The small clink of the ring against the fabric was a death knell for sothing that had once felt so vital. Adrien’s eyes, already full of a tempest of emotions, widened in disbelief, then devastation. The fierce resolve that had flickered monts before seed to extinguish, leaving behind a raw, exposed vulnerability.
He didn’t speak for a long ti, the silence stretching between us, thick with unspoken accusations and the crushing weight of our shared loss. His gaze was fixed on the ring, then slowly, agonizingly, lifted to et mine. There was a flicker of sothing I couldn’t quite decipher – a desperate plea, a broken question.
"Bella—"
"I can’t keep living like this," I said, my voice cracking halfway through. "Adrien, I can’t keep surviving around you. It’s always pain, it’s always sothing. I just... I want to breathe again. Without fear. Without waiting for the next blow."
"Belle—"
"I want a divorce."
The words fell out of like stones.
He went completely still. For a mont, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard . Then his breath hitched, sharp and fragile.
"No," he said softly. "You don’t an that."
"I do." My voice was small but unwavering. "Let’s go our separate ways. You stay in your world, I’ll return to mine. And I hope, with everything in , that you never cross my path again." I t his eyes then, my throat closing around the words. "Don’t ever show your face to again, Adrien. I an it. You can keep your empire, your world of control, your secrets. I’m done."
"Princess—"
"I’m resigning too," I said quickly, before he could say anything else. "From the job, from the marriage, from everything that binds to you. I’m done being your assistant, your lover, your liability."
"Bella, please. You don’t an that. You’re in pain, and—"
"Don’t you dare tell what I an!" I shouted, the sound raw and animal. "Just leave the hell alone..."
His jaw worked, his voice dropping to that low, steady tone he always used to soothe chaos. "Izzy, please, calm down—"
"Don’t." I snapped, shoving his hand away when he reached for . "Don’t touch !"
He tried again, gentler this ti, his palm grazing my shoulder. "Please, sweetheart, just—"
I shoved harder. "I said don’t!"
The tears ca again, hot and shaking. gosh... I cant seem to stop this damn tears... it hurts much.
He reached for then, slow and careful, like I was sothing fragile. His arms ca around before I could stop him.
"Let go of !" I struggled, shoving against his chest, as I started hitting his chest, weak blows that landed more out of grief than anger. "Let go, Adrien!"
"Please calm down, Amor," he whispered against my hair, voice hoarse. "Please."
His arms tightened instinctively, not to restrain, but to offer a sanctuary I was violently rejecting. I could feel the rumble of his chest beneath my fists, a steady, solid presence that was both the anchor and the storm I was trying to escape. My breath hitched, ragged sobs tearing through the fragile quiet of the room.
"You’re hurting ," I choked out, the words muffled against his tailored shirt. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. He wasn’t physically hurting ; it was the mory of his touch, the phantom echo of our intimacy that clawed at .
"Stop—" I hit him again, but it only made him hold tighter. "You don’t get to touch ! Release —"
And then—I felt it. Sothing wet fell against my hair. A tear. Then another. Not mine. His.
I froze. For a split second, confusion cut through the rage. Is he crying?
My sobs faltered for a heartbeat. "Why—why are you crying?" I stamred. "I’m the one hurting. Why are you doing this now?!"
His arms trembled around , his breath unsteady. But he didn’t answer.
My hands, clenched into fists against his chest, slowly uncurled.
"Why?" I whispered again, the word muffled against the starched linen of his shirt. It slled of him. The familiarity was a fresh wound.
He drew a ragged, shuddering breath. His voice, when it finally ca, was shattered glass. "Because you’re my heart," he rasped, the words raw and stripped bare of all his usual control. "And you just asked to stop it from beating."
Sothing in snapped. A scream ripped out of my throat, so loud it scraped the walls. "NGAAAAAH!"
I thrashed, desperate to break free, my nails digging into his arm, the IV line yanking hard enough to make the machine beep angrily.
"Stop—Bella, stop, you’re hurting yourself!" He let go at last, hands falling in surrender. "Please—please stop, you’re bleeding."
I looked down. The IV had torn partway out, blood trickling down my wrist. The sight barely registered before another wave of fury hit.
"Get out!" I scread. My hand shot out, grabbing the vase on the bedside table. Without thinking, I hurled it at him.
It shattered against the floor beside his legs, water splashing across his shoes.
"Leave! Go away! I don’t want to see you!" My voice cracked and collapsed into sobs. "Just go, Adrien!"
Adrien didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare a glance for the shattered ceramic. His gaze remained locked on my face, but it was no longer accusatory or pleading. It was simply... broken. The raw hurt in his eyes was almost too much to bear, even for in my current storm.
"Please..." I whispered, the word coming out as a strangled sob. "Just go." My gaze dropped to the small clink of the ring on the sheet next to , the ring that had started this entire, agonizing spiral. Like a compass needle pointing ho, it pulled my eyes back to Adrien’s face, to the man who was both my anchor and my storm. "Just... get out of my life."
The room filled with the sound of my own broken breathing, the steady beep of the IV monitor, and the echo of glass still rolling on the floor between us.
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