126
The ballroom was too loud. Too glittering. Too alive.
The golden chandeliers above shimmered with a thousand tiny flames, casting light on silk gowns, tuxedos, and clinking glasses. The air was heavy with perfume, laughter, and violin music, but it all dulled into white noise around Yalda.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her chest rose and fell too quickly, the tightness spread like wildfire across her ribcage. Her hands trembled, subtle at first, barely noticeable even to herself, but soon it took over her arms, her legs. The nausea struck next, swift and ruthless, a twisting in her gut that left her clutching at her side.
She tried to steady herself, forcing her shoulders straight, but her vision blurred at the edges as more tears pooled in her eyes.
And then she saw him again.
Across the room, just for a flicker of a moment. He seemed so calm, so composed as he continued to converse with another group of men. He was completely unbothered by the fact that she was here, that he had seen her, that he had moved fucked her and broken her completely.
Her throat clenched painfully.
Her heart drummed in her ears loudly, almost erratically. At this point it was the only sound she could hear. Until Ioannis inches closer beside her. His arm slid around her waist, firm and grounding. “Yalda?”
She didn’t answer.
He turned, and that was when he saw her face. The paleness. The sweat at her temple. The tremor in her jaw she couldn’t hide any longer.
“Come,” he said as he helped her up to her feet, already steering her gently through the crowd. “We’re leaving.”
He didn’t wait for objections. His hand never left her back as he guided her out of the ballroom, down the private corridor, and into the elevator. The music faded. The pressure eased. But her breath remained unsteady.
By the time they reached the suite, Yalda’s whole body felt like it might give out beneath her.
Ioannis closed the door behind them and turned to her.
“I shouldn’t have brought you tonight,” he said quietly, regret evident in every word. “I thought… I thought you’d enjoy it. Or at least tolerate it. I didn’t realize how much you hated being in those crowds.”
He thought he was responsible for her current state? For her breakdown?
She didn’t speak. She couldn't.
Instead, she stood near the center of the room, her arms loosely wrapped around herself, like a fragile ice sculpture on the verge of melting.
“Yalda…” he said again, stepping closer. “Say something.”
She looked up then, and the tears that brimmed in her green eyes finally spilled over.
“I saw him.”
The words were barely audible; they were a whisper. A breath that carried too much pain.
Ioannis frowned. “Who?”
Her lips trembled. “Alexander.”
A stillness fell between them. He stared at her, not quite understanding. Then her knees buckled, this time more than a tremble, and Ioannis was at her side in an instant, catching her before she could fall.
“I thought it was in my head,” she said in a rush, her voice breaking. “But I saw him. He was there, across the ballroom."
He helped her to the edge of the bed and sat beside her, his arm wrapping around her back as she leaned into him, barely holding herself together.
She buried her face against his chest, her hands clinging to the fabric of his jacket. Her tears soaked through. They were silent at first, but then they came harder, shaking her shoulders with the force of emotion she’d tried so hard to lock away.
Ioannis held her without a word.
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand clarity. He only held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other drawing small, slow circles on her spine.
His voice came much later, gentle and low. “Do you think he saw you?”
His question has her heart clenching like it had been tied in a tight knot. She recalled how easily Alexander had looked away when he had seen her, how easily he had desregarded her. “He did." She was crying even more now.
He kissed the top of her head, lips lingering there. “It's alright. Don't cry, calm yourself."
A sob escaped her throat. “I didn’t expect to see him again, not like that. I thought I’d buried it all.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I still feel this way.”
Ioannis exhaled, a long breath full of restraint. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Yalda. You were in love with him. You loved him enough to let him hurt you. That doesn’t disappear just because he did.”
She sat in silence, pressed tightly to his chest, the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear the only steady thing in her world.
He didn’t flinch at her tears. He didn’t rush her pain. He just stayed.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
At some point, she looked up at him, her face blotched and damp, her mascara smeared, and he met her gaze with something raw and unfiltered in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I broke down like this,” she said quietly. She was mess and she was almost ashamed.
He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a tear away. "You don't ever have to apologize for breaking down.”
“I ruined your night.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. I’d rather be here holding you than out there smiling at everyone else.”
Something in her chest cracked open then, something buried too long under grief and shame and silence. She leaned into him again, and this time, it wasn’t about panic or fear.
It was about trust and safety.
His hand never left her as they sat like that on the bed, two figures dressed for a ballroom but trapped in a much quieter war.
Outside, Monte Carlo’s lights danced on the surface of the sea. The city went on. But inside the suite, the world had narrowed to one man, one woman, and the echo of a name Yalda had bever expected to face again.
Ioannis planted a soft kiss on her head. She was broken, but he wanted her still; he wanted her more than ever.
A/N
Hi hi mi luvs. I'm afraid updates may be a bit slow for the next couple of days, it cant be helped. Do hang in there.
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