Chapter 28: The Things We Don’t Say

Emery’s POV

But either way, I kissed him back like he held the last strands that kept me to sanity.

The kiss was warm but not welcoming, it was Killian's way of dominating again and I let him. 

The kiss still lingered long even after the rain had stopped.

I could still feel the warmth of his lips on my, I could still feel his fingertips trace the outline of my curve, his hands at the back of my neck. I could still feel his grip on me like I was the only thing holding him to the earth. I had kissed him back, not because I had answers, but because I didn’t. 

Because for once, surrender felt like survival.

But survival wasn’t living.

I went to my room after the rain stopped, straight to the bathroom to dry myself up. I laid on the cold mattress with the light off and my hands still creasing the surface of my lips. I didn't feel the kiss was any different from the other dominating and demanding kiss ones we had shared before, but for some reason, my mind kept on replaying the scene till I drift to sleep.

Morning came early with its warm rays kissing my skin and the sound of birds singing like it was welcoming me to a new beginning.

I had just stepped out of the bathroom and sat in front of my dressing mirror still wrapped in a towel, with my fingers tracing the outline of my collarbone. I stared at the bruises that sat on it and some at my neck. There weren't bruises that were made from being harmed, but were made from being too touched, held too tightly, loved too fiercely.

But could I even call to love?

Could I?

Was it still love when it came with consequences? With watchmen always at my doorstep with danger as my shadow? When the only thing that was more frightening than losing someone… was being consumed by that same place?

‘Love is sacrifice' my inner voice whispered but I no longer felt that was what they meant when they created that phase. Such phases weren't meant for me and Killian

I was snapped out of my thoughts with the sound of my phone ringing. I hadn't had the chance to get to my phone before the call ended.

It started with a missed call, then came the second and the third.

I stared at the number that displayed on the screen for a long time but I didn’t recognize the number, but something in my gut told me to answer on the fourth call.

And I didn't but I wish I hadn’t.

“Ms. Sinclair?” A young female voice came from the other end of the line. “There’s been an incident. It’s about your mother.” The young lady said. She had called from a clinic.

I felt the warmth of the sun grow cold and the bird went silent. Chill ran down my spine.

“W-what's kind of incident?”

“We need you to come to St. Benedict’s. She was found unconscious this morning. It appears to be… a cardiac episode.”

“Cardiac episode?” I asked slowly.

I couldn't familiarize myself with the phrase. It sounded foreign and it didn’t register, at least not at first. It sounded like something you read in fine print. Something that happened to other people.

But not to her. Not to my mother.

Not to the only piece of my old life I hadn’t yet to lose.

I didn't remember if I had hung up, but all I knew was that I heard the sound of the phone hitting the floor, and my knees followed shortly. I heard a faint voice of the lady calling out to me. Well I guessed didn’t hung up

And then, that was all. I knelt there, just still. I couldn't hear a thing nor could I feel anything — I was just numb.

I didn't know how long I was there but it felt like eternity. Until Killian's sharp voice snapped me out of my daze. 

“Emery what happened?”

All I could do was shake my head. 

“She… she…” I choked out, trying to explain but I couldn't find my voice. I held my chest where my heart was located, squeezing in tightly and digging my fingers into it like I could reach out to my bleeding heart and hold it in my hands just to comfort it.

He knelt in front of me, his hands on my face. “Talk to me.”

“My mom…” I whispered. “It’s my mom… Something happened.”

He didn't make further inquiries from me about what happened, he just simply helped me to the bed and brought out a hoodie and pants for me to wear. While I was dressing, I heard him make calls, he stood there barking orders.

A few minutes later, we got to the hospital. The entire building was too cold and too white… too sterile.

I kept replaying our last argument in my head, the one to had with her when I went to visit Mia. I remembered there were tears on her, begging me not to go… to not go and stay with Killian. But I hadn't listened. I had believed I had no choice. Mia had held her back that day when I last visited before I slipped into Killian's world.

I should have called more but I hadn't, I should have visited more often, said I love you more often and stop trying to always argue with her. But I never stopped, it was fun but it wasn't so fun after all.

When she called, and asked how I was doing, I should have given her more details, should have told her more, I should have shared more fun memories, told her more about my routines but I had just shared fragments.

And I wasn't really sure there was enough time to still tell her. I wasn't sure she was going to listen enough

But I still hoped I would get a chance to tell her, I would get the chance to say those words more often to her.

The nurse led us down a hallway. Every step I took closer to the room, I felt my leg get weaker and weaker. 

“She’s in stable condition,” the nurse said, but it felt like she was trying to comfort me, to give hope. “She’s sedated for now.”

I just nodded numbly.

Killian’s hand pressed to my lower back as we stepped into the room. It was quiet. Machines beeped steadily beside her bed.

And there she laid on the bed, so small that the bed almost covered her whole and she was still, willingly accepting the bed.

This wasn't the mother I remember.

Because the mother I knew, usually walked through rooms like she owned the place and belonged to every room. But at the hospital room,she looked like a total stranger with different wires connected to her body and a breathing mask hung to get face like her body wasn't hers anymore

Grief did indeed come in strange and different waves. It would never make itself loudly heard and would never give a dramatic entry. It was drowning… It was drowning me slowly

“I should have been there,” I said aloud, not to anyone.

“You didn’t know,” Killian murmured.

“That doesn’t matter.”

He stepped beside me, his gaze steady. “You’re here now, that's all that matters.”

But I wasn’t sure that was enough.

I didn’t speak the entire drive back to the estate.

The rain had started again, and tapped on to the window like it was trying to find its way inside.

Killian stayed quiet the entire ride too. His hand rested between us on the leather seat. Not touching me and not forcing the closeness. He was just there waiting, hoping that I would reach out but I didn't want to.

When we got home, I didn't go straight to the room, I couldn't sleep. I went to the library and closed the door behind me and for once, I didn’t want silence to feel like a punishment.

I wanted it to feel like mine.

Killian came in hours later but I didn't turn around. I didn't not to

“You should eat,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

Killian became quiet but just for a brief moment

“She’ll be okay,” he added. “They’re monitoring everything closely.”

“You think this is about her?”

That made him stop.

“I mean… yes it's about her , I’m terrified for her. But this… this its killing, don't you think that it too much? It’s not just because she’s in a hospital bed. It’s because I have been through so much for the past few weeks, and I didn’t even realize it until now.”

His jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“But you did,” I said, turning to face him. “You built this world where I’m always protected, always watched, always owned. And I let you, Killian. I let you wrap your hands around my life and call it safety.”

His eyes darkened.

“That was not what I meant to do.”

“But that was what happened.” My voice cracked. “I don’t even know who I am in this version of my life. The fake fiancée. The girls with the hottest headlines. The glass cage. All of it… it’s swallowing me.”

“I was trying to keep you alive.”

“No. You were trying to keep me yours.” I snapped

He looked away then.

And for the first time, I saw it.

The fear underneath all that control.

“You think if I’m not near you, I’ll disappear,” I whispered.

He said nothing but kept mute. He knew I was right about everything and he couldn't say otherwise.

The argument between us stretched like a wire, ready to snap. The air was tense with neither of us ready to accept our fault and the only thing holding us was a tin line of sanity. But Killian seemed to be doing better at keeping his cool.

“I don’t want to be saved, Killian,” I said. “I want to be seen. For once. All of me. Not just the parts that make you feel powerful.”

“I do see you,” he snapped. “Every goddamn day, I see you. In every boardroom. Every decision. Every move I make, it’s been about you since the moment I saw you across that ballroom.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m drowning under your gaze?”

His chest rose with a sharp breath. “Because I don’t know how to love gently. I was never taught how. I only know how to keep. How to fight.”

“And I only know how to run.”

We stared at each other.

The worst of us laid bare.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “What if this is the best I can give you?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Instead, I walked over, until the space between us was almost nothing.

“I don’t need perfect,” I said. “But I need room to breathe. I need to be me. Not just your fiancée. Not just your fragile thing to protect.”

His throat worked like he was trying to swallow every word he hadn’t said.

And then—

“I'm afraid if I give you too much space… you’ll realize you don’t need me.”

The honesty in that almost undid me.

Because I had felt the same.

Afraid that if I stayed too long in his world, I’d forget how to live in mine.

We didn’t touch.

Not then.

But something in us shifted—cracked open.

This wasn’t a resolution.

But it was the start of one.

A bruise healing from the inside out.

That night, I sat by my mother’s hospital bed again, this time alone.

She stirred briefly—opened her eyes for a few seconds.

Her fingers moved against mine.

Weak, but still holding.

Still fighting.

Like me.

I held her hand tighter.

Because I wasn’t ready to give up.

Not on her.

Not on me.

Not even on Killian.