BONDS UNBROKEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chapter Eighteen

The first light of morning crept through the half-drawn curtains, spilling a pale glow across the living room. Briella stirred from the couch, her eyes swollen and heavy from the night before. She shifted slightly, only to feel the blanket draped carefully over her shoulders.

Her gaze flicked across the room.

Marcellus sat on the single chair opposite her, his jacket folded neatly beside him, his shirt slightly wrinkled as though he hadn’t moved the entire night. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped, head bowed. But his eyes—those stormy eyes—were wide open, watching her quietly as though he’d been waiting for her to wake.

“You stayed?” her voice came out hoarse, a whisper that carried more disbelief than curiosity.

“I wasn’t leaving you like that,” he replied softly, almost cautiously, as if afraid the wrong tone would break her again.

Briella sat up slowly, clutching the blanket tighter around her frame. She turned her face away, unwilling to meet his gaze for too long. The memories of last night—the shouting, the crying, the confessions—pressed against her ribs, fragile and exhausting.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” she muttered.

Marcellus leaned back in the chair, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. “Maybe not. But I couldn’t walk out knowing you’d cried yourself to sleep because of me… again.”

Silence stretched. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen filled the room.

Briella got up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders, and made her way to the kitchen. Her steps were slow, each one weighed down by a thousand unspoken thoughts. She busied herself with the kettle, pretending she didn’t feel his eyes following her every move.

“Coffee?” she asked flatly.

Marcellus blinked, taken aback by the casualness of it. “If you’re making one for yourself.”

Minutes later, she set a mug down in front of him without looking at him, then sank back onto the couch with her own.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Briella wrapped her hands around her cup, staring into the steam as though it held the answers to everything. Flashback after flashback kept hitting her—Genevieve’s laughter echoing in the halls, Marcellus’s old habit of sneaking her coffee before long study nights, the way he used to tease her until she smiled no matter how upset she was.

Her chest tightened. She sipped her coffee quickly, almost as if trying to swallow the memories down.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Don’t think that just because I listened to you last night, everything is fine now.”

Marcellus nodded, his jaw tightening, but his eyes never left her. “I don’t expect it to be. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. Not yet.”

“Not ever,” she shot back, her voice sharp again.

Marcellus’s throat worked. He nodded once more, accepting her words like a blow he had prepared for. “Then I’ll earn whatever place you’ll give me. Even if it’s nothing more than a chair across the room while you drink your coffee.”

That startled her—his humility, his steadiness. She looked at him then, really looked at him. He wasn’t the Marci she had known, but he wasn’t entirely gone either. There was still something in his eyes—something raw, pleading, sincere.

Her heart twisted painfully. She looked away first.

“Don’t call me Brielle anymore,” she said, her voice low but firm. “From now on, it’s just CEO Briella to you.”

The words stung her more than they stung him. But she had to say them. She had to keep her guard.

Marcellus’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers tightened around his cup. But then, to her surprise, he nodded again.

“Then I’ll call you CEO Briella,” he murmured. “But in here…” He pressed his hand briefly to his chest, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’ll always be Brielle.”

Briella’s breath caught. She stood abruptly, setting her half-finished coffee on the table. “You should leave now.”

Marcellus rose slowly, slipping his jacket back on. He didn’t argue. Didn’t beg. He just paused at the door, glanced back at her with eyes full of things he couldn’t say, and whispered, “I’ll see you at the office.”

The door closed softly behind him.

Briella stood in the middle of her living room, her hands trembling at her sides, her eyes wet again. She whispered to herself, almost angrily, “Why does he still call me that way…”

But deep down, her heart ached with how much she had missed it.

....

✨ End of Chapter Eighteen ✨