Secrets I've Held in My Heart

Chapter 22 : Ava

In the dimly lit bedroom, Christian's face bore the remnants of a long and challenging day, a dull and worried expression etched across his features. But as the seconds ticked by, he summoned a weary smile and slowly began to unbutton his cuff.

"Today was quite hectic, wasn't it?" He attempted to lighten the heavy atmosphere, but it didn't seem to help. "So much drama," he added with a casual shake of his head, acknowledging the tumultuous events we had endured. "But you know what? A true player never gives up. Tomorrow, you can cook again and make everyone a fan of your meal. I'm 100% sure you'll do much better than today."

"So," a soft sob quivered through my sentence, betraying the fragility of my emotions. "You agree that today's pasta was terrible. A nightmare."

The little bit of colors that remained in his face vanished, replaced by a pallor that mirrored the gravity of the moment. He started to stammer, his words coming out in hesitant fragments. "I... I never said that, though. Your pasta was great. It was just a tiny bit spicy, but other than that, everything was perfect."

When Christian mentioned the word "spicy," it reminded me of the moment when he bravely ate the spicy pasta, despite his low tolerance for spice, just to support me and prevent any criticism.

His gesture was unnecessary but heartwarming. I couldn't help but rise from the floor, my emotions overwhelming my previous distress. I approached him, my voice trembling with emotion as I said, "Oh, Christian…" My arms enveloped him in a warm, reassuring hug. "You didn't have to do that. Please, never hurt yourself for me. You matter more to me than what others think."

At first, he didn't return the hug, his hesitation evident in the way he held himself. But then, slowly and with genuine warmth, his arms wrapped around my back, creating an embrace that conveyed both comfort and reassurance. "I'm sorry for Martha's rude behavior. She shouldn't have said that." His apology resonated with sincerity.

Lost in the comfort of his arms, I closed my eyes and replied, "It's okay. I don't care about what she said."

He pulled back slightly, a furrow forming on his forehead as he studied my face with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Then why were you crying?"

My hesitation hung in the air, the weight of his question pressing on my heart. My gaze dropped to the floor, searching for an answer that would shield my vulnerability. "It's nothing…" I started, my voice faltering. But when I summoned the courage to meet his gaze once more, I found loyalty and a profound desire to understand reflected in his eyes. Christian had always been my human lie detector, capable of unraveling my thoughts with a mere glance. Despite my best efforts to conceal the truth, it seemed impossible to deceive him.

For a moment, I remained locked in a silent battle with my own emotions. The truth lingered on the tip of my tongue, poised to escape, but I couldn't bring myself to utter it. The pain, the insecurity, and the fear I had been harboring were too raw, too personal to share in that moment. So, I simply lowered my eyes again and fell into a tense silence.

For a few seconds, silence enveloped the room, a heavy curtain that separated us. Then, Christian's gentle touch cupped my chin, lifting it until our gazes intertwined. "Tell me, moonlight. Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't," I countered, my instinct to deflect and protect myself driving me to evade his question. I jerked my chin away from his fingertips, turning my back to him in a desperate attempt to escape the feeling of falsehood that lingered.

"Fine," he sighed softly, relenting for the moment. He moved to stand in front of me, his warm hand once again cradling my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "If you don't want to answer that question, then I'll ask an easier one." His eyes bore into mine, his touch gentle but unwavering. "Do you still love Jonas?" The question hung in the air, a sudden and unexpected chill that sent a shiver down my spine, exposing the depths of my emotions and the secrets I had tried so hard to keep hidden. The secret that I'd held in the deepest corner of my heart.

"It doesn't—"

Christian's interruption was firm, his patience wearing thin. "I want a simple 'yes' or 'no.'"

"Christian, please, listen…"

He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes momentarily, gathering his composure, and then fixed his gaze upon me once more, cutting through my attempts to evade his questions. "DO YOU STILL LOVE JONAS?"

"YES!" I blurted out, my voice carrying the weight of my emotions. "Yes," I repeated more softly. "I still love him. But, Christian—" I began, wanting to explain the complexity of my feelings and my efforts to move forward, but he swiftly posed another question.

"If we weren't married, would you believe his excuse and marry him?"

His words struck me like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, I was rendered speechless, caught between the past and the present, between love and commitment.

"Yes, I would," I admitted, but the truth was, it was merely a hypothetical scenario, one that existed in a universe where I wasn't married to Christian. The desire to give Jonas a chance battled with the equally strong wish to nurture our marriage, but I struggled to express this complex web of emotions.

Before I could continue, he interrupted me once more, his interruptions now becoming the excuse I needed to avoid revealing my innermost thoughts. Even if he had allowed me to speak, I wasn't sure if I would have found the courage to say what was in my heart.

"So, our marriage is the biggest obstacle to your love," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with sadness as he delved into his thoughts. But what came next caught me completely off guard. He closed his eyes, rubbed his face wearily, and then uttered the words that hung in the air like an ominous cloud. "I think we should get a divorce, Ava."

The room seemed to close in around me as the weight of his words settled, leaving an unsettling silence in their wake.

"What? Christian, no," I protested, my voice trembling with anxiety. "I didn't mean—"

"I'm your friend before your husband, Ava," he interjected, his tone filled with determination. "A friend is supposed to support you on your journey of love, not be the only obstacle preventing you from pursuing it."

"Christian, no. You're not an obstacle—" I began, but he cut me off once more, his resolve unwavering.

His strong grip on my head pulled it gently toward his lips, and he placed a tender kiss on my forehead. "I love you, Ava, and I always will," he whispered, his words carrying the weight of his emotions. "Your happiness is the only thing that matters to me. If your happiness is with Jonas, then you should be with him."

Tears welled in my eyes as I grappled with the profound love and selflessness he displayed in that moment, torn between the bonds of marriage and the call of my heart.

Christian and I had said 'I love you' countless times, but it had always been as friends, giving off a friendly vibe. But this time, it felt different. Was I delusional, or did he really love— NO! It couldn't be possible. He didn't love me the way I was thinking right now. If he did, he wouldn't let me go. He would fight for me. He would do everything to make me stay in this marriage, wouldn't he?

To be continued…