I regret saving u
1023 Words
chapter 19 & 20
*Cristilla P.O.V.*
The smell of antiseptic still clung to my skin when they discharged me from the so-called hospital. Hospital? No. That place was nothing but a clinic with white walls and tired nurses.
I stood at the entrance, clutching the discharge paper in my hand like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.
"Thanks for saving me," I said quietly, not looking at him. "But I guess we would have to part ways now."
Shivaay turned to me, his jaw tight. "Why did you leave the house?"
I laughed bitterly. "Mr. Man, I have every right to go anywhere of my choice. And also… thanks again."
His eyes darkened. "Okay. Can you at least go back home?"
"Home?" The word tasted strange. "I want to have a divorce. And for the money, I will pay it bit by bit."
"Do you think that I care?" He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t give a damn. Anyway, I don’t have a problem."
Then he got into his car, slammed the door, and through the open window, he said the one sentence that cut deeper than any knife:
"I regret saving you."
The tires screeched as he drove off.
---
I watched him go. The way he drove — fast, reckless, like he wanted to erase me from his rearview mirror.
My chest felt tight. I wrapped my arms around myself and closed my eyes. The world was spinning. after some while he came back which I regretted to entered his car
Hours later, when I finally opened my eyes, we were on the main road. Cars were flying past us.
"Please," I whispered, then louder. "Please stop the car."
He hesitated for a second that felt like forever. Then the brakes screeched and the car jolted to a stop.
I stumbled out, breathing hard, my legs shaking. I watched his taillights disappear into the distance.
Damn. Can’t the officers see the way he’s driving? Isn’t that illegal?
I flagged down a cab. The driver didn’t ask questions. I gave him the address to my new apartment — a small place with peeling paint and one window that never closed properly.
I paid him, dragged myself inside, and let the door shut behind me. Hot water, junk food, and sleep. That was all I needed. The doctor did a good job. My body didn’t hurt. But my heart? That was a different story.
---
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Why did his words hurt so much? "I regret saving you."
I tossed and turned until dawn. When I finally gave up, I found myself walking. No plan. No destination. Just walking.
The place was desolate. Empty streets. Broken streetlights. And then it hit me — I didn’t even know where I was.
Whatever happened to me must have been terrible. The only name echoing in my head was "Black Shadow."
Footsteps. Then the roar of an engine.
A car was coming straight at me. Fast.
I closed my eyes. Said a prayer. This is it.
But instead of impact, I felt a strong hand grip my head and yank me backward.
I opened my eyes.
Shivaay.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted, furious.
Fear kept me still for only a second. This place was dangerous. I ran and jumped into the passenger seat. He didn’t wait. He sped off, driving like a madman, swerving through the empty roads.
I regretted getting in.
---
The next morning, I forced myself to work.
Sir Lionel was waiting. "Finally. Look who decided to show up."
"Good day, Sir. I’m sorry. Something came up," I said.
We talked quickly. The driving test was in 2 days. I was nervous, but thanks to Sir Lionel, I felt ready.
We closed early. I took a cab straight to the police station. I had to file a report. About what almost happened to me. About Black Shadow. About the fear that was living under my skin.
"Hello, madam. How can we help you?"
"I would like to file a missing case," I said, and told them everything.
They stared at me like I was crazy. Then one of them checked the clock. "We’re closing for the day."
I nodded. "No problem."
But inside, I was screaming.
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*(The next day)*
I cleaned the apartment I’d neglected. Cooked. Ate. Bathed. Fell into bed.
My alarm dragged me out of sleep. I went to the police station again.
This time they looked at me like they’d seen a ghost.
"Please come with me," one officer said, leading me upstairs.
He offered me a seat. "My dear, I know we’re supposed to do our job… but I would like you to drop the case."
I nodded, even though my heart was pounding. I was late for school.
"My dear," he leaned in, voice low. "I don’t want you to involve yourself with the mafia. Does anything like that even exist?"
Mafia? My blood ran cold.
---
School was a blur. Italian finals. Boring lectures.
After, I went to work. The motorcycle roared under me. Sir Lionel wasn’t there to assist this time. "Don’t watch me ride it without helping me," I muttered to myself, but I did it.
Hours later, I came home. Researched. Did homework. Chatted with no one. Then I fell asleep, exhausted, with the word "mafia" still ringing in my ears.
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- Writer
