“No!” I exclaim, and he looks at me, startled. “I want to go home,” I clarify.
Niall’s expression shifts from empathy to concern, his blue eyes scanning my face as if trying to decode what’s going on.
“What did he do?” he asks softly, his voice laced with worry. His eyes search mine, and I shake my head, unable to speak. “Tell me, talk to me,” he pleads, his tone gentle yet firm. The lump in my throat swells, making it harder to respond. I swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.
“I need to go home,” I whisper, desperation evident in my voice. He watches me for a moment, then nods silently.
We head to the elevators, and I’m grateful for the silence that envelops us. Niall doesn’t press me further, though I suspect it’s because he sees the tears streaming down my face. As soon as we step into the lobby, I lower my gaze, letting my hair fall forward to shield my face.
“What do you mean you brought her here already, Robert? She’s not here!” Alex’s voice shout across the room, stopping me in my tracks. He’s yelling at Robert, his tone sharp and accusatory.
“Niall,” I tug at his jacket and look up at him. “Make him stop. Robert hasn’t done anything wrong,” I beg, my voice trembling. Niall frowns but doesn’t argue.
“It’s you or him,” he says, and I let out a shaky sigh.
I can’t let Robert take the blame for my problems. I take a deep breath, summoning what little courage I have, and approach Alex. He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“I swear to God, if she doesn’t show up in-”
“Here I am,” I murmur, cutting him off. His intense green eyes snap to me, a mixture of relief, confusion, and concern swirling in them.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping forward to pull me into a hug. His embrace feels warm and secure, but I don’t return it. My arms hang limply at my sides, my mind replaying everything that had happened between us.
**”It’s her or your future.”**
“Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Alex asks, cupping my face in his hands. His touch is tender, his worry palpable.
I sob, my chest heaving. “Can we go home? I don’t feel well,” I manage to say. He studies my face for a moment before nodding.
He presses a kiss to my forehead and intertwines his fingers with mine, leading me to his car. The ride feels endless, every passing minute dragging painfully. Alex keeps glancing at me, asking vague questions, but I can’t focus on his words. I nod absently, staring at a fixed point outside the window.
When the car finally comes to a stop, I shake my head and glance at the front door. Alex opens the passenger door for me, but I remain frozen in my seat. I can’t move.
I don’t want to move.
“Love,” he calls softly, his voice cutting through my haze. The tenderness in his tone only makes the ache in my chest worse. I sob quietly, looking at him through tear-filled eyes.
It’s unbearable-how his mere presence can make me feel so whole and yet so shattered at the same time. His hands cradle my face, and the next moment, his arms envelop me in a warm embrace. I rest my cheek against his chest, tears soaking through his shirt as I cry uncontrollably.
“I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.
—
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air, and release it through my nose. “I… I want to go home,” I murmur, my voice barely audible.
Alex strokes my cheeks gently. “You’re home, love,” he says, his tone soft but firm.
I shake my head. “I want to go home,” I repeat, my voice trembling. His expression shifts-confusion, fear, and concern etched into his features.
“I don’t want to bother you anymore, Alex. I…” My voice falters, the words catching in my throat.
“You’re not bothering me. Don’t say that,” he growls, brushing the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t cry-you’re breaking my heart,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine.
His closeness is overwhelming, his touch gentle but consuming. I can’t do this. I can’t drag him into my chaos.
“Come on, let’s go inside and talk about this, okay?” he urges. I hesitate but eventually nod, following him out of the car. My legs feel like lead as I walk toward the entrance. Alex stays close behind, opening the door for me when we reach the house.
Inside, my heart pounds erratically. My hands tremble as I wipe the sweat from my palms onto my skirt. I sink onto the couch in the living room, my movements slow.
“Do you want some water?” Alex asks, breaking the silence.
“Please,” I whisper. He went into the kitchen and returns moments later with a glass of water. I accept it with a quiet “thank you” and sip it slowly, the cool liquid soothing my dry throat.
Alex remains standing, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on me. I set the glass on the table and offer him a weak smile.
“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” he says softly. His voice carries a weight that makes my chest tighten.
“I just miss my house,” I lie, avoiding his eyes. From the corner of my vision, I see his jaw clench, his hands running over his face in frustration.
I toy with the bracelet on my wrist, the one Alex had given me.
“You’re not being honest. I thought we agreed to be honest,” he says, his tone edged with frustration. “God, stop playing with that bracelet-you’re making me nervous,” he mutters. Startled, I drop my hands to my lap, resting them on my knees.
The tension in the room is suffocating. Alex kneels in front of me, his hands gently holding mine. “I just want to help you,” he whispers, his green eyes searching mine for answers I can’t give.
Tears spill over my cheeks again, and I look away, the weight of everything crashing down on me. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling. I don’t know how to make him understand without pushing him away.