Healing His Shadows

Chapter 7: The Lie Gets Heavier

-POV Elara

The drive back to the mansion felt longer than usual. Gelano’s hand stayed on my thigh the whole way, thumb rubbing slow circles like he was trying to erase what happened on the rooftop. His cologne filled the car—the same one that had been all over Gloria last night. I kept my eyes on the rain streaking down the window, twisting that damn ring around my finger until the skin underneath burned.

He didn’t say much at first. Just the low hum of the engine and the wipers slapping back and forth. When we finally pulled into the driveway, he killed the engine but didn’t get out. Instead he turned to me, that perfect boyfriend face back in place.

“Babe… about earlier,” he started, voice soft and careful. Incomplete denial. “It wasn’t what it looked like with Draven. I overreacted. You know how I get when I’m stressed.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just sat there, the leather seat cold against my scrubs, replaying Fletcher’s fingers hovering so close on the railing. Gelano’s grip on my thigh tightened a little, like he could sense where my mind had gone.

“Come on, Elara. Talk to me.” He leaned closer, hand sliding up to cup my cheek. “I saw you two up there and… I got jealous, okay? That’s all. You’re my fiancée. Of course I don’t want some rich asshole looking at you like that.”

Deflection loop. He always did this—twist it so he was the victim, so I ended up comforting him instead of the other way around. I pulled my face away gently and opened the car door. “Let’s just go inside.”

We walked into the foyer together. The mansion was quiet, lights low, maids already gone for the night. I headed straight for the stairs, but Gelano caught my wrist, pulling me back gently.

“Wait. Please.” His eyes were big and soft now, the charming mask fully on. “I know I’ve been distant lately. Work’s been crazy, family stuff, all that Voss pressure. But I’m here now. I love you. You believe that, right?”

I stopped on the bottom step. False exit—he was giving me the out, the chance to say yes and pretend everything was fine again. Part of me wanted to take it. The easy way. The one where I didn’t have to blow up my whole life.

“I saw the messages, Glenn,” I said quietly. “The perfume. The lipstick. Gloria’s story. I’m not stupid.”

There it was. The words hung between us. For a second his face flickered—surprise, then that quick recovery. He stepped closer, hands on my waist, pulling me against him like he could hug the doubt away.

“Gloria?” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Babe, that’s nothing. She’s been texting me about you, actually. Worried about how stressed you’ve been at the hospital. I met her for five minutes to talk about surprising you with something nice. That’s it. You’re overthinking again.”

Incomplete denial. He didn’t say it didn’t happen. Just made it sound small. Harmless. My fault for seeing it.

I pulled back a little, but his arms stayed around me. “Five minutes? With her in that dress? At the same hotel you’ve been ‘working late’ at?”

He sighed, forehead resting against mine. The deflection loop spun faster. “Okay, fine. I went there. But it wasn’t for her. Some guys from the family business wanted to meet somewhere private. Gloria was just… there. She offered to help smooth things over. You know how she is. Always trying to play peacemaker.”

Lies wrapped in just enough truth to make me doubt myself. I could smell the whiskey on his breath now, mixed with that perfume again. My stomach turned.

“Glenn…”

“Shh.” He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, voice dropping softer. “I’m sorry you saw it that way. I should’ve told you. But I didn’t want you worrying about more Voss drama. You already carry so much at the hospital. You’re my rock, babe. I can’t lose you over stupid s**t like this.”

False exit again. He was giving me the chance to forgive him, to be the “understanding fiancée” who let it go. His hands rubbed my back in slow circles, warm and familiar. The same touch that used to make me melt.

I closed my eyes for a second. The ring felt like it was cutting into my finger. “You swear it was nothing?”

His arms tightened around me. “I swear. Cuma iseng, sayang. Just blowing off steam with the guys. Gloria means nothing. You’re the one I’m marrying. The one I come home to.”

The words should’ve felt reassuring. Instead they landed heavy, like another layer of the same old lie. I nodded anyway, letting him pull me upstairs, letting him kiss me soft and sweet like nothing had changed.

But inside, the question kept getting louder.

How many more “cuma iseng” before I stopped believing any of it?

And how long until I stopped pretending I still wanted to?

End of Chapter 7