Chapter 383: Half drowned pt 3
I walked without knowing where I was headed, my shoes splashing in shallow puddles, the city blurring around me, lights smearing into long, watery streaks, cars moving like shadows, voices muffled by distance.
My mind felt empty and loud all at once. Every step hurt in a way I couldn’t explain, like something invisible was tugging at my chest, like I’d been hollowed out and left to echo.
Sarah’s words still hung in my head, looping, twisting, poisoning everything good that used to be simple. Kael’s face too... that expression when he looked at me, like I’d shattered something sacred between us. It kept replaying, over and over, until I couldn’t tell if I was angry or just broken.
I didn’t even realize I was crying again until I tasted salt through the rain. My vision went hazy, the kind of blur that wasn’t just from water but exhaustion... the bone-deep kind that came from holding too much, for too long. I wiped at my cheeks but it didn’t matter; the tears just kept coming, mixing with the rain.
It wasn’t fair... that was the thought that kept breaking through. It wasn’t fair that no matter how hard I tried to make things right, it all just fell apart again. I’d lost a baby I didn’t even get to hold. I’d hurt the man I loved. I’d been betrayed by the one person I thought would never hurt me.
And suddenly I missed my mom. Not in that casual, passing way I sometimes did... this was the kind of ache that made my chest seize up, made me want to curl into the smallest version of myself and just disappear into her arms.
I wanted her to tell me I wasn’t a bad person. That I hadn’t ruined everything. That I wasn’t impossible to love.
But she wasn’t here. And the realization hit like cold air against a wound... sharp, merciless, final.
A sob tore out of me before I could stop it. I pressed a hand to my mouth, standing there in the middle of the street, trembling under the thin veil of rain, trying to keep myself from falling apart completely. People passed... some stared, some didn’t... but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.
I just wanted to go home.
I just wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay.... even if it was a lie.
So I kept walking, one step after another, slow and small, until the world around me dimmed into silence and the only sound left was my own uneven breathing and the rain whispering against the pavement...
....
The stairwell felt heavier with each step, the air damp and still clinging to the back of my throat.
By the time I reached my flat, my clothes had dried in uneven patches, and the rain in my hair had turned cold against my scalp.
The whole walk home, I’d carried this small, fragile hope, the kind you’re ashamed of but can’t stop nursing anyway, that maybe Kael would be there, waiting in front of the apartment building, soaked from the rain like he couldn’t bear being apart either.
And when I saw a car parked by the curb that looked like his, my heart actually skipped, stupid and desperate. But it wasn’t his. The driver’s side door opened, and some stranger stepped out instead. I stood there staring, my chest tightening like I’d just been caught in a lie I’d told myself.
It was pathetic, really, wanting him so badly even when everything between us felt cracked and bleeding. But I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t holding on to that want.
I wiped at my face with shaky fingers, tried to smooth my hair down, pressed my palms into my bag to hide how much they trembled. I didn’t want Olivia to see me like this. I didn’t have the strength to explain.
When I knocked, the door opened almost instantly, and there she was, Olivia, with her surprised, kind eyes widening as she took me in. For a second I expected the questions, the worry, the soft scolding that I deserved. But she didn’t say anything like that.
Instead, she just looked at me and said quietly, "Aria, my goodness... you’re going to get a cold," before taking my bag out of my hand.
Something in me broke a little more at her gentleness. I managed a small nod and stepped inside.
And then I saw him.
Kael. Sitting on the couch with a small pink towel that looked like mine, swung over his shoulder. His clothes drenched, rainwater dripping off the ends of his hair, his eyes shadowed and unreadable until they lifted and found me.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Olivia’s nervous voice and footsteps faded as she disappeared into the kitchen, the faint sound of a kettle filling with water the only thing grounding me.
He stood.
I froze, my throat tight, my mind caught between wanting to run to him and wanting to disappear. But before I could step back, he crossed the space between us and pulled me into him, into his warmth, into his scent, into that familiar quiet that always came with him.
His arms were strong around me, and his breath brushed against my neck when he whispered, voice trembling, "I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you."
That was all it took. The tears came again, harder this time, shaking through me until my knees almost gave out. I clutched at his shirt, crying into the damp fabric. "Don’t," I managed between sobs. "Don’t say that. It’s me. I should be the one apologizing. I should’ve told you. I just... I didn’t know how."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands framing my face, rough thumbs wiping away the tears as fast as they fell. His eyes were glassy, grief and guilt swimming beneath the calm he always tried to wear.
"I’m sorry too," he said, his voice low, raw, almost broken.
And I cried harder. Because hearing that from him, someone who almost never said the word sorry, made the pain and love and everything in between collapse inside me all at once.
I leaned into his touch, letting myself unravel in his hands, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mixing in the space between us.
When he pulled me close again, it wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t wild, it was something quieter, something that felt like breathing after being underwater too long.
I didn’t even remember deciding to move, only that somehow we were walking toward my room, that his hand never left mine.
The door closed behind us with a soft click, and in that small sound the whole world seemed to hush. The rain outside had dulled to a faint shower and his eyes, still rimmed with that ache found mine before I could say anything.
Then he kissed me.
His lips were cold from the rain, but his hands were warm when they cupped my face, when his thumb brushed beneath my jaw as though he was memorizing the shape of me again. I could feel everything he couldn’t say spilling through the space between us.
I tried to whisper an apology against his mouth, but he shook his head, catching the words before they could exist, and kissed me again, deeper this time, slower, until my chest felt like it might split open from all the things I hadn’t said either.
At some point, we found our way to the shower, the air thick with the faint scent of soap and rain and something softer I couldn’t name. The water ran over our skin, washing away the weight of the night, the words, the grief that had crusted over everything between us.
I remember his forehead against mine beneath the steady rush of it, his breath shaky, his hands tracing my shoulders as though to convince himself that I was real, that I was still here. And I let him, because I needed that reassurance too.
Later, wrapped in the quiet of my room, the lights dim, a blanket tangled around us, I lay against him, his body beneath mine, his heartbeat slow and steady under my ear. The world outside could have fallen away, and I don’t think I would have noticed. His fingers threaded through my hair, smoothing it back, following the curve of my spine in slow, absent patterns that calmed me in ways I didn’t know were possible.
"You know I had a dream," I whispered into the silence, the words trembling out before I could think. "When... when I was in the hospital. When it happened."
He didn’t move, but I felt his breath catch, his hand stilling at the small of my back.
"I dreamt of you and me," I continued, my voice a fragile thing, "and a little boy. He looked like you. Same eyes. Same quietness. Every day since then I’ve wondered how different things could’ve been... if maybe the baby would’ve survived, he really would’ve looked like you."
His hand moved again, tracing my spine as though the motion kept him from unraveling. "I think I’d rather he take after you," he murmured after a long pause. "One of me is already enough. He would’ve had the Roman blood. That’s curse enough."
I lifted my head at that, just enough to look at him, the shadowed lines of his face soft in the low light, the heaviness in his eyes. "Don’t say that," I whispered. "You’re not like them, Kael."
He gave a small, almost bitter laugh, one that barely reached his eyes. "I’m not so sure about that. You don’t know me as well as you think."
"Yes, I do," I said, firmer this time, because I needed him to believe it. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough. I know the man I fell in love with isn’t like them. I know you try so hard not to be."
Something flickered behind his eyes then, something fragile and bright, like the sun trying to push through rainclouds. His mouth parted slightly, like he wanted to speak, but nothing came.
So I filled the silence. "You don’t have to tell me everything now. I’ll wait," I said. "Until you’re ready."
For a moment, he just looked at me. And the look, it felt like it could undo me completely. His eyes softened, burning in that quiet, reverent way that felt like both worship and ache, like he was memorizing the shape of me in case I disappeared. There was so much love there, it almost hurt to see it.
Then his hand slid up the back of my neck, pulling me down until his lips found mine again, tender this time, slow, deep, as if the kiss itself were a promise neither of us dared to speak.
The blanket slipped. The rain fell softer. And the last thing I remembered before the light went out was his hand at my waist, his breath against my ear, and the sound of both our hearts finally beating in time.