His Second Chance Obsession

Chapter Two: XANDER'S POV

The ballroom detonates the second my mouth leaves hers.

A shockwave spreads through the room... Phones flash like strobe lights in a storm. Gasps ripple outward, turning into murmurs, then outright shouts. Someone, probably one of the twins—lets out a strangled “What the actual f**k?”

Kathryn’s screech slices through the buzz around us. High and venomous. I feel her glare like heat on the back of my neck.

I don’t even look at her. I don’t look at anyone.

I only look at Hayley... My Hayley.

She’s still trembling in my arms, the scent of cranberry punch and her vanilla shampoo flooding my senses. Her body was rigid against mine, her shimmering emerald gown was plastered to her skin like wet paint.

Her lips are redder than they were five seconds ago—swollen from the way I took them, claimed them... like I could pour ten years of regret into one kiss and make it enough. Her beautiful green eyes are wide, pupils blown, staring up at me like I’m a stranger who just pulled a gun to her head. Her hands are fisted in my tux lapels, knuckles white, but she hasn’t shoved me away yet.

Not yet.

I tighten my hold on her waist, fingers digging into the damp chiffon as if I can fuse her to me through sheer desperation. My forehead stays pressed to hers, our breaths crashing together—mine harsh and uneven, hers shallow and trembling. I can feel her heartbeat slamming against my chest, fast and frantic, matching the chaos in my own ribcage.

She’s real.

She’s warm.

And she hasn’t run...

That single fact is the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.

I want to say something... but the words stick in my throat. All I can do is hold her tighter, like if I let go she’ll vanish and I’ll wake up on cold pavement again, bleeding out alone in the rain...

The room keeps spinning around us. Finally, Ethan’s stunned laugh cuts through the noise. “Holy s**t, Thorne…” Rohit’s low whistle follows. “You’ve lost your damn mind!"

Maybe he's right... maybe I have. Because kissing Hayley Gordons in front of everyone is the least insane thing that’s happened to me today.

This morning... I died.

Not this eighteen-year-old version of me... this arrogant asshole who ruled Tyrell Academy like a god. The other me, Twelve years in the future. The thirty-year-old me. The one who married Hayley Gordons in a sterile ceremony after her mother married some billionaire and suddenly we were a perfect match. The one who spent the first few years of our marriage treating her like background noise. Like trash. Like something he could ignore until he needed arm candy for some fancy event or a warm body in his bed when the whiskey hit too hard. The one who continued bullying her even after our marriage.

The one who watched her love for him die in slow motion.

After every cold word. Every late night I came home smelling like someone else. Every time she reached for me and I turned away. The one—who stood in our penthouse kitchen the day she looked at me with dead eyes and said, “I’m filing for divorce... And I’m getting remarried.”

The one who watched her leave me... In my pride, I'd never even considered it a possibility that she could leave me.

I chased her down the street that night.

It was raining and she was ahead of me on the crosswalk, coat whipping in the wind, not looking back. I screamed her name until my voice was raw and my lungs burned. But she didn’t turn. She just kept walking, crossing the street to get to her car. And so I ran faster to catch up...

The truck came out of nowhere. Horn blaring. Tires screeching... Metal meeting flesh in a sickening crack.

My body lifted and for one endless second I was weightless... suspended in the rain.Then gravity remembered me and I hit the tarmac with a sickening crunch. Pain exploded everywhere. Blood filled my mouth, hot and thick. Suffocating me. Blood pooled under me, soaking through my coat. It was like a scene from a horror movie.

I lay there on the tarmac bleeding out alone in the rain.

No one came.

No sirens. No last-minute miracle. No Hayley... Just the cold seeping in and my heartbeat slowing to a sluggish thud. Yet, in that final, fading moment, one thought burned brighter through the pain.

Hayley.

I loved her... I was an i***t but I loved her and now it was too late.

I’d loved her the entire time and never said it. Never showed it. Never let her see anything but cruelty because I was too afraid of what softness might cost me. Too afraid of needing someone the way I needed air. Too blinded by my own pride and ego.

I would have given anything... everything. For one more chance.

One do-over.

One moment where I could look her in the eye and say I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I broke you.

I’m sorry I didn’t see you.

I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us sooner. My thoughts spiralled.

And then— the world went black.

Until I opened my eyes.

And I was in the back of a limousine.

Ethan was sprawled across from me, laughing at something on his phone. Rohit sat beside him, smirking as always. I hadn't seen either of them in years... we'd drifted apart after highschool.

I looked down at myself, I was dressed in a Tux. I stared at my hands.They were Younger... Smoother. No scars. No wedding ring.

I touched my face. There was no stubble. Rohit looked up and noticed me. "You're finally awake? You should switch on your phone. Kat's been texting me nonstop. She's your crazy girlfriend not mine..." Rohit sounded different, younger. My confusion deepened. "Where are we going?" My voice comes out hoarse.

Ethan and Rohit exchange puzzled looks. "Um—the winter ball? School event of the year? Seriously man—lay off the alcohol when we get there." Ethan chuckles.

Tyrell Academy's annual winter ball. That didn't make any sense. I attended that in highschool when I was—

Eighteen...My heart sped up, slamming against my chest.

I was eighteen again. It was impossible yet somehow I'd been given a second chance...

Immediately the limousine slowed down I shoved past Ethan’s confused “Dude, what the f**k?” and Rohit’s “Bro, slow down—” and ran. Through the lobby. Up the marble steps. Into the glittering ballroom like a man possessed. Because I was.

Had to know if this was real... If this was mercy or just another layer of hell.

And then I saw her and everything else blurred into the background.

The younger version of my Hayley, She was perfection... She stood near the drinks station, That wild auburn hair of hers sticking to her shoulders, chin lifted in quiet defiance. Her emerald eyes meet mine and go wide with shock.

She was here...

I didn’t even pause to think.

I crossed the room in seconds, ignoring rising murmurs in the background.

And I kissed her. The way I should have kissed her years ago. The way I should have kissed her every day of our marriage instead of turning away.

If this was a dream, I wanted to savor every minute and taste her one more time before It ends. And If somehow this was real... I would burn the world down to keep her this time. I open my mouth and say something desperate. My body burning with the raw need to be with her.

I watch Hayley’s gaze flicker to meet mine in surprise, searching for the trick, the cruelty she's grown to expect. She finds none. Only me—raw, bleeding, desperate. Something in her face cracks. A flicker of wary confusion so deep. It almost looks painful. She doesn't trust me and I don't blame her. Eighteen year old me was an asshole. The future me was also an asshole to be fair... But I was not that man anymore.

She takes one tiny step back and I feel it like a knife twist.

No.

Not yet.

I can’t let her slip away again.

My hand shoots out before I can think. My fingers wrapping around her wrist, firm but not bruising. She gasps, a small, startled sound that punches straight through my chest.

“Hayley—” My voice is wrecked, barely above a whisper. “Please.”

She freezes.

Her pulse hammers against my thumb. Wild, terrified, alive...

I don’t give her time to think. I don’t give myself time to think.

I yank her forward, gentle enough not to hurt, hard enough that she stumbles into me. My other arm bands around her waist, crushing her against my chest again.

I tilt her chin up with two fingers. And I kiss her again. This time it’s slower. Deeper. Less frantic claim and more aching plea.

The room might as well not exist. There’s only her, trembling, warm, real in my arms. Then I pull back, barely an inch. My forehead resting against hers again.

Her green eyes flutter open, something flickers in them for a second...

Then her palm cracks across my cheek.

The slap rings out, sudden and sharp. My head snaps to the side and pain blooms hot and bright across my face, but it’s nothing compared to the agony already living in my heart.

The room goes dead silent.

Even the quartet stops playing.

Slowly, I turn back to her, the sting settling into a dull burn across my cheek.

Hayley’s hand is still raised, trembling. Her eyes are wide with horror—at me, at herself, at what just happened. Her chest heaves and she looks like she might be sick. Or like she might hit me again.

She stares at me, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with something between fury and fear.

“Don’t." she whispers, voice cracking like thin ice. "Ever touch me again."

The words hang there, sharp and final.

Then she steps back, turns and walks away through the parted crowd without another word.

And just like that, the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted slips through my fingers all over again..