Chapter 22
1378 Words
DAVID’S POV
Mara pushed me away so hard I almost stumbled backward.
“What is wrong with you?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice into the cold night around us.
I stared at her, my heartbeat pounding in my throat. “I’m telling you the truth, Mara. I don’t want the wedding. I don’t want her.”
“I don’t care!” she fired back. “Why are you telling me that? Why—why would you say it to me?”
“Because you’re the one I want,” I said quietly.
Her face twisted—not with softness, but anger. Disbelief.
“No. You don’t get to do this.”
She shoved the drink I bought for her into my chest. “Take your drink. And take your… whatever this is. I’m not interested, David.”
“Mara—”
“No.”
Her voice broke for a split-second before she hardened it again.
“You can’t show up out of nowhere and start acting like we’re still together. We’re not. And whatever your wedding problems are, they are your problems. Not mine.”
She turned and walked away so fast I could barely catch my breath.
“Mara!” I called out.
She didn’t stop.
She didn’t even look back.
I watched her disappear into the distance, and something inside me snapped—quietly, violently.
I looked down at the drink she shoved into me. My fist tightened until the bottle crackled.
Until it burst.
Cold liquid gushed over my hand.
Pain shot up my palm as the plastic sliced my skin.
But I didn’t care.
All I could see was… Elias.
It was his fault that this was happening.
The anniversary night.
At the dinner, when I was looking everywhere for Mara—
I saw him stepping out of the mansion.
A few minutes later, she walked out too.
Same direction.
Same time.
Same place.
My stomach twisted.
“So that’s it,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
I hurled the crushed bottle as far as I could. It splashed against the pavement, spraying the liquid everywhere.
I groaned, grabbing my hair with both hands because the anger was too much—too sharp—too loud inside my head.
“Damn it…”
I forced myself to walk home before I did something worse.
It was already late when I returned.
I slammed the door behind me and went straight to my room. I didn’t even want to breathe the same air as anyone else.
I peeled off my shirt, washed my face, tried to calm down—
A knock came.
Then the door opened without permission.
Andrea stepped inside wearing silk and a smile she didn’t deserve.
“David…” she purred. “How was work today? Hope you're not stressed.”
“I’m tired,” I muttered. “Go to your room.”
She walked closer anyway.
“I can help you relax.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
She touched my arm. I pulled it away.
“Andrea, not now.”
She leaned up and pressed her lips to mine.
I almost shoved her back—
Until something in my vision flickered.
Her face blurred…
And suddenly she looked like Mara.
My Mara.
My chest tightened. My breath hitched.
She whispered, “Let me take care of you…”
I grabbed her waist and kissed her—
Hard.
Rough.
Hungry.
She gasped, loving every second.
But I wasn’t kissing Andrea.
Not in my mind.
It was Mara.
It was always Mara.
Andrea moaned softly and pulled me closer.
I lifted her into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as she kissed me again and again. I laid her on the bed, leaning over her while her hands slid around my neck, pulling me closer. My body reacted on its own, and for a moment, I let it happen.
Then she moved, turning on top of me, and reached for the strap of her silk top, sliding it down as if she was ready to go further.
And that was when it hit me.
This wasn’t right.
This wasn’t who I wanted.
This wasn’t Mara.
I caught her hand and pulled the strap back up, then gently pushed her to the side as I stood.
“What happened?” Andrea asked, confused. She wanted more—I could see it all over her face.
She came closer, reaching out to touch me again. I stepped back quickly.
“N… nothing, Andrea. I’m just tired,” I said, avoiding her eyes.
Before she could say anything else, I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, trying to breathe, trying to calm the storm inside my head.
The next morning at the company, I barely slept.
But I showed up at work anyway.
Mr. Holta approached me the moment I stepped into the hallway.
“Mr. Hale!” he said, smiling broadly. “Congratulations on your wedding date being fixed!”
My eyes snapped to his face.
He was familiar.
Too familiar.
I had seen him before. With someone.
That's when it hit me, the night I had seen Camille with someone.
He was the one.
“You know about the wedding?” I asked slowly.
“Oh yes yes… I heard it from—”
“Camille,” I finished for him, my voice flat.
He stiffened for a second.
Then forced a laugh.
“Yes! Yes, from Camille! Very exciting event coming up.”
I didn’t smile.
He cleared his throat and walked away quickly, trying not to look suspicious.
I watched him until he disappeared around a corner.
The office was worse.
I couldn’t think straight.
Mara’s face kept flashing in my mind.
The way she had rejected me, like she didn't want anything to do with me.
I needed to get away from the office.
I didn’t plan it.
Somehow, my feet took me straight to the restaurant Mara’s father ran.
The bell above the door chimed when I stepped in.
“David!” her father beamed, wiping his hands on an apron. “You came! Sit, sit—let me get you something to eat.”
He brought steaming chicken Alfredo before I could even refuse.
I ate quietly while he served customers, and when the crowd slowed, he came to sit beside me holding two cans of soda.
He placed one in front of me.
“You look troubled,” he said gently.
I forced a smile. “Just work.”
“And Mara?” he asked with a knowing look.
I froze.
He chuckled softly.
“I see the way your eyes move when we talk about her.”
I looked down at my drink.
He sighed. “I would have been grateful if you were my son-in-law, David.”
The words punched the air out of my chest.
He continued, “You cared for her. You understood her. You were good for her.”
I swallowed hard.
He didn’t know how much I wanted to hear that.
He didn’t know what it meant to me.
He packed extra food for me. “Take this with you. Eat something warm before sleeping.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly and left.
I sat in the driver’s seat for minutes, her father’s words echoing in my head.
I would have been grateful if you were my son-in-law.
I closed my eyes.
“I’ll get her back,” I whispered.
“I swear I’ll make her mine again.”
I opened my phone.
Old photos of me and Mara filled the screen
Smiling.
Laughing.
Kissing.
Wrapping ourselves in the kind of love that felt like home.
My throat tightened.
Then an idea sparked.
A dangerous idea.
If those pictures went online…
If the public saw them…
The wedding would collapse.
Everything would collapse.
Even though it'd cause Mara harm, I'll stay by her side.
I opened an anonymous account and posted one of them.
The favorite picture that caught me most, where we formed the heart shape with our hands smiling.
I hit “upload,” put my phone down, and drove home.
The second I walked into the living room–
A slap cracked across my face.
- Writer
