Chapter 9 #2
“And that’s bad?” she asks, her tone warm but serious, no teasing—like she already knows there’s more under the surface.
I let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through my hair.
“Yes, because it’s nothing like I expected,” I mutter. “I’ve tried talking to her twice since the club. At her hotel. At the restaurant. She’s been so… different. Indifferent. So finally, today…”
My voice hardens. “I cornered her at her office.”
David lets out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. He doesn’t speak right away—just rolls the glass between his fingers, eyes trained on the slow swirl of amber. Then he looks up, his gaze steady.
“Bold move, my friend.”
His tone is calm, but there’s a quiet gravity to it—like he’s weighing the cost, not just the intent. He doesn’t scold. Just watches me with that sharp, steady focus that sees more than I say.
“I didn’t see another way,” I mutter, gripping the glass tighter, the frustration knotting deep in my chest.
I let out a slow, bitter breath, staring down at the whiskey like it might offer absolution.
“I need to know what happened.”
The words scrape their way out, slow and jagged, each one costing more than I want to admit.
“She’s gone.” I say it flatly; no room left for denial.
“Her body’s there. Her face. Her voice. But everything else inside her?” I pause, swallowing hard.
“Gone.”
Silence settles over the room, thick but steady.
David leans back, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, that quiet patience of his like a steady anchor.
“You thought she’d be the same,” he says simply.
I let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp.
“I never thought I’d see her again,” I admit, the truth pouring out before I can stop it.
“I told myself I’d be angry. That I’d hate her for leaving… for living some carefree life back home.”
I pause, jaw clenched.
“And maybe… a part of me did.”
I glance between them—no mask this time, no walls left to hide behind.
“But the second I saw her again… everything else just burned away.”
I drag in a slow breath, the next words tasting bitter on my tongue, the ache rising in my chest.
“At the club… seeing her like that—” My hand tightens around the glass, the tension reflexive. “It wrecked me.”
My fists clench at my sides, tight and useless.
“I still don’t know how I didn’t tear that bastard apart right there. I wanted to kill him. Still do, if I’m honest”
The threat is low, half-whispered, but real. A bitter smile flickers at the edge of my mouth—not pride, just fury barely contained.
“But that’s not what’s haunting me,” I admit, softer now.
“It’s her. Her eyes.”
I glance at them, bracing myself for the words I can’t seem to shake.
“There’s nothing left in them. No spark. No light. Just… emptiness.”
My voice falters.
“It’s like she’s a shadow of herself. Like she’s locked herself away somewhere I can’t reach.”
Flor’s breath catches softly, her expression clouding with quiet sorrow, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“And when I kissed her,” I add, dragging a hand over my face, “yeah, I lost control. I was furious. I wanted to wipe that man’s touch off her. To mark her mine again.” I scoff under my breath. “Stupid. Impulsive. But for a second… just a second… I felt her again. The real her.”
I drag my hand down my face, exhausted by the truth.
“But now…” I swallow hard, the words weighing heavier than I expected. “Now I know something happened. Something she’s still hiding. Something big.”
David watches me steadily, that same calm, unwavering look—the one that’s seen me through every storm I’ve dragged myself into.
“Something big like what?” Flor asks, her voice quiet but curious, eyes fixed on mine.
“She told me about her mother,” I add, my voice softer now. “At the restaurant. Said she passed away from cancer. I didn’t know it had been that bad.”
David’s face softens, something tightening in his eyes.
“She adored her mother,” he says quietly. “That kind of loss can wreck a person.”
Flor’s face softens too, her eyes lingering on mine, understanding flickering there.
“But it’s not just grief,” I say, the words thick and hard to swallow. “I feel it in my gut. It’s deeper. It’s heavier.”
I hesitate, then say the thing that’s been haunting me most.
“She told me… she did call me.”
Both of them go still. They glance at each other, something silent passing between them.
“And that’s what’s been tearing you apart, isn’t it?” David asks, voice steady but firm.
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I never got that call.”
I stare down at the floor, the weight of it pressing into my chest like stone.
David leans forward slightly, his tone quieter but sharper now.
“What do you want, Dorian?”
I let out a breath, heavy and defeated.
“I want the truth,” I say, staring into my glass like it might hold the answers. Then I lift my gaze, meeting theirs. “And I want her back. My Della.”
I pause, the weight of those words sinking in.
“Maybe I don’t have the right to ask for that——not after what I did. But she is the woman I loved more than I even knew I could. I lived five years without air, without real sleep. Without the hope of ever seeing her again. And now that she is here, back in my life… I’m not letting her go.”
Flor’s voice is soft, but there’s a quiet strength beneath it. Steel under velvet.
“If you really want the truth… let her be the one to tell it.”
David’s voice is calm but cuts to the bone, steady and unyielding.
“And if you think cornering her is going to win her back… then you’ve already forgotten the kind of woman she was.”
He leans back, his words slow and deliberate.
“Don’t force this, Dorian. You can’t drag her out of wherever she’s been. You can’t pull someone out of the dark. They have to find their way out on their own. All you can do… is stay close enough to catch them if they fall.”
Flor nods, her voice gentle but resolute, eyes locked on mine.
“A woman who's been hurt doesn't need a rescuer, Dorian. She needs a safe harbor.”
She leans in slightly, her gaze unwavering.
“If you want her—really want her—then show her. Not through pressure or power. But by being there, patient and caring. Ready to carry whatever she’s been holding alone all this time. No matter how heavy it gets.”
Their words settle in the air, heavy but grounding—like a compass pointing me somewhere I’m not sure I’m brave enough to go.
But I know this much:
They’re right.
It’s just that time is not on my side.