Sweet Hatred Chapter 118: A temporary convenience

I tilted my head. "A gift?"

"Mhm. I was saving it for a more fitting event, but..." He trailed off, licking his bottom lip while eyeing like I was dessert. "Now I’m not so sure I can wait to see you wear it."

That gave pause. A dangerous pause.

"Wait. Hold on—what kind of gift are we talking about?"

He leaned back, arms draped lazily across the back of his chair. "The kind that’ll make want to cancel the wedding invite altogether and keep you locked inside for a month."

My stomach flipped. "Kael—"

"I found it in a boutique on the street, waiting," he went on, delighting in my visible panic. "Red. Silk. Barely there. The kind of thing you wear only once... if at all."

I swallowed. "I changed my mind. Forget the party. I’m not wearing anything you give ever again."

He smirked. "Too late. Now I’m excited. You’re going to wear it."

"No I’m not!"

"You are," he said, his tone dipping into sothing far too satisfied. "You will. And you’ll like how much I like it."

I stood from my chair, ready to escape—only for him to catch my wrist, gently tugging back down beside him.

"I’m tired of you," I muttered, face hot as hellfire.

"Are you?" His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing lightly over my lower lip. "Because from where I’m sitting, you look like a girl who just got caught poking a tiger."

I huffed, biting down a smile I didn’t an to let slip.

"You’re a headache."

"And you’re mine."

I swear, if he kept talking like that, I would end up in that outfit before dinner.

"So..." I drawled slowly, stabbing a piece of pasta and twirling it like I wasn’t planning to drop a bomb. "Are we really just gonna pretend I didn’t hear you talking about street rats, turf wars, and suspicious envelopes?"

Kael’s fork paused mid-air.

For a mont, his entire face stilled, then he exhaled deeply, the sound low and rough—like the kind of breath you take when you’d rather swallow glass than explain sothing. His eyes flicked to mine, unreadable.

"I’m not asking you to tell everything," I said quickly, holding up a hand. "I just... don’t like being kept in the dark. About certain things."

Like your past.

But those words got stuck sowhere between my throat and my pride. I bit the inside of my cheek instead, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.

Because those questions, the ones clawing at the back of my mind late at night, weren’t ones soone like had the right to ask. Not when I was just a temporary convenience. A passing thrill. A signed contract with an end date that lingered sowhere in the distance like a storm cloud.

And when that day ca...

God.

A sudden, tight ache twisted in my chest. Deep and sick and raw. The kind of ache that makes your stomach curl in on itself and your lungs forget how to work. Because I knew—I knew—I’d be the one left behind. Picking up the shattered pieces while he moved on untouched, unbothered.

Because he never promised love. He never promised forever. I just... stupidly fell.

And now I’d have to be the one to carry the weight of that heartbreak... alone.

"Aria."

Kael’s voice broke through the spiral, smooth and deep like warm whiskey. I blinked, startled to realize I’d been staring blankly at my plate. His hand reached up, knuckles brushing softly down my cheek, a crooked little smile tugging at his lips.

"You look like you’re about to shoot soone," he teased. "And you’re not even holding the gun anymore."

I tried to laugh, but it sounded thin.

His gaze softened—dangerously so—and he kept stroking my face with that infuriating tenderness that made it harder to breathe.

"I can’t tell you everything," he said quietly. "But... what do you want to know?"

My heart flipped. Just like that, the opening was there, offered like a hand extended in the dark.

His question lingered in the air between us, thick and charged. What do you want to know?

And for a second, I honestly didn’t know where to begin.

There were so many things tucked at the back of my mind, haunting in the quiet monts. Like the na he muttered when I found him drunk and half-dead at his desk that night, Ivan.

When Niko and I drag him to his car, and even then, he was slurring that na like it was carved into his soul. Niko had gone stiff in the front seat when he heard it. He knew sothing—I could feel it—but I never asked. I couldn’t.

Then there was that stupid text—"Hi darling."—from an unsaved number the next night at his apartnt. The next night when I was fetching his dication like so doting little thing and boom, just like that, the reminder: I didn’t know shit about this man. Not really.

And don’t even get started on the most recent one, his father showing up unannounced, radiating pure nace, only to leave after casually dropping a bomb: "His first love..."

That one dug its claws in deeper than the rest. Maybe because... I couldn’t stop wondering who she was. What kind of woman caught Kael Roman’s heart? Did he love her the way he kissed when he thought I was asleep? Did she break him? Or was it the other way around?

I cleared my throat, trying to sound breezy as I speared a tomato and kept my gaze on the plate. "So... this might be a weird one to start with but... you’ve been in love before, haven’t you?"

There was a pause. I could feel it in my bones.

I pushed on, forcing a little shrug like it was nothing. "Not that I’m asking for any particular reason or anything. Just..." I chanced a glance up at him. "I’m curious. What kind of woman would the mighty man burn the world for?"

Kael’s jaw shifted slightly. He didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He just looked at with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

And for a heartbeat, I wished I hadn’t asked at all.

Kael let out a quiet breath, then chuckled under it—low, rough. "I expected all kinds of questions from you, Aria," he said, swirling the wine In his glass without drinking it. "But not that one."

I shifted in my seat, suddenly unsure. "You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable," I murmured, chewing the inside of my cheek. "Sorry. It’s none of my—"

He cut In gently. "No. It’s alright."

His voice was quiet now, stripped bare of charm. "Once. A long ti ago. Well maybe not too long."

He stared into the lunch table for a mont, eyes dark with sothing I couldn’t quite na.

"It was... dangerous. I thought I could have both the freedom and the person. That I could escape the Roman na without sacrificing anything that mattered."

His hand flexed loosely around the wineglass.

"Love makes you weak. Or maybe it just makes you honest. And honesty—"

A pause. His jaw ticked. "Got him killed."

Him.

I blinked. For a second, I thought I misheard. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t correct it. He just said it like it was sothing he’d buried a thousand tis in his head but never once aloud.

Kael leaned back, dragging a slow breath through his nose. "So firefly, I didn’t fall anymore. I just... held people where they couldn’t reach . Safer that way."

And I sat there, absolutely stunned. Not by what he’d said—okay, maybe a little by that—but mostly by how he said It.

Soft. Quiet. Honest.

And I didn’t know what stung more—the pain in his voice, or the way I suddenly wanted to wrap myself around all the ghosts he refused to na. and suddenly the dots connected in my head.

I didn’t an to say it. It slipped out like a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

"...Was it Ivan?"

Kael froze. Actually froze.

The air between us shattered. I saw it—his entire body locked like a wire pulled too tight, and for the first ti since I t him, he paled. Not like fear. Worse. Like a wound cracked wide open.

His eyes slowly lifted to mine. Dark. Guarded. Terrifyingly silent.

"How do you know that na?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, but there was no softness in it. Just ice. And steel.