She left me alone after that — for how long, I didn’t know. Maybe an hour. Maybe more. I stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together fragments of time that no longer made sense.
Somewhere, deep in my chest, something still hoped he would come.
That he would explain.
That there was another truth hidden behind the nightmare burned into my phone.
But the other part of me — the quieter, crueler part — knew better.
And beneath all that, his face. Adrien’s. The man I thought I knew. The one who gave me two magical proposals. Maybe he proposed to her too... what if the proposal he used for me was for her? Maybe that was why he didn’t use my real name on the petals.
I turned my head toward the window. The blinds were half-open, letting in a washed-out morning light that didn’t feel real. The city outside blurred through the glass — indifferent, alive, moving on.
Why wasn’t he here when I woke up? Is he guilty?
Maybe he’s not coming. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe it was all true.Maybe he wasn’t coming because he was ashamed. Or tired of pretending. Or because she was there, right now, tending to him the way she always wanted to behind my back.
Kassel didn’t answer me about my baby.. Did I really lost them? I can’t seem to grieve yet, why?
The betrayal sliced deeper now, threading through the grief until I couldn’t tell them apart. I pressed a trembling hand to my abdomen again — to the empty space where a heartbeat should have been — and whispered, "I’m so sorry."
My chest convulsed, but no sound came out. Just air and pain and guilt that refused to fade.
Time moved differently after that — slow and jagged. A nurse came in once, changed my IV, and whispered something about keeping my strength up. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
The room grew dimmer as the sun began to fall or rise, I don’t know anymore. Light danced across the white tiles. Sun catchers. I stared at them until the edges began to blur again, exhaustion dragging me under.
And then—
A click.
The door opened softly — hesitantly.
I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. My body already knew the sound of his footsteps. Even before I turned, the air had changed — heavier, electric, like it remembered him before I did. That gravity. The warmth that used to be safety and now only burned.
When I turned my head, my chest squeezed so tight it hurt to breathe.
Adrien stood in the doorway.
The world seemed to tilt around the frame of him — tall, broad, dark suit wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in days. His tie was gone. His hands trembled just slightly at his sides. His face was pale, drawn, exhaustion carved into every line, but his eyes—
God, those eyes.
He looked like a man dragging himself through hell just to get to me. They were...hollow, sunken in their sockets, devoid of the familiar warmth, the playful glint, the fierce possessiveness I had once loved. Now, they were just shadowed chasms, reflecting back a pain that mirrored my own, yet felt utterly separate. He looked utterly broken.
For a second, I thought I imagined him. But then he moved closer, the sound of his breath heavy, ragged—like every inhale was an effort.
Why did he look like that? Why was he the one falling apart when I was the one who’d been broken open?
My heart twisted between anger and something that felt too much like longing.
I want to run to his arms and...and cry out my heart to him.
I’m not okay, I feel so scattered. All those memories we made are burning in my brain. My chest feels so so tight. Yet I want him to relieve me of it.
Damn. I love him. I love him so much it hurts.
He took a hesitant step into the room, then another. Each movement seemed to cost him, his shoulders hunched, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. I wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to claw at the injustice of it all, but my voice remained trapped, a choked sob in my chest. All I could manage was a silent, desperate stare, the question burning in my eyes: Why?
He stopped at the foot of the bed, his hands still trembling, clasping and unclasping. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His throat worked, his jaw tight. He looked like he’d aged ten years since I last saw him, his usually impeccably styled hair falling across his forehead, his eyes bloodshot and haunted — and still, he said nothing.
Just looked at me.
And I couldn’t stop thinking: why are you acting like this? Why do you look like you’re dying when it’s my world that’s ended?
Where was Dad? Leo? Aria? Why wasn’t anyone here? Did something happen to them too?
My voice trembled, but I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. The tears betrayed me instead, slipping soundlessly down my face. Even though he is killing me inside, I need him like the air I breathe.
"Bella," he whispered, the name catching in his throat. It was ragged, like ground glass.
Adrien took a single step forward. Then another.
And then—he dropped to his knees beside my bed.
He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I’m here," he whispered. "I’m so sorry. I’m here."
His voice... it sound so tired. They sound so hurt. I cant help but cry more. What on earth is this? Why me? Why am I so unlucky?
For a long moment I just stared at him, uncertain whether to pull my hand back or curl my fingers tighter around his. His skin was too warm, trembling. It felt wrong—the same palms that once held me steady now shaking against my own.
Is his love actually real?
Why did he waste all of my time?
Why didn’t death take me. It so hard to breathe.
I thought love would protect me. That loving him would be enough. That if I just held on, if I just stayed strong, everything would eventually make sense. But all it’s done is destroy me.
I didn’t sign up for this kind of love. The kind that makes you question your worth. The kind that leaves scars deeper than any wound.
Will it even matter he says?
I don’t want to hurt again.
I... I am scared.