Sweet Hatred Chapter 160: Broken Rules

ARIA

Kael didn’t say anything as he carried into his apartnt.

He didn’t need to.

I rembered thinking once that his place was too cold, too sharp with clean lines and empty silence. Like it mirrored the man himself: distant, unfeeling, impenetrable.

But now?

Now it just felt... safe.

Not warm, not quite. But familiar.

Like coming in from a storm and finally being allowed to stop pretending you’re not freezing.

He laid down gently on his bed, like he was afraid I’d break into pieces. I stared up at the ceiling, breathing in the subtle scent of him in the sheets—clean, dark, sothing expensive I could never na but always noticed.

"Will you take a shower?" he asked quietly. "While I get you sothing to eat."

I didn’t say anything.

My lips didn’t know how to move. My thoughts were still on that room. The beeping that stopped. The mont her hand went cold. Olivia sobbing so hard her voice cracked. And the doctor writing down the ti like it was just another thing on a clipboard.

"Olivia’s a crybaby," I murmured, eyes blank on the ceiling. "I know she won’t stop crying."

Kael sat beside , hands resting on his knees. "Michael’s with her, Kaleb too" he said, voice low and calm. "She’s not alone. And you... you need strength too, Aria. You can’t give it all away if you’re empty."

I turned my head to look at him. He too looked like hell. He always seed like that whenever we were apart for a while.

His hair was a ss, dark circles sitting under his eyes, jaw tight like he hadn’t let it unclench in hours. And sothing twisted inside —guilt, maybe. Sothing close to sha.

"You look tired," I whispered.

He didn’t answer right away.

"Is it because of ?" I asked. "Tell the truth. Is it ?"

I didn’t know what I wanted him to say. Yes would hurt. No would hurt worse. I needed to know I still ant sothing. That even if everything else felt like it was falling apart, I still had... this.

"No Aria... It’s work," he said eventually. "It’s just work."

Oh.

I nodded. Said nothing. And even though my chest cracked a little, I was... relieved.

Because if it wasn’t , then he didn’t owe anything.

I didn’t have to need him.

I didn’t have to fall.

He stood like he was about to leave the room.

But I reached out. Grabbed his hand.

"Don’t go."

He turned, startled. "I was just—"

I sat up, leaned forward, and kissed him in a soft, desperate and brief way. I couldn’t even say why I did. I just did.

And then I pulled back, swallowing the burn in my throat. "Sorry. I didn’t an to—"

"Don’t apologize." His voice broke gently against my skin. "I won’t leave you."

He kissed back. Not like a man wanting sothing. But like a man anchoring a woman who was slowly drifting away.

He stayed beside on the bed, holding my hand while making quiet calls, his voice low, efficient. I didn’t listen to the words. I just listened to the sound of him. His fingers wrapped around mine, thumb brushing over the back of my hand every few seconds, reminding I wasn’t alone.

And yet I knew,

I wasn’t supposed to need him.

I wasn’t supposed to care if he stayed or went, if he slept beside or walked out the door with that sa cold silence he used to carry like armor. That was the deal, wasn’t it? No strings. No promises. Just heat, just bodies, just distraction.

But now...

Now he was here. Still here.

Holding my hand when it was shaking. Catching before I collapsed. Carrying like I was sothing precious, not sothing broken.

And I hated it.

Because it made want more.

When I looked at him, so tired and quiet, when I asked if it was , if I was the reason he hadn’t slept, if I was the reason behind the shadows under his eyes.

Part of ... God, part of hoped it was.

Because if it was , it ant I mattered.

It ant maybe I wasn’t alone in this strange, awful ache that had taken root in my chest.

But he said it wasn’t. He said it was work. And just like that, I felt stupid again.

Stupid for wanting to be the reason. Stupid for hoping. Because if it wasn’t , then he didn’t owe anything and I didn’t have to need him. I didn’t have to fall.

But I already had.

Sowhere along the way between the way he held even after always finding new ways to make mad, the way he stayed, the way he didn’t say much but still made feel safe, I had let myself fall.

And now I didn’t know what to do with it.

So I pulled him close again, kissed him even when I shouldn’t have, begged him not to leave even when I knew I had no right.

Because if he left, I’d break completely. And I don’t know if I could put myself back together this ti.

But I still didn’t cry, I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not now. Maybe when I was alone. The tears would finally pour out without holding back.

I’d be strong. For Olivia. For the family I have left. For the mother I couldn’t save. For the girl I used to be.

Because breaking would an facing it. And I wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

The days blurred.

Grief moved like molasses—thick, heavy, inescapable. I told myself I was functioning. I got out of bed, I showered, I replied to ssages from the hospital. I even picked out the flowers for the burial.

But I didn’t cry.

Not really.

Not in front of Kael. I never did.

He stayed close. Too close. Like he was trying to catch sothing invisible slipping from my hands. Every ti I turned around, he was there—watching with those goddamn eyes like he saw right through .

And that terrified .

Because I had already broken the rules.