CHAPTER 35: THE MAN WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO STAY

My mother's question followed me long after I went to bed.

What will you do if he breaks your heart again?

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Alexander. I knew my mother wanted to protect me. She had watched me struggle through the contract, the secrets, and the pain of leaving the mansion. She had every reason to be cautious.

But I also knew that I couldn't spend my life making decisions based only on the possibility of being hurt.

I still loved parts of Alexander. I wanted to discover whether the man he was becoming could build something honest with me. That didn't mean I would ignore the past or abandon the life I had worked so hard to rebuild.

I had learned how to stand on my own. I wasn't going to forget that.

Alexander returned to the mansion shortly after ten. The security guard opened the front door, and he stepped into the familiar marble hallway. Everything looked exactly as it had before: the polished floors, the expensive furniture, the enormous chandelier, and the quiet that seemed to live permanently inside the house.

Yet something felt different.

He had spent the evening in a small apartment where the dining table was crowded, the chairs didn't match, and a teenager had asked him whether he owned a helicopter. Amelia's mother had questioned his intentions without fear, and Daniel had laughed at him without worrying about his position.

Nobody had tried to impress him.

Nobody had asked for anything.

They had simply allowed him to sit at their table.

He removed his jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. The memory of Amelia's mother thanking him for coming returned to his mind.

He had spent years buying gifts, arranging favours, and using money to make difficult conversations easier. He understood how to negotiate respect, how to secure loyalty, and how to make people agree with him.

But he didn't know what to do when someone offered him kindness without expecting anything in return.

It made him uncomfortable.

He went into his study and loosened his collar. His phone rested on the desk. Amelia's name was at the top of his recent conversations.

He wanted to tell her he had enjoyed the evening. He wanted to tell her that sitting with her family had made him feel something he couldn't explain.

Instead, he put the phone down.

For once, he didn't want to turn his feelings into another message she might feel obliged to answer.

The following day, I noticed his silence.

Alexander usually sent a short message in the morning, but there was nothing. I didn't mind that he was busy. What bothered me was the feeling that something had changed after dinner.

By lunchtime, I decided to ask.

Me: Are you all right? You seem quiet today.

His reply came several minutes later.

Alexander: I'm fine. Just thinking.

Me: About what?

Alexander: Last night. Your family. A few things I haven't understood about myself.

I read the message twice.

Me: Would you like to talk about it?

Alexander: Would you mind meeting me later? Somewhere quiet. I don't want to interrupt your work.

We agreed to meet at a small park not far from my apartment after my shift.

When I arrived, Alexander was sitting on a bench beneath a large tree. He stood as soon as he saw me.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello.”

I sat beside him. For a moment, we watched people walking along the path. A little boy was chasing pigeons while his father called after him, and an elderly couple sat near the fountain.

“You've been quiet,” I said.

“I know.”

“Did something happen after you left our apartment?”

“No. That's the problem.”

I turned toward him.

He gave a small, humourless smile. “I went home and kept thinking about your family. Your mother questioned me, Daniel made fun of me, and you all carried on as though I was just another person sitting at the table.”

“Were you expecting us to bow?”

He laughed softly. “No. I suppose I expected to feel more comfortable.”

“Why didn't you?”

He looked down at his hands.

“Because I didn't know what I was supposed to give them in return.”

I waited.

“Your mother welcomed me into your home after everything I did to you. Daniel showed me something he was proud of. Your family shared their evening with me. I kept thinking I should do something for them. Pay for something. Arrange something. Make their lives easier.”

“Alexander, they're not expecting payment for dinner.”

“I know that now.”

“Do you?”

He looked at me.

“I don't know how to accept kindness without feeling that I owe something in return,” he admitted. “I think I've been that way for most of my life.”

I softened, but I didn't immediately reach for his hand.

“Relationships aren't business agreements,” I said. “You don't have to pay for your place in someone's life. You don't have to earn every kind word with a favour.”

“I understand the words. I'm still learning how to believe them.”

“Then learn. But don't make me responsible for teaching you everything.”

He nodded.

“I don't expect you to fix me.”

“Good. Because I can't.”

“I know.”

He leaned back against the bench and looked up through the branches.

“My father rarely showed affection,” he said. “When I was a child, I thought that was normal. He believed success was proof of worth. If I achieved something, I received approval. If I failed, I was reminded that someone else would have done better.”

“Was your mother different?”

“She tried. But she couldn't always protect us from him. She would sit with us after dinner and ask about our day. Sometimes my father would interrupt and turn the conversation into a lesson about discipline.”

He paused.

“I remember winning a school competition when I was twelve. I was so excited that I ran home to tell him. He looked at the certificate and asked why I hadn't won first place.”

My chest tightened.

“I'm sorry.”

“I spent years trying to become someone he couldn't criticise. Eventually, I stopped caring whether he was proud of me. I only cared about winning.”

“And Sebastian?”

Alexander was quiet.

“We competed over everything. Sometimes I think we were both just trying to find a place in a family that didn't know how to give us one without making us fight for it.”

He rubbed his thumb against his palm.

“Maybe that's why I became so controlling. If I could control the situation, nobody could surprise me. Nobody could leave before I was ready.”

I listened carefully.

“But people aren't situations,” I said.

“No. And you're not something I can manage.”

“Exactly.”

He turned toward me. “I'm trying, Amelia.”

“I can see that. But trying doesn't mean you won't make mistakes. What matters is what you do when you make them.”

“I know.”

“And you need to find a way to deal with your past that doesn't depend on me. You should talk to someone who can help you understand it properly.”

He considered my suggestion.

“I've thought about speaking to a therapist.”

“Then perhaps you should.”

“I will.”

I believed he meant it, though I knew that following through would matter more than saying it.

We sat quietly for a while. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, and the noise of the city seemed far away.

Then Alexander spoke again.

“There's something I'm afraid of.”

“What?”

“That one day you'll realise you're happier without me.”

I looked at him.

“You might be happier without me,” he continued. “You have your work, your family, and your own plans. You don't need my money or my name. Sometimes I wonder what I can offer you that won't eventually become another burden.”

I took a slow breath.

“Alexander, I didn't choose you because you had something I needed. And I'm not staying because I'm afraid of losing what you can provide.”

“I know.”

“But I can't promise I'll never walk away. If we build something together, it has to be because we're both happy in it.”

He nodded, although I could see how difficult those words were for him.

I reached for his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Are you willing to fight for this relationship without trying to control its outcome?”

He looked at our joined hands.

For once, he didn't answer immediately.

Then he lifted his eyes to mine.

“Yes,” he said. “Even if that means accepting that the choice will always be yours.”