All Chapters of Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More : Chapter 31 - Chapter 37

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, its sound faint but sharp in the silence. Elijah slipped out of bed with practiced quiet, careful not to disturb the rhythm of Gabe’s breathing. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow spilling under the office door. He moved barefoot, every step slow, deliberate, like he was walking into enemy territory instead of across the polished floorboards of Gabe’s home. His heart thudded in his chest. Not from fear of being caught though that risk was real but from the truth he was afraid to find. The office smelled like coffee gone cold and old leather. Stacks of books lined one wall, their spines neat and ordered. On the desk sat framed photographs frozen smiles of Gabe with his old colleagues, snapshots from a life before Elijah had reentered it. And there, half-closed, glowing faintly in the dark, was Gabe’s old laptop. Unlocked. Elijah hesitated only for a moment before pulling the screen open. The glow lit his face, pale in the

The apartment was quiet when Elijah came in, too quiet for the storm inside his chest. He found Gabe in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, rinsing dishes under the steady rush of water. He was humming low, some old tune Elijah half-recognized but couldn’t place. Like nothing had changed. Like Elijah’s world hadn’t cracked wide open. “Hey,” Gabe said without looking up. “You eat?” Elijah didn’t answer. He stood there in the doorway, frozen. Watching him. Watching the way Gabe’s shoulders moved when he scrubbed the plate, the way his bare feet shifted against the tile. Ordinary. Familiar. Safe. Or at least, that’s what it used to mean. Now every gesture felt sharpened, every detail a weapon. “Gabe.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough. Gabe turned. And whatever smile he’d been carrying slipped right off his face. Something in Elijah’s tone had warned him. “What is it?” Elijah lifted the crumpled printout in his hand. The paper shook, though his grip was iron. “I know.”

The sun was already high when Elijah came back. Light poured across the penthouse like it was trying too hard bright, almost cruel, as if the day itself didn’t care that the night before had ripped something open between them. Gabe hadn’t moved. He was still in the same chair, same clothes, same hollow stillness. His eyes were red, not from sleep but from the lack of it. He looked like a man who had been sitting in silence so long that even his heartbeat had slowed to match the ticking of the clock on the wall. When the door clicked open, his head lifted. He didn’t speak. He didn’t rush forward. He just looked at Elijah like a prisoner waiting to hear if the verdict was life or death. Elijah closed the door behind him with a quiet finality. His chest rose and fell, calm on the outside, storming on the inside. In his hand was the black folder. The folder Gabe had hidden. The one that carried Arthur Vale’s handwriting, his threat, his promise. Gabe’s eyes dropped to it immed