Guilt and Love
ARIANA'S POV
As soon as the door slammed, I closed my eyes.
Not because I didn’t want to watch him leave.
But because I couldn’t bear to.
Hardin’s face—raw, shattered, disbelieving—was etched into my mind like a scar I couldn’t scrub away. The sound of his footsteps echoing down the hallway still reverberated through my chest, each step a cruel reminder of how far apart we now stood.
I pressed my fingers to my temple and leaned back against the pillows, biting down the sting of tears behind my eyes.
Damn him.
Damn him for making me feel guilty when I was the one who’d been betrayed.
I should hate him. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream, to rip the IV out of my arm, to throw the goddamn tray of hospital food at the wall and demand someone explain how the hell everything spiraled so fast.
But I just laid there, still, silent, breathing through the hollow ache that took up residence in my ribs the moment I saw that video.
I hated what he did.
I hated how it made me feel.
But what I hated most… was that I still loved him.
And it was eating me alive.
“Hey,” Matthew’s voice was soft, hesitant.
I turned to look at him. He stood near the foot of my bed, holding the now slightly crumpled gift bag, his eyes unsure, almost apologetic. The charm he walked in with had faded, replaced by something realer—warmer.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Was I okay?
That question felt too big for the moment. Like asking someone buried in rubble if they needed a glass of water.
But I nodded anyway. “Yeah. I just…”
I looked away.
“I really appreciate you being here. Bringing me here. The flowers, everything.” My voice was steady, but inside, I felt like I was unraveling thread by thread. “But I need a little time. Alone.”
Matthew’s brow furrowed, and he took a slow step forward. “Ariana, I get that you’re overwhelmed. But… maybe it would help if someone stayed with you. Even just for a while.”
I gave him a soft, tired smile. “My mom and grandpa are on their way. They’ll be here soon.”
“I can stay until they arrive,” he offered, eyes hopeful.
But I shook my head.
I couldn’t do this. Not right now.
“Matthew,” I whispered, “please. Just give me a little space.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to be the guy who made things better. But instead, he nodded. His eyes dropped for a second as he let out a long breath.
Then he leaned forward slightly, as if to kiss my cheek again.
I turned away.
The moment stretched too long.
His hand tightened on the bag, then slowly loosened. “Right,” he said quietly. “I’ll… I’ll go.”
He turned, walked to the door, and paused.
“Take care of yourself, Ariana,” he said, and then he slipped out, leaving nothing but the fading scent of lilies in the room.
And just like that, I was alone again.
Alone with my thoughts. My guilt. My love. My fury.
God, what was wrong with me?
Why did I still feel so connected to someone who had destroyed me?
The look on Hardin’s face flashed behind my eyes again. Not just the anger, but the hurt. The kind of hurt that didn’t come from pride or jealousy… the kind that came from somewhere deeper.
But that didn’t change what I saw.
Beatrice.
Beatrice.
Her hands on his skin. Two of them in bed.
And I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t forget the sick twist of betrayal in my stomach when that video played. Couldn’t forget the way my heart had shattered into jagged, bloody pieces.
Still.
Even in the thick of all that pain…
He was the one I kept thinking about.
The one I saw in my dreams.
The one I still want close to me.
It was him.
Always him.
And maybe that’s what hurt the most.
Because no matter what Matthew said, no matter how many flowers or jokes or quiet smiles he offered, he wasn’t the one my soul recognized.
He wasn’t the one who made my world tilt.
He wasn’t Hardin.
And that made me furious.
I should have let it go. Should’ve screamed at Hardin until there was nothing left inside me but ash. But every time I thought I’d finally built my wall high enough, one look at him cracked it back open.
God, I hated this.
I hated me.
I buried my face in my hands and sat there, curled in on myself like a wounded animal, breathing in the sterile scent of the hospital and pretending I wasn’t falling apart.
Then came the knock.
Two soft raps.
I wiped at my cheeks and cleared my throat. “Come in.”
I figured it was my mom. Or Grandpa. Maybe a nurse.
But the moment the door creaked open, every cell in my body froze.
Because it wasn’t my mother.
It wasn’t my grandfather.
It wasn’t a nurse.
It was him.
I didn't need anyone to tell me this was him. God they looked alike, it was scary.
It was like… like…I didn't even know what to say.
That aura that crawled across your skin like static.
The moment he stepped through the door, my blood turned cold.
“We finally meet,” he said casually, like we were just old friends catching up over coffee. “Heard you’ve been looking for me.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
But it was.
No fucking way.
My pulse spiked so hard it thundered in my ears.
My mouth opened—but no sound came out.
He took a step forward.
And smiled.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
