Thirteen

Zachary POV 

There was silence. I looked at her, waiting for an answer as she hesitated for a while.

“The man who chose me without hesitation.”

I scoffed. She replied happily, even though I could feel something strange in her statement.

“You expect me to believe you are happy?” I asked as I watched her closely.

“I don’t care what you believe,” she snapped.

“You are just trying to hurt me,” I said calmly.

“And you deserve it,” she replied without hesitation.

The air thickened as the atmosphere felt strange.

“You think this man can give you what I could?” I asked coldly.

“He already has,” she replied almost immediately.

“And what’s that?” I pressed forward.

“Peace,” she replied calmly.

The word cut deeper than anything else.

“You will get bored,” I muttered. “You crave fire.”

“I crave safety,” she replied.

“You used to crave me,” I said.

“I used to mistake chaos for passion,” she said coldly.

I stepped closer again, lowering my voice. “You still look at me.”

“And I see everything I escaped,” she defended without emotion attached.

“Don’t lie to yourself.” I feel sad.

“I’m not the one lying,” she said.

“Then why are you shaking?” I challenged myself as I watched her closely.

“I’m not shaking because I want you,” she snapped. “I’m shaking because you remind me of every night I felt small, sad, and troubled.” 

“You treated me like a slave, trash, and like I was worthless.”

“That’s not fair!” I said calmly as I felt bad listening to her. “I never meant any of that.”

“Neither was loving you fair,” she replied calmly. “You meant everything you did to me.” 

My hands curled into fists. “If I had known you would end up throwing my sacrifice in my face, I wouldn’t have saved you,” I said, getting fed up with her attitude.

She went still. “Saved me?” she repeated softly.

“Yes, I did save you,” I repeated.

She laughed bitterly. “You didn’t save me. You claimed me.”

“I fought for you!” I reminded her immediately.

“You fought to own me,” she countered.

“That’s not true!” I defended as we both looked at each other.

“It is,” she said, stepping closer now, her eyes blazing. “And do you know what I saw at that moment? When you grabbed that drunk man by the collar?”

“What are you talking about?” I was confused about what she was trying to say.

“I saw you,” she replied.

My stomach tightened. “The same rage. The same entitlement. The same belief that you could do whatever you wanted,” she poured out coldly.

“That man hurt you!” I looked at her.

“And you think you didn’t? You think you are a saint?” she expressed her displeasure.

Her words landed like thunder as they pierced my heart deeply.

“I am nothing like him,” I growled, defending myself. “I only came to protect you.”

“You are,” she whispered. “Different face, different power, but same behavior,” she alleged.

The accusation hung between us, and the atmosphere seemed tense.

“I would never degrade you,” I said quietly.

“You already did,” she said calmly as I could see the hurt in her face.

“I loved you,” I confessed even before I could hold myself.

She was silent for a while, observing me critically. “You loved possessing me.”

“I would have given you the world!” I said emotionally.

“I never asked for the world!” she cried. “I asked for you, but you never cared.” 

There was silence, heavy and suffocating.

“And you chose something else,” she finished.

My voice dropped to a near whisper. “If you walk away now, there’s no coming back,” I said, my voice low but full of fury.

“There was no coming back the day you let me fall,” she said.

“You are making a mistake,” I murmured, almost like a whisper.

“No,” she said gently. “I already made it once. I won’t repeat it.”

“You think this fiancé will protect you from me?” I said, taking a deep breath. You belong to me, and I'm going to get you back because I'm the only one who can protect you,” I said confidently.

Her gaze hardened. “I don’t need protection from you, anyone, because I can do it.”

“You sound confident,” I said.

“I am,” she admitted.

“You are not afraid?” I asked.

“Not of you,” she said without thinking twice.

The words stung more than hatred would have.

“Go back to your nagging wife,” she added coolly. “Maybe she will still believe your lies.”

“Don’t speak about Bella,” I said, almost like a warning.

“Why?” She challenged me. “Does the truth hurt?”

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, trying to hide my feelings.

“I know enough,” she said immediately without taking her gaze from me.

“Bella is my responsibility,” I said calmly.

“And I was your weakness,” she replied, almost like a whisper.

“No,” I said firmly. “You were my strength,” I said, trying to convince her.

“Then you should have fought harder,” she said silently.

Her eyes softened for just a second, and in that second, I saw it. Pain buried deep.

“You don’t get to want me now,” she whispered. “Not after everything.”

“I never stopped,” I said slowly.

“You should have because it's late already.” 

“Livia,” I called silently.

“Goodbye, Zachary,” Livia said as she turned again to leave.

This time, I didn’t call her back; I stood as I watched her walk away. Watching every one of her steps coldly.

Every step felt like a verdict, a pain, and it seemed a part of me was leaving me entirely.

She didn’t look back, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I had truly lost her or if she had finally escaped me.

Different thoughts began running through my mind, from the words she said, by choosing her father over

 me, and also comparing me to the drunkard. Saying I'm not different from him.

I looked at her as her shadows faded away, my legs feeling too heavy to take a step.