No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have trusted him in the first place. It’s also my fault, but it’s easier to blame him so shut the fuck up, brain. I’m trying to cope.
“She still hates me but she’s more worried about you,” he explains. “Said you weren’t looking too good.”
My gaze doesn’t leave his as I pull the blanket up to my nose and remain quiet.
I don’t want to talk to him, nor do I want to see him. His mere face makes me want to stab myself to forget the flutter in my heart when he looks at me like I’m his entire world.
But if I really mattered as much as he tries to make it seem, then why did he lie to me? Why did he have to betray me?
Visha leans his chin on the edge of the bed, only a few inches from my face. I frown, eyes starting to sting and burn from the urge to sob.
“Your fault,” I whisper. “Hate you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me but allow me to stay here.”
I hate how much his presence soothes my bruised heart despite the voice in my head screaming at me to shut him out of my lifebefore it’s too late. Subconsciously, I slide my hand out from under the blanket and graze his jaw.
Visha shudders at the light touch and hesitantly melts into it, seeking my caress. His eyes flutter closed as his features mix into sorrow and comfort.
I love him, don’t I?
I love him more than I hate myself.
But I can’t forgive him. I can’t forgive myself.
My name comes out in a whisper from his parted lips, and I’m yanked out of the trance. I pull my hand away from his jaw, but he grabs it and interlinks our fingers.
“Please, just…just let me hold your hand at least,” he pleads, his voice so broken that I feel myself sink into an abyss of regret and guilt. “Please…”
I don’t understand why but I nod and shut my eyes. My body relaxes when he starts tracing circles on the back of my hand.
“I want you gone when I wake up.”
He stiffens momentarily but slowly nods. “Okay.”
I’ll never see him again after today anyway. I want to feel him one last time before I say goodbye once and for all.
“Come here and hold me,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.
The bed dips under his weight as he climbs next to me and lays down, wrapping his arms around my trembling body. His breath tickles my nape when he inhales my scent, and I shudder, melting into his familiar, entrancing, and traitorous embrace.
I missed him. Fuck, I missed him so much. I fucking hate him for what he did. I hate him so much, but what I hate the most is that no matter what, I still love him.
Pulling the blanket higher over my nose, I bury my face in the fabric and sob, relishing the sensation of his strong and firm body holding me and shielding me from the truth.
That when I open my eyes again, it’ll be over.
***
He left.
I know I asked him to, but a part of me wishes he had disobeyed and stayed by my side longer.
I shove the blanket off me and head toward the desk. As I sit down, I open my computer and skim through my manuscript one last time, making sure I edited everything and proofread it. Now that the book is finished, I can finally rest in peace.
The world will know my name, my story, and I’ll be free.
I send a copy of the document in an e-mail to Mr. Williams, Dixon and my agent. My hands reach for a sheet of paper and a pen, letting my fingers ink the words down that I have wanted to utter out loud for years now but never could.
