MORE THAN A FEELING

Chapter 8: The Heart’s Tailor. II

Cassian didn’t leave. He couldn’t. After the roar of Marcus’s sports car faded into the distance, the Rosemont mansion felt cold, despite the expensive heating and the plush carpets.

He walked over to Aria’s vanity and saw the rose Marcus had sent earlier that day. It sat in a crystal vase, looking stiff and formal. Cassian hated it. It was a "perfect" flower for a "perfect" date, but it didn't suit Aria. Aria was like a wild jasmine—sweet, hidden, and needing the right environment to bloom.

He spent the next hour pacing the length of her room. Every time his phone buzzed with a notification, his heart jumped into his throat.

Was it her? Did she want to come home? Did Marcus try to kiss her?

He checked his watch: 8:30 PM. They would be at the gala by now. The flashing lights of the paparazzi would be blinding her, and the fake smiles of the socialites would be suffocating her. He could almost see her standing there, her hand gripping her clutch bag until her knuckles turned white, wishing she were anywhere else.

Restless, Cassian wandered into the hallway and bumped into Dante. The middle Rosemont brother was dressed in a robe, holding a glass of juice, looking surprised to see Cassian still there.

"Still here, Thorne?" Dante asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you’d be home sulking in your gym."

"I told her I’d wait," Cassian said defensively.

Dante leaned against the wall, his expression softening. "You’ve got it bad, man. You know, Silas thinks you’re a distraction, but I think you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. Just... be careful. She’s like glass right now. If you hold her too tight, you’ll break her. If you let her go, she’ll shatter on the floor."

"I'm not going to break her, Dante. I'm the one who's been trying to glue her back together for a year."

"I know," Dante sighed. "But remember, she has to want to be whole again. You can't force it."

Cassian went back into Aria’s room and sat on the window seat. He watched the moon rise over the city. To pass the time, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through their old photos.

There was a photo of them from two years ago— before the heartbreak, before the silence. They were at the beach, covered in sand, laughing so hard the camera was blurry. Aria’s head was resting on his shoulder, and she looked so happy. So safe.

I just want that girl back, he thought. I don't care if she never loves me the way I love her. I just want her to smile again.

At 10:15 PM, his phone finally vibrated. It wasn't a text. It was a call.

He answered on the first ring. "Aria? Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other end for a second, then a small, shaky breath. "Cassian? Can you... can you come get me?"

His blood turned to ice. "Where are you? What did he do?"

"I’m in the bathroom at the gallery," she whispered, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "He didn't do anything 'bad.' He just... he kept talking about how 'good' we look together for the cameras. He kept telling me to smile because his father’s business partners were watching. I felt like a doll, Cass. I felt like a piece of jewelry."

"I'm coming," Cassian said, already halfway out the door. "Stay where you are. Lock the door if you have to. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

"Cassian?"

"Yeah?"

"Please hurry. I just want to go home."

Cassian didn't even say goodbye to the brothers. He sprinted to his car, the engine of his Thorne-edition coupe roaring to life. He drove through the city streets like a man on a mission. The wealth, the empires, the family rules none of it mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the girl in the blue dress who was currently realizing that "perfect" wasn't what she needed. She needed someone who saw her when the cameras were off.