CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

**OLIVER**
I stood at the window, my gaze fixed on the distant horizon, watching the sun dip below the tree line. The colors of the sky were beautiful, a gradient of pinks and oranges that painted the landscape in a serene glow. It felt almost like a cruel joke, the way everything outside seemed so peaceful while a storm raged relentlessly inside me. The contrast was unbearable, a reminder that the world kept moving, indifferent to the chaos unraveling within my chest.
It had been weeks since Gabriel returned. Weeks of silence, of avoidance, of trying to pretend that his presence didn’t affect me. Weeks since I had closed myself off completely, shutting down every single feeling I still had for him. At first, it felt like the right decision—protecting myself, guarding the fragile pieces of my heart he’d left behind. He had vanished without a word, disappearing into the night and leaving me to pick up the shattered remains of my life. And as much as I wanted to convince myself that it didn’t matter anymore, that I didn’t care, the truth was harder to swallow.
I couldn’t trust him. Not after what happened with Carrie. He had broken something fundamental between us, and I didn’t know if it could ever be repaired. And what did it matter, anyway? He didn’t seem to care about me when I needed him the most, so why should I let him back in now?
I pressed my palm against the cool glass of the window, hoping the cold would seep through my skin and numb the ache in my chest. But it didn’t. The chill only served as a sharp reminder of how empty I felt, how nothing—no amount of distance, no amount of silence—could erase the pain he’d caused.
Even after everything, Gabriel was still trying. I could feel it in the way he lingered, his presence like a shadow I couldn’t escape. He kept trying to close the gap I had put between us, as if his words or his sorrowful glances could undo the damage. I could hear the apologies in his voice, see the regret in the way he looked at me, but it didn’t change anything.
Apologies wouldn’t fix this. Pity wouldn’t erase the betrayal. What I wanted from him was something deeper, something he couldn’t give me. Not anymore.
“Oliver?”
The sound of his voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge him without meeting his eyes. He’d been like this for weeks—hovering on the edges of my solitude, trying to get through to me, always waiting for a response I couldn’t give. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back, heavy with unspoken words, but I refused to face him fully.
“Are you okay?” Gabriel’s voice was soft, hesitant, as if he was afraid of my answer.
I took a shallow breath, my chest tight with unspoken frustration. “I’m fine,” I replied curtly, keeping my eyes on the horizon.
I heard him sigh, a deep exhale that carried more than just defeat. It was layered with guilt, sorrow, and a desperation that was becoming all too familiar. Still, the silence stretched between us, tense and unyielding.
“I know things have been difficult lately,” he said after a moment, stepping closer. His voice was steady, but there was a vulnerability in it that made me feel even more on edge. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about what happened. I know I hurt you, Oliver. And I’m sorry. I want to make it right.”
His words hung in the air, but instead of soothing the ache inside me, they only deepened it. They felt hollow, like a bandage on a wound that had already festered. If he had truly meant them, he wouldn’t have left. He wouldn’t have disappeared when I needed him the most.
“I don’t need your apology, Gabriel,” I said, my voice cold and distant. The words tasted bitter, but they weren’t a lie. I didn’t want his apologies. I didn’t want his guilt. I just wanted him to leave me alone. “I’ve moved on.”
The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel the weight of his emotions pressing against me, as if they were physically pushing me down. His breathing grew shallow, each breath more strained than the last, and I could hear the faint sound of his hands clenching into fists at his sides, the muscles in his jaw twitching with the effort to hold back whatever he wanted to say. It felt like the room was closing in on me, the tension thick and unbearable. 
“I can’t accept that,” he said finally, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. “I won’t just walk away. I’ve hurt you, and I need to fix it. You mean too much to me, Oliver.”
I shook my head, but I didn’t respond. His words felt like empty promises, too little, too late. He had already walked away once, and the damage was done.
Without a word, I turned from the window and moved toward the kitchen, the weight of the conversation too much to bear. This dance of pushing him away only for him to come back with more apologies felt like an endless cycle, one that was wearing me down. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was easier to push him away now than to let him back in, only to be hurt again later.
I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, the silence of the house pressing down on me. I sipped slowly, letting the bitterness ground me. Let him be angry. Let him feel the pain he’d caused me if that’s what it took for him to understand.
A few moments later, I heard Gabriel approach, his footsteps hesitant. He didn’t sit down, but I could feel his presence in the doorway, his gaze heavy on me.
“I won’t give up on us, Oliver,” he said quietly. “I can’t.”
I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. The urge to yell at him, to tell him to leave me alone, rose like a tide inside me, but I didn’t have the energy anymore. The fight had drained out of me. Instead, I nodded shallowly and took another sip of coffee, my silence louder than any words I could have spoken.
Gabriel didn’t move, lingering in the doorway as if he was waiting for something, anything, from me. The silence stretched, tense and heavy, until he finally spoke again.
“I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I don’t want to lose you, Oliver. I can’t.”
His words hit harder than I expected, stirring something I had buried deep inside me. For a brief moment, I could almost feel the warmth of his hands on mine, the way he used to hold me like I was the center of his world. But those memories only made the ache worse. It was too late for that.
“You already have,” I whispered, barely audible. “You left me, Gabriel. You left me alone.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on me like a physical force. Gabriel didn’t respond immediately, but I could feel the struggle in his stillness, the quiet desperation in the way he lingered. His breathing, slow and measured, betrayed the tension he was trying so hard to mask.
I kept my eyes fixed elsewhere, refusing to meet his gaze, but I could sense the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides, the subtle tremor in his frame as though he was holding himself together by a thread. The space between us felt like it was shrinking and expanding all at once—a void filled with everything we couldn’t say. 
“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t change what happened, but I’m here now. And I swear, I won’t leave you again.”
I didn’t answer. What was there to say? Words felt pointless, an empty currency that had lost its value long ago. His promises felt like ash, crumbling before they could take shape, scattered by the winds of everything that had already gone wrong. Every syllable he spoke rang hollow, carrying the weight of things that could never be undone, no matter how desperately we wished otherwise.
I wanted to believe him—wanted to cling to the fragile hope he was offering—but the scars ran too deep. Each word he uttered felt like a reminder of the trust he’d shattered, of the wounds that still ached no matter how much time passed. So I stood there, silent, letting his words hang in the air like smoke from a fire that had long since burned out.
The rest of the evening passed in silence. Gabriel didn’t push me anymore, but his presence lingered like a shadow, heavy and impossible to ignore. Even when he wasn’t in the same room, I could feel the weight of him, the unspoken words hanging in the air between us.
As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressed down on me, suffocating and relentless. The darkness around me felt like a mirror of the emptiness inside, each thought heavier than the last. I wanted to push it all away, to escape even for a moment, but the silence was unyielding. All I could do was lie there, trapped in my own mind, and wait for the night to end.I replayed the moments over and over—the betrayal, the anger, the hurt. And yet, beneath it all, there was still a flicker of something I couldn’t ignore. A part of me still cared for Gabriel. A part of me still wanted him, even after everything he’d done.
I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it didn’t help the cold that had settled deep in my bones. The emptiness of the room pressed down on me, suffocating in its stillness. The silence felt like a physical thing, heavy and oppressive, as if it was holding me captive.
In that quiet, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any way back for us—if there was some path we could both take that would lead us to a place where things could be fixed, where we could start again. But deep down, I already knew the answer. The chasm between us was too wide, the wounds too deep. Even if I wanted to reach out, I wasn’t sure I could. And even if he wanted to bridge the gap, I didn’t know if I could trust him enough to let him.
There was no going back. Not now. Not ever.