Chapter Seven: I Don’t Lose Quietly

I knew before anyone told me.

That’s the part that made it worse—not the confirmation, but the way my body reacted before my mind caught up. The tension in the house had shifted. Not sharp anymore. Settled. Like decisions had already been made without me.

Aire wasn’t slipping now.

She was gone.

I felt it in the way she avoided my eyes. In the way her phone never left her hand. In the way she walked like someone who had permission to want something dangerous.

And I knew exactly who gave it to her.

Marcus Cole.

---

I didn’t plan the confrontation.

I just drove.

His office building rose out of the city like a monument to control—glass, steel, power. Everything about it screamed man who always lands on his feet.

I signed in without hesitation, jaw tight, pulse steady. Anger didn’t make me reckless.

It made me precise.

Marcus was alone when I stepped into his office. Jacket off, sleeves rolled, attention locked on his laptop like he could still outwork the truth.

He looked up—and froze.

“Jalen,” he said carefully. “This isn’t appropriate.”

I shut the door behind me. “Funny. That’s exactly what I came to say.”

He stood slowly. “You need to leave.”

“No,” I replied. “You need to listen.”

Silence thickened.

Marcus straightened his cuffs like this was just another negotiation. “If this is about Aire—”

“It is,” I snapped. “And don’t say her name like you earned it.”

That landed.

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Lower your voice.”

“Or what?” I challenged. “You’ll ground me?”

He flinched—just barely.

“You crossed a line,” I said. “One you had no business even approaching.”

Marcus exhaled. “You don’t know everything.”

“I know enough,” I shot back. “I know she comes home quieter after being around you. I know she stopped looking at me like I mattered. And I know you let it happen.”

“I didn’t pursue her,” he said firmly. “And I didn’t touch her.”

“Congratulations,” I laughed bitterly. “You want a medal for stopping halfway?”

His eyes hardened. “Watch your mouth.”

“No,” I said. “You watch your role. You’re her best friend’s father. You’re supposed to be the adult.”

“I am,” he replied. “Which is why nothing happens unless everyone involved consents.”

I stared at him. “You mean Nia.”

“Yes.”

That was the confirmation.

My chest burned. “You put that on her?”

“She deserved the truth,” he said. “And the choice.”

“And what about Aire?” I demanded. “What choice did she get when you looked at her like she was grown enough to carry your feelings?”

Marcus stepped forward. “You think you’re the only one who cares about her?”

I leaned in, voice low. “I think you’re the only one who should’ve walked away.”

Silence roared.

Marcus finally spoke. “If Nia ever withdraws her approval, this ends.”

“That’s not enough,” I said. “You already changed her.”

His eyes flicked away.

I nodded. “Yeah. Thought so.”

I turned for the door.

“Jalen,” Marcus called.

I paused.

“This doesn’t make you her savior,” he said quietly.

I looked back at him. “No. But it makes me the only one willing to burn this down instead of pretending it’s controlled.”

Then I left.

---

Aire was waiting for me at home.

Not literally—she didn’t know I was coming. But I felt her presence the second I walked in. The house was too still. Too careful.

She was in the kitchen, barefoot, leaning against the counter like she belonged somewhere else now.

Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Jalen—”

“How long?” I asked.

She swallowed. “It’s not—”

“How. Long.”

She closed her eyes. “Long enough.”

That was enough.

“You let him choose you,” I said.

Her voice cracked. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It always is,” I snapped. “Older men don’t fall—they take their time.”

“That’s not fair,” she said, stepping toward me. “You don’t know him.”

I laughed sharply. “I know men.”

“And what about you?” she shot back. “You don’t get to act innocent.”

I stilled.

“That’s different,” I said.

“No,” she replied quietly. “It’s not.”

The truth sat between us—ugly and undeniable.

“I would’ve never hurt you like this,” I said.

“You already have,” she whispered.

That hurt more than anything Marcus said.

“I’m telling them,” I said.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Our parents,” I clarified. “Tonight.”

Her face drained of color. “Jalen, please.”

“You don’t get to beg now,” I said. “You made this choice in secret. I’m just dragging it into the light.”

“You’ll ruin everything,” she said.

“No,” I replied. “I’ll stop it from festering.”

She reached for me, panic breaking through her composure. “I love him.”

The words hit hard.

I nodded slowly. “Then you’ll survive the truth.”

---

Dinner was quiet.

Too quiet.

I waited until plates were halfway cleared before I spoke.

“There’s something you need to know,” I said.

Everyone looked up.

Aire’s hand trembled.

I didn’t look at her.

“Marcus and Aire are involved,” I said evenly. “Emotionally. With Nia’s knowledge.”

Silence exploded.

Their mother gasped. Nia froze. Marcus went rigid.

Aire stood abruptly. “I didn’t want it like this.”

I finally looked at her then—really looked.

“Neither did I,” I said. “But secrets rot people.”

The room erupted after that—voices overlapping, shock turning into anger, questions with no easy answers.

I stepped back, heart pounding but steady.

Because no matter how this ended—no matter who hated me after tonight—

I refused to be the one who watched her disappear and said nothing.

Some love fights quietly.

Mine didn’t.