The Truth He Tried To Hide
781 Words
Ava didn’t sleep that night.
She watched the sky turn from deep velvet to a dull gray. The moon faded, but her thoughts did not. Damian’s reappearance had stirred up memories she thought she buried, but it wasn’t him that lingered in her chest. It was Jace.
Jace, who spoke so little but said so much with the silence.
Jace, who told her he didn’t want her to go — and somehow, that broke her more than any insult.
By morning, her face was puffy from crying, but her mind was strangely clear. She showered, dressed, and padded downstairs. The scent of coffee hit her first, then the sight of him at the dining table.
Still in yesterday’s shirt. Tie hanging loosely. Hair tousled like he hadn’t moved from that seat all night.
Jace Blackwood looked... human.
He didn’t look up when she entered. Just stared into his untouched mug.
“Rough night?” she asked, her voice softer than expected.
He glanced at her, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. There was no arrogance today. No shield.
Just him.
He stood slowly, walked to the window with quiet steps, then turned.
“I owe you something,” he said.
She folded her arms. “An apology?”
“A truth.”
That stopped her.
He didn’t move closer. He just stared at her like he was preparing for war.
“My father was a cold, calculating man,” he began. “He built his empire on control. People were assets. Including my mother. When she died, he remarried within two months. He never mourned.”
Ava’s chest tightened.
“When I inherited the company, he left one final rule. If I didn’t marry within a year, the board would declare me emotionally unfit to lead. And I would lose everything he left behind. Everything my mother built.”
She stepped forward slightly. “So the marriage... was for business.”
“Partly,” he said. “But I didn’t choose you just because you were convenient.”
Ava blinked. “Then why me?”
“Because you were falling too.”
The words struck her like a chord.
“I saw you — standing in the rain outside your father’s hearing,” he continued. “Everyone walked past you like you were invisible. But I stopped. I watched you for five minutes.”
Her lips parted. “You were there?”
He nodded once. “You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just stood there — proud and broken at the same time.”
She swallowed hard.
“I remembered thinking, ‘That woman has lost everything… and still stands like she’s holding the sky together.’”
Silence filled the room.
“I didn’t pity you, Ava,” he added, stepping closer now. “I respected you. And I thought... maybe two people who lost everything could build something new.”
Tears threatened her eyes.
She looked down. “Then why have you treated me like a stranger in this house?”
His voice lowered. “Because I’m terrified.”
She met his gaze.
“I’ve never cared about anyone who could break me,” he said. “But you—you walk into a room and I can’t breathe straight.”
Her heart pounded.
He stepped even closer. “When you smile... I forget what day it is. When you cry... I want to destroy the reason.”
Ava’s breath caught.
“Last night, when Damian said he still loved you,” Jace said quietly, “I felt something I’ve never felt before.”
She whispered, “Jealousy?”
“No,” he said. “Fear. Fear that I’d lose something I didn’t realize I was already fighting for.”
Their eyes locked. Inches apart now.
“Jace...” she started.
“I’m not asking you to forgive everything,” he said. “But let me try. Let me be better. Not for the contract. Not for the company. For you.”
She stared at him — this man who had never been soft, never been gentle — now standing before her like he was handing her the last piece of himself.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. Then slowly, slowly, she reached up — and brushed her hand lightly against his chest.
“I don’t know if I trust you,” she whispered.
He placed his hand over hers. “Then I’ll wait until you do.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he wiped it gently with his thumb.
The moment stretched. Neither moved closer. Neither kissed.
But in that space between their hearts, something bloomed.
Something warm. Something terrifying.
Something real.
- Writer
