Sweet Hatred Chapter 316: Six weeks

ARIA

I hated him.

I hated him for always taking, for always deciding, for stripping of every choice I had left. First when he ended us... ended ... with nothing more than a handful of cruel words, and now, again, scooping out of that bed like I weighed nothing, like my protests ant nothing, like none of his words cut deep, even though he could barely look in the eyes while talking that day.

It wasn’t just control. It was worse. It was the way he always played hero, the way I let him... always arriving, always rescuing , as if that was the only way we knew how to exist together outside of the ruined sheets. And God help , I despised it. I despised how dependent I’d beco, how I waited for him even when I told myself not to, how every ti I fell, part of prayed for his shadow to appear in the doorway.

What was worse than pathetic? Whatever that word was, that’s what I felt. Because no matter how much I wanted to spit in his face and shove him away, I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to stop coming for . I didn’t want him to ever stop reaching out.

I told myself I hated his arms around , hated the steel trap of his hold, but the truth was, I hated myself more for finding comfort in it.

By the ti we reached the car, my fight had already drained out of . Niko was waiting, posture sharp as always, but when his eyes landed on , sothing faltered. Just for a second. Pity. That look that crawled under my skin and burned.

I wanted to scream at him not to look at like that. Not to see as broken, not to see as less. But what else was I? Pathetic. Pitiful. Always needing help. A graveyard in human skin.

I hated pity more than I hated Kael’s control. At least Kael’s control made feel alive enough to push back. Pity only reminded that my whole existence was one long tragedy.

I slipped into the front seat without a word. Kael’s voice cut through, low, commanding, as he exchanged the keys with Niko and issued orders I didn’t bother to follow. I didn’t care where we were going. I didn’t care what ca next. I just wanted to stop existing.

I pressed my head against the cool window, the glass anchoring , and let the silence swallow whole.

Not to punish him. Not even to resist.

But because I had nothing left to say. Nothing left to give.

That boy in my dream flickered behind my eyes again, unrelenting. A child I never knew. A child with his eyes. The ache clawed through my chest so sharp I almost wished Kael would stop the car, open the door, and leave by the roadside so I could bleed my grief out in peace.

But he wouldn’t. He never did. He’d keep coming back. And I... God forgive ... I didn’t know if I wanted him to stop. Even though I was still too much of a coward to say it to his face.

So I stayed silent. Staring at the blur of the world outside the window, drowning in it, hoping it could swallow too.

My silence was loud enough for both of us.

But what else could I do?

The hum of the car, the muted blur of the city slipping by, all of it vanished under the storm inside my chest.

Six weeks.

That’s what the doctor had said. Six weeks I’d been carrying Kael’s child without even knowing. Six weeks and I’d been seeking alcohol like water, hoping for it to numb the pain gnawing at , stumbling through nights too blurred to rember, punishing myself for sins that were already eating alive. My father begging for forgiveness while bleeding out.

But I did this. I killed what was inside . His child. My baby.

The thought cracked sothing open inside again. My heart split, bleeding grief that refused to clot, and with every new wave of it ca the mory of the dull cramps that still throbbed in my abdon, the soreness deep inside , the constant, awful emptiness like a cavity where sothing used to be. My body reminded even when my mind tried to bury it.

I pressed my hand against my stomach, gently, like I could hold the ghost of it there. But there was nothing left to hold. Nothing but the sharp edge of loss.

And God, it was different. This grief didn’t sit like the others. My mother’s death, I’d stuffed it down until I almost convinced myself I was fine. My father’s, I layered regret on top of it until it turned into a kind of numbness. But this... this cut deeper. It was the cruelest irony, to lose sothing I didn’t even know I wanted until it was ripped away. My eyes burned with tears unshed.

Because even though I never thought I’d be a good mother, even though I doubted everything about myself, I still wanted to dream. To imagine, just for a second, what it would have been like.

Now even that was gone.

By the ti the car slowed, I hadn’t even noticed. I was too far under. It wasn’t until a soft knock against my window startled that I blinked back to the present. Kael was there, outside the car, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the airport’s awning. He opened the door for , silent, steady, as if waiting for to decide if I’d move at all.

I didn’t trust my legs to carry , but I stepped out anyway. One step. Two. My body was brittle, fragile, threatening to collapse beneath .

I didn’t make it to the third before Kael scooped up again, arms iron-strong around . My protest rose in my throat, but it died there, smothered by exhaustion and the heavy ache of grief. I didn’t fight him this ti.

Instead, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the lights, from the people, from myself. His scent was sharp, familiar, and it hurt almost as much as it soothed.

I hated him for always carrying .

I hated myself more for letting him.

But right then, in that mont, I couldn’t do anything else.

So I clung silently, face hidden, trying not to unravel completely in his arms.