Chapter 12
Scott stared at me for a beat too long, like he hadn’t expected the words–like he’d waited so long to hear them that now he didn’t know what to say.
Then, slowly, he smiled. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
It should’ve scared me, but it didn’t. Not then. That night, something shifted. The air between us felt lighter, the space warmer. We didn’t talk about what came next. We just lived the next few days in quiet understanding–like something between us had blossomed and neither of us wanted to risk crushing it too quickly.
We started spending more time together. Mornings drinking coffee in the sunroom. Evenings walking in the garden as the lights flickered on like little fireflies. He brought me to the farmer’s market one Saturday and insisted I try every kind of cheese available. I fed him a slice of apple pie from a street vendor, and he told me it tasted better from my hands.
We shared music. He played me his favorite jazz playlist while I cooked. I introduced him to 90s ballads while he helped wash dishes–off–key singing included.
We even had our first official date.
He drove us up the hills of the Swiss countryside, stopping at a quaint restaurant tucked between pine trees. We dined under fairy lights with wine and fondue, and I laughed more in two hours than I had in two years.
“I like this version of you,” Scott said quietly when the waiter had left us alone.
“What version?”
‘The one that laughs easily. That doesn’t flinch when someone touches her hand.” He reached for mine. “The one that lets herself be happy.”
I squeezed his fingers and whispered, “I’m trying.”
After dinner, we didn’t head straight home. Scott took a detour through a trail just beyond the ́estaurant, and we ended up beneath a canopy of trees lit by soft lanterns hanging like floating
stars.
‘Local secret,” he said, grinning as he offered me his hand. “The best part of the night.”
took it without hesitation, letting him lead me to a wooden bench nestled under the largest tree. There was a small music box hidden there–he wound it carefully, and soft piano notes began to
loat into the air.
‘This place is magical,” I whispered, hugging my coat tighter.
He draped his arm around me, his warmth steady. “No. You are.”
laughed quietly, leaning into him as the wind whispered around us. “You’re dangerously close to making me fall in love with you.”
‘Then fall,” he murmured. “I’ll catch you.”
For the first time in years, I believed someone would.
That night, after he dropped me off, I went to bed with a smile on my face.
But sleep had its own plans.
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7:18 pm G D D
It started with water.
I was choking. My lungs burning. My fingers slipping from the edge of the wooden dock as the rain lashed against my face.
“Jarren!” I screamed. “Please–I’m drowning!”
His figure stood motionless on the shore. Watching.
Then walking away.
The dream shifted–this time it was the pills. His hand forcing them into my mouth, cold eyes watching me gasp and gag.
Then the seafood.
My throat swelling. My hands clawing at the table. His voice laughing with guests as I collapsed in the background.
I woke up screaming. –
My chest heaved. My skin was drenched in sweat. I reached for the lamp, fumbling with trembling hands.
I wasn’t in his house anymore.
But somehow, he still found me–in my sleep.
I was trying to let go. Trying to believe that maybe this, finally, was something real.
And yet…
t crept in slowly.
The doubt. The fear.
‘d lie in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind wandering where it shouldn’t. What if this was just emporary? What if I was a rebound, a project? What if I gave myself to him and he turned out tc be just like Jarren?
Worse–what if I ruined Scott?
de deserved someone whole. Someone who wasn’t carrying invisible bruises and memories of >eing left outside in the rain. I had built this life for survival, not for love. Not again.
t hit hardest when we were together in the kitchen a few days later. He tried to dance with me bulling me gently into his arms while we waited for the timer to ding. He was smiling, humming
melody I didn’t recognize.
And all I could think was–I don’t deserve this.
pulled away gently. “I should go check the bread.”
Hayley-” he said, his brows drawing together.
avoided his eyes. “It’s probably burning.”
The next day, I left early.
The day after that, I skipped dinner with his mother.
Then I stopped replying to his messages. His knock on my door in the evening went unanswered. I told the maid to say I wasn’t feeling well. That I needed time.
hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop.
Chapter 12
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I had gone too far. Let it get too real. If I fell harder, I might never recover.
And so I disappeared behind quiet smiles and locked doors.
I thought he’d give up. Thought he’d get tired and let it fade like a bad dream.
But he didn’t.
It was the fourth night in a row when I heard the knock again–but this time, it didn’t stop. It kept coming. Firm. Intentional.
I knew who it was before I even opened the door.
Scott stood there, jaw tight, eyes shadowed with something I hadn’t seen in him before.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on,” he said, “or do I have to keep standing outside like a fool?”