~LAYLA~
"I love you."
The words tumbled from him, catching off guard and making pause in my tracks. My hand gripped the bannister so tightly that my knuckles turned white, my heart pounding loudly against my ribs.
Love?
That was the last thing I expected to hear.
After hiding Erica, after breaking my trust, after all of this, he chose now of all ti to say those words?
The words I’d secretly longed to hear now felt like a trap, too tangled with his lies and secrets to an what they should an.
"I love you," he repeated, stepping closer, his eyes pleading. "And I was trying to protect you because the thought of you being hurt again after everything you’ve been through, after Daniel, after Cassandra, after your father... I couldn’t stand it."
"You don’t get to love and lie to at the sa ti," I said quietly. "That’s not how this works."
"I didn’t lie..."
"You hid the truth from . You kept Erica’s whereabouts from and told she was missing." Tears stung my eyes, and I wiped them away angrily. "That’s the sa as lying, Axel. Don’t you understand that?"
"I was trying to protect you..."
"I can’t do this right now." I turned back toward the stairs. "I just... I need to lie down. I need to think."
"Don’t shut out, Layla."
"You shut out first," I said without turning around. "You made that choice when you decided I couldn’t handle knowing about Erica."
I climbed the stairs, feeling a weight on my whole body. Behind , I heard Axel say my na one more ti, but I didn’t stop... couldn’t stop.
His words echoed in my head with every step I took: I love you. I love you. I love you.
The retreat flashed through my mind, our conversations under the stars, the way he’d held after we made love for the first ti, and the promises we’d whispered in the dark about being a real team, about no more secrets.
All of it had felt so real, so raw, so true.
And maybe it had been real. Maybe he did love .
But how could love and deception exist in the sa space?
In my room, the one I’d abandoned since we returned from the retreat, after everything changed between us, I closed the door and locked it.
I sank onto the floor, my back against the door, and let the tears co in full force.
His "I love you" burned in my chest, part of desperately wanting to run back down those stairs and fall into his arms, to tell him I loved him too. Because I did... God help , I did love him.
But another part of , the part that had been betrayed too many tis, by too many people I’d trusted... that part raged against the vulnerability, against the risk of being hurt again.
How could I love soone who didn’t trust enough to tell the truth?
How could I build a life with soone who made decisions for instead of with ?
I sat there on the floor for what felt like hours, my mind spinning in circles. The trial, Erica’s testimony, Cassandra’s pale face as her sches fell apart before her, Charles’s cold calculation... it all felt distant now, like it had happened to soone else.
All I could focus on was Axel’s voice saying those three words and the way they’d simultaneously filled with hope and shattered completely.
Did I love him back?
The question sat heavily in my chest. I’d been afraid to even think it, afraid to acknowledge the depth of what I felt for him. Our marriage had started as a contract, a business arrangent with clear boundaries and expectations.
But sowhere along the way, it had beco real.
The way he looked at when he thought I wasn’t watching. The protective way his hand always found mine in crowds. The gentleness in his touch when we made love. The quiet conversations in the early morning hours when the world was still asleep.
All of it pointed to sothing deeper than a contract, sothing more than convenience.
I loved him.
The realisation hit like a wave, and I pressed my hands to my face, fresh tears spilling over.
I loved him, and he loved , and we were both terrified and broken and trying so hard to protect each other that we’d ended up hurting each other instead.
But love wasn’t supposed to include lies. Love was supposed to be built on trust, on honesty, on partnership.
Wasn’t it?
I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs feeling stiff from sitting so long. The room felt stuffy and claustrophobic. I needed to move, to breathe, to think clearly.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, watching in the mirror as the tears washed away, leaving my eyes red and swollen. I looked exhausted, emotionally wrung out, like I’d aged years in a single day.
I took my ti in the bathroom, changing out of my court clothes into comfortable pajamas, washing my face properly, and brushing my hair.
Small, mundane tasks that helped ground and made feel like a person again, instead of just a ball of raw emotion.
When I finally erged, I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door to Axel’s room... our room. Part of wanted to knock, to walk in, to tell him I understood why he’d done what he’d done, even if I disagreed with it.
Instead, I found myself walking down the stairs, drawn by a need I couldn’t quite na. Maybe I needed to see him, to talk to him, to find so way through this ss that didn’t involve either of us sleeping alone and miserable.
"Axel?" I called out softly.
No response.
I checked the study... empty. The kitchen... empty. Even the formal living room, where we rarely spent ti... empty.
Mrs Martha walked in from the side entrance. "Layla, I heard you calling Axel?"
"Yeah, you know where he is?"
"He left the house a few minutes ago."
"Oh..."
Disappointnt and relief flooded my chest. Part of had been ready to apologise for walking out instead of staying to talk it through. Part of had wanted to tell him that I loved him too, despite everything.
But another part was grateful for more ti to process, to figure out what I really wanted to say.
"Thanks, Mrs Martha."
"Need anything?"
I shook my head. "No, thanks, I can manage."
I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. While the water heated, I leaned against the counter, my mind drifting back to our first real date, which was actually a public show to prove our marriage was real.
Then the gas at the retreat, the...
The kettle whistled, pulling from my thoughts. I made chamomile tea, hoping it would help calm the storm still raging inside .
I carried my cup to the living room and settled onto the couch, tucking my feet under . The house felt too quiet, too empty without Axel’s presence. Even when we’d been fighting, even when I’d been furious with him, having him nearby had felt right.
Now the silence pressed in, making second-guess everything.
Maybe I should have stayed downstairs. Maybe I should have let him explain fully instead of cutting him off. Maybe...
The thoughts chased themselves in circles as I sipped my tea, staring at nothing in particular. I finished my tea and set the cup on the coffee table, telling myself I’d just rest my eyes for a mont.
Just a mont, and then I’d go back upstairs to my room.
But I was so tired, the emotional toll of the day finally catching up to . My eyes closed, and even though I really wanted to wait for Axel and talk to him, sleep took over.
I fell asleep on the couch, curled up in a ball, waiting for a husband who might not co ho, struggling with feelings I was too afraid to fully acknowledge, caught between the love I felt and the trust that had been broken.
The house settled into silence around , and sowhere in my dreams, I heard Axel’s voice again: I love you.
And in that dream, I finally whispered back: I love you too.
Reviews
All reviews (0)