George’s gaze flickers between us, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Ah, your mother mentioned you’re with him now. How… interesting.” he says, his tone dripping with condescension.
My breath catches, anger and pain mingling inside me. “Yes. We’re together.”
George scoffs, his lip curling. “So what — he’sthe onenow, is he? That’s the little fantasy you’ve settled on?”
He exhales a thin, humorless laugh. “You actually believe thiswill last? That he won’t simply wake up one morning and realise what a dreadful mistake he’s made?”
The words hit like a slap, sharp and cruel. But Elijah doesn’t hesitate. His voice cuts through the air—calm, but blazing with conviction.
“No,” Elijah says, calm but burning. “You never saw her. Not really. You only ever saw what you wanted to see — your own empty reflection. I see her — every messy, brilliant piece. I’m going to spend my life proving that to her, every single day, making sure she knows how incredible she is.”
His voice doesn’t rise, but it rings out like a vow—unshakable, undeniable. A force strong enough to stand between me and every doubt I’ve ever carried.
I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes—not from weakness, but from relief. From the overwhelming flood of love and protection he offers. For once, someone sees me. All of me. And fights for me.
George lets out a low, bitter laugh — smooth, but sharp enough to wound. “Oh,please,” he drawls. “I was her first, Elijah. Have you forgotten that? The one who taught her what love felt like — and lust, too, for that matter.”
My stomach turns. That word—lust—coming from his mouth makes my skin crawl. He doesn’t say it with affection or memory. He says it to humiliate me. To reduce me to a conquest. To remind me of a time when I don’t know better.
When I didn’t know myself.
But Elijah doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, his eyes sharpening as a slow, controlled.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as a slow, controlled smile curves his lips. Not amused. Not rattled.Lethal.
“Lust?” he says, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “You wouldn’t recognize real lust if it slapped you across the face. That’s easy. That’s what cowards give when they’ve got nothing real to offer.”
He steps closer, every word heavy.
“You handed her ‘lust’ like it was some kind of trophy — something for you. But here’s the truth, George — it isn’t lust if she doesn’t cum. It’s ego. It’s a show. It’s you using her as a reflection of yourself.”
The air changes. He doesn’t stop.
“Love is different,” he says. “Real love isn’t a game. It’s not about performing. It’s patience. It’s earning it every single day. It’s waking up and choosing her. Seeing her. Loving her — without limits, without conditions, without expecting anything back.”
Then he looks at me. The hardness in him softens the instant our eyes meet.
“I didn’t give Ava lust. I gave her what it’s like to be truly loved. Cherished. Worshiped. And I’ll keep giving it to her — every day I’m lucky enough to call her mine.”
George’s smile falters, the arrogance slipping beneath the weight of Elijah’s words. For a second, he tries to recover—jaw clenched, nostrils flaring—but he can’t match what’s just been said. He turns his gaze to me, maybe expecting shame, maybe hoping to find doubt. Regret.
He finds neither.
I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and slide my hand into Elijah’s. My voice is quiet, but steady as steel.
“With him, I finally know what it means to be seen. You? You never even bother to look.”
Elijah turns back to George, still composed, but with a final edge that cuts deep.
“You may have been the first to touch her, George. But I’ll be the last. And the only one who ever makes her come undone in ways you wouldn’t even understand.”
George stares at him, jaw locked, throat working like he wants to speak—but nothing comes. The silence says more than he ever could.
He turns and walks away, slower this time, like the weight of his own irrelevance has finally caught up to him.
As he disappears into the crowd, Elijah turns to me and lifts my hand to his lips.
“You okay, baby girl?”
