends with her gone.
Every fear ends with me too late.
-Thalia-
I stumble back, a visceral panic clawing at my heart. My voice trembles as I whisper, “I— I didn’t want to make it worse. I didn’t want to—”
“Worse?” he snarls, stepping closer, overwhelming me. Xander stops breathing. “You think telling me the truth makes things worse?”
I wrap my arms around myself. “Sometimes protecting someone means protecting them from what you’re afraid of.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No. Protecting someone means sharing the weight. Do you even comprehend what could happen? What still could happen?”
In that frightening instant, I feel a flicker of fear.
Not of Xander, my steadfast protector, the one who holds and kisses me, making me his world, but of the man standing before me, enraged, capable of demolishing everything in his path.
I must look terrified, because as if sensing my fear, his eyes widen, and the fire within him begins to dim.
“Shit,” he utters, his voice cracking under realization. He takes a step back, hands lifting in a placating gesture, as if to show he is unarmed. “Thalia. Baby. I— God, no. No. I would never. Not to you.”
I’ve never seen him look afraid before.
Not scared of danger.
Scared of himself.
His voice softens. “Hurting you would end me.”
My knees weaken. Not because of the words, but because I believe him.
Tears cascade down my face unbidden, a torrent I can’t contain.
He crosses the space between us cautiously, as if I’m a wounded animal he’s afraid to scare.
His hands hover uncertainly before finally settling on my shoulders, pulling me gently into his embrace.
I can feel him trembling, my steady rock, shaken to his core.
My hands grip his shirt like an anchor. My tears soak through the cotton, proof I’m still human, still breakable.
But for the first time, breaking feels safe.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly into my hair, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m so damn sorry. I just— Fuck, I thought we had this. I thought you trusted me enough to share everything. And I lost it. I should have never yelled. I’ll never scare you like that again.”
Trust doesn’t return in a flood. It returns in drops. And I feel the first one.
He presses his forehead to mine. “You don’t have to carry anything alone. Not anymore.” Xander cups the side of my face. “We don’t have to be perfect.”
“I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be safe.”
“You are safe,” he says gently.
But safety isn’t a location.
It’s a person.
I cling to his shirt, burying my face in his chest as my sobs wrack my body.
I know he means every word; his sincerity is palpable.
But the fragile crack remains, a delicate reminder that even the fiercest love can burn too hot, leaving scars we must navigate together.
Healing isn’t a destination. It’s a choice, over and over.
I survived him. I chose me. I choose us.
Later, when he falls asleep beside me, I stare at the ceiling in the dark.
I survived.
But surviving and living aren’t the same.
Xander shifts closer, pulling me against him even in unconsciousness. His arm wraps around my waist like a promise.
Maybe love isn’t a sanctuary or a shield.
Maybe love is the courage to stay.