Page 134 of Unwritten Rules

I’m nineteen years old. I don’t know what I want, but it certainly isn’t to be married by twenty with a brood of kids and no life of my own by twenty-five.

I need to live my life, and I can’t do that here with you.

I’ll always treasure our time together, but you deserve to find someone who is ready for what you want. I can’t be her. Not now, maybe not ever.

As my final wish, I ask that you don’t look for me. Don’t think about me. Pretend you hate me, and one day you won’t have to pretend anymore.

Find happiness and do your duty. This is what’s best for everyone, trust me.

Love always,

Your Hellcat xo

* * *

I lose track of how long I sit in silence, reading and re-reading the words that shatter my life.

As my final wish, I ask that you don’t look for me. Don’t think about me. Pretend you hate me, and one day you won’t have to pretend anymore.

Clearly, that was what the hate sex and lack of intimacy were all about last night. I feel the biggest fool as I crumple the page and let my head fall into my hands to finally succumb to my heretofore numbed emotions.

Any amount of time passes as I remain numb to all around me, sifting through the all-encompassing hurt and grief that swells inside my broken heart.

“Nathaniel? What’s the matter?”

I slowly pull my face from my hands, letting my old friend once more witness my undoing, only to realise that I’ve never felt such overwhelming pain before. Not even when I’d found my father and Zara together.

“Mila’s gone. She left me.”

Trying to sit up, he clears his throat. “No. No, dear boy. She didn’t—”

“Lord Hawthorne, sir?”

Lesley pokes her head in the door, her eyes landing on Wetherby and lighting up. “You’re awake. Mum will be thrilled to see you’ve not given up—”

Wetherby cuts her off sharply, utterly unlike his usual overly polite manner. “Fetch me a glass of water, please, Lesley. Thank you.”

Lesley bobs her head before returning her attention to me, her mouth forming into an O when she remembers her initial reason for entering Wetherby’s private space.

“Sir, Miss Zara is at the door. I’ve told her you don’t wish to speak with her…” She drops her head sheepishly. “…but she’s quite insistent.”

“That’s alright, Lesley. I’ll deal with her. Would you mind shooting a text to Tatiana? She should be at the cottage.”

I pay her enough to ensure she stays close 24/7.

“I’d like her to check on my man here.” Glancing back at Wetherby, I tell him, “I’ll be two minutes.”

As I march from the room, I hear Wetherby’s voice calling after me. “Nathaniel, son. Please come back. I need to speak with you first.”

But I’m set on my path, ready to unleash a nuclear attack on my ex-fiancée.

She’s loitering by the open front door when I spot her, and her face lights up like I’ve hung the damn moon.

“Get out. Now. You’ve undoubtedly received the gag order by now and well know that all interaction between us must go through legal channels, as per the letter my law team sent to yours.” Having said my piece, I spin on my heel and call over my shoulder, “Close the door when you leave.”

The door slams as I head back to Wetherby’s rooms. Lesley is on her way back with his water. I pluck the glass from her hand with a small smile, which she answers with a shy one of her own. One that drops off her face when Zara reaches us.

“Excuse me, sir.” Lesley ducks out the back door, looking positively gleeful to escape.