You Are My Heart

Chapter Ten-Klaus

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

I sat alone in my living room, a glass of scotch in my hand, staring at nothing.

The lights were dim. The city outside my windows was alive—cars moving along the streets, buildings glowing against the night, people going about their lives as if nothing had happened.

But inside this house, everything felt dead.

I took another sip of my scotch.

It burned down my throat.

I welcomed the burn.

Because at least that pain was simple.

It was something I understood.

Unlike the pain sitting inside my chest.

I closed my eyes.

And immediately, I saw him.

Zayden.

Crying.

Begging me.

Klaus, please.

Why can’t you just love me?

My fingers tightened around the glass.

I opened my eyes.

“Fuck.”

I looked down at the drink in my hand.

Why couldn’t I?

Why?

It was such a simple question.

Yet I had no answer.

I had known.

Of course I had known.

I wasn’t stupid.

I had known Zayden was in love with me.

Maybe I had known for years.

Maybe some part of me had always known.

The way he looked at me sometimes.

The way he remembered everything about me.

The way he worried about me even when I didn’t deserve it.

The way he could sit beside me in complete silence and somehow make the silence feel comfortable.

The way he always answered my calls.

The way he would look at me whenever I walked into a room.

I had seen it.

I had felt it.

I had simply refused to name it.

Because naming it meant I would have to face it.

And tonight, I had.

I leaned my head against the back of the sofa.

“Why can’t I love you?”

The question left my mouth quietly.

There was nobody there to answer me.

I stared at the ceiling.

“Why can’t I?”

I knew I cared about him.

God, I cared about him.

More than I cared about anyone.

More than I had ever cared about anyone.

Zayden wasn’t just my best friend.

He wasn’t just someone from my past.

He was part of me.

He had been there when we had nothing.

When we were sleeping wherever we could.

When hunger was normal.

When fear was normal.

When neither of us knew what tomorrow would bring.

He had been there.

And I had been there for him.

We survived together.

I had built my entire life after those days.

Money.

Businesses.

Hotels.

Clubs.

Power.

Influence.

Everything.

And if Zayden ever wanted something, I would give it to him.

Anything.

There wasn’t a price I wouldn’t pay for him.

There wasn’t a door I wouldn’t break down for him.

There wasn’t a person I wouldn’t confront if they tried to hurt him.

If somebody threatened Zayden, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I could destroy everything standing between him and safety.

I could take someone’s life if that was what it took to keep him alive.

I could snuff out anyone’s light if their darkness ever touched him.

That was how much I cared.

So why couldn’t I love him?

I swallowed.

“Why?”

My voice cracked.

I frowned.

I couldn’t remember the last time my voice had sounded like that.

Weak.

Broken.

Human.

I took another drink.

I could have lied to him.

That was the thing.

I could have looked into his eyes tonight and said the words he wanted to hear.

I love you too.

It would have been so easy.

Maybe easier than watching him cry.

Maybe easier than watching him kneel in front of me and beg for something I couldn’t give.

I could have said it.

I could have held his face.

I could have kissed his forehead.

I could have told him everything would be okay.

But I didn’t.

Because I had never lied to Zayden.

Not once.

I had lied to governments.

Business partners.

Enemies.

People who trusted me.

People who feared me.

I had built entire lives around lies.

But never with Zayden.

Never him.

I couldn’t look into those eyes and lie.

I couldn’t give him fake love just because the truth hurt.

And the truth was—

I didn’t know how to love him.

I didn’t know how to open that part of myself.

Maybe I didn’t know if that part of me even existed anymore.

I looked at the glass again.

My reflection stared back at me.

A man everyone feared.

A man who had built an empire from nothing.

A man who could walk into a room and make grown men lower their eyes.

A man who had survived things that should have destroyed him.

But tonight?

Tonight, I couldn’t survive the sight of one man crying.

Zayden.

I closed my eyes again.

His face appeared.

His tears.

His shaking voice.

Even if it’s just a little.

My chest tightened.

“Fuck.”

I put the glass down.

I stood up and walked toward the window.

My hands went into my pockets.

I stared at the city.

I had everything.

Everything.

If I wanted something, I could buy it.

If I wanted a house, I bought one.

A hotel, I built one.

A club, I opened one.

Money?

I had more than I could spend.

Power?

I had enough to make people think twice before crossing me.

If Zayden wanted a bracelet, I bought him one.

If he wanted a car, I’d buy him ten.

If he wanted a house, I’d put the keys in his hand tomorrow morning.

If he wanted anything in this world, I would give it to him.

So why couldn’t I give him the one thing he actually wanted?

My heart.

I pressed my palm against my chest.

“Is it really that cold?”

I whispered.

Was my heart really that f*****g cold?

Had I destroyed it so completely that there was nothing left?

I knew Zayden was in my heart.

I had always known that.

But perhaps I had convinced myself that there were different kinds of love.

Family.

Loyalty.

Protection.

Care.

Friendship.

Anything except the kind he wanted.

Anything except romance.

Anything except vulnerability.

Because love had always meant pain to me.

I loved my mother.

And she died.

I loved my father.

And he abandoned me.

I loved my family.

And I lost them.

Every person I had loved had taught me the same lesson.

Love doesn’t stay.

Love leaves.

Love dies.

Love hurts.

So I had stopped believing in it.

Long before my father threw us out.

Long before my mother died.

My heart had already been closing.

Piece by piece.

Year by year.

I had learned not to need people.

Not to trust them.

Not to depend on them.

Not to give them enough of myself that they could destroy me.

And then Zayden came along.

Or maybe he had always been there.

That was the problem.

He had somehow slipped through every wall I had built.

He had stayed.

He had become part of my life without asking permission.

He had become family without me realizing when it happened.

And now he wanted something my heart had been refusing to give for years.

I rubbed my face.

“Zayden…”

His name came out like a prayer.

I remembered him kneeling in front of me.

Begging.

My stomach twisted.

I had never seen him like that.

Zayden was strong.

He was calm.

He was the person who could walk into a courtroom full of angry people and stand his ground.

He fought for people nobody else wanted to fight for.

He protected children who had nobody.

He gave people hope.

And tonight, he had stood in front of me with tears streaming down his face, asking me for love.

And I couldn’t give it to him.

I couldn’t even give him a little.

I covered my face with both hands.

My breathing became uneven.

“No.”

I shook my head.

“Fuck.”

Something inside me broke.

I picked up the glass again.

I stared at it.

Then suddenly—

I threw it.

The glass flew across the room and smashed against the wall.

The sound echoed through the house.

Pieces scattered across the floor.

I stood there breathing heavily.

Angry.

So f*****g angry.

But I didn’t know who I was angry at.

Zayden?

No.

Never him.

Myself?

Maybe.

My past?

Probably.

Love?

Definitely.

I walked toward the shattered glass.

I crouched down.

Without thinking, I reached for one of the pieces.

The sharp edge sliced into my palm.

I froze.

A thin line of blood appeared.

Then another drop.

I stared at my hand.

Blood.

I watched it slowly run down my palm.

And strangely, I didn’t feel the cut.

I only felt the ache in my chest.

I sat down on the floor.

My back against the wall.

My bleeding hand resting on my knee.

And then something happened that I hadn’t allowed to happen in years.

I cried.

One tear.

Then another.

I stared at them like they belonged to someone else.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried.

Maybe it had been years.

Maybe longer.

I had cried when my mother died.

I had cried when I realized my father wasn’t coming back.

I had cried when I understood that the family I thought I had was gone.

Then I had stopped.

I learned how to swallow pain.

I learned how to turn grief into anger.

I learned how to turn fear into violence.

I learned how to turn loneliness into ambition.

I learned how to become Klaus.

The man nobody could hurt.

The man nobody could break.

But tonight, Zayden had broken me without even trying.

I wiped my face.

More tears came.

“Why can’t I love you?”

I whispered again.

My voice trembled.

“Why can’t I just say it?”

I looked toward the ceiling.

“Why can’t I just say, ‘I love you too’?”

My lips trembled.

“Why?”

I wanted to understand.

I wanted someone to explain it to me.

Why could I care about him so much that I would destroy the world for him, but I couldn’t give him three words?

I love you too.

Why?

Was my heart truly that damaged?

Had I closed it for so long that I had forgotten how to open it?

I looked at my injured palm.

Blood was still running.

And suddenly, I thought about Zayden.

He would have worried.

He would have told me to clean it.

He would have gotten the first-aid kit himself.

He would have complained that I was careless.

He would have looked at me with those eyes.

Those f*****g eyes.

And I would have smiled.

Because that was us.

That was always us.

I loved having him around.

I loved hearing him talk.

I loved seeing him happy.

I loved giving him things just because I saw something and thought of him.

I loved knowing he was safe.

I loved knowing he had a home.

I loved knowing he had built something beautiful from the life that had tried to destroy him.

I loved—

I stopped.

My breathing caught.

I stared into the darkness.

I loved him.

The thought came quietly.

Almost dangerously.

I shook my head.

“No.”

But the thought remained.

I loved him.

Maybe not in the way he wanted.

Maybe not in the way he deserved.

But I loved him.

And perhaps that was exactly what scared me.

Because what if I opened that door?

What if I allowed myself to love him?

What if I let him become more than family?

What if I gave him my heart?

What if he took it?

What if he left?

What if he died?

What if I lost him?

The thought alone made my chest hurt.

I clenched my injured hand.

Then immediately winced.

I looked down.

“Fuck.”

I laughed bitterly through my tears.

Even now, I was thinking about losing him.

That was how terrified I was.

I had spent years convincing myself I didn’t need love.

Maybe because I knew exactly how much it could take from me.

My mother had taken pieces of me with her when she died.

My father had taken something when he abandoned me.

And I had spent years rebuilding myself without them.

I couldn’t imagine surviving losing Zayden.

But wasn’t that the irony?

I was so afraid of losing him that I might lose him anyway.

Because I couldn’t love him.

I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

I looked toward the door.

For a moment, I thought about going back to his house.

Walking into his room.

Sitting beside him.

Holding him.

Telling him not to cry.

But what would I say?

That I was sorry?

He already knew.

That I cared?

He already knew.

That I would protect him?

He already knew.

None of those things were enough.

He had told me himself.

Care is not enough.

I closed my eyes.

He was right.

And that hurt more than anything.

I slowly stood.

Blood dripped onto the floor.

I walked toward the bathroom, cleaned my palm, wrapped it carefully, then returned to the living room.

The broken glass was still there.

I stared at it.

A shattered glass.

A shattered night.

A shattered piece of something I didn’t know how to name.

I sat down again.

My eyes burned.

I picked up my phone.

Zayden’s name was at the top of my recent calls.

I stared at it.

My thumb hovered over his name.

I wanted to call.

I wanted to hear his voice.

I wanted to know if he was okay.

But I stopped.

He had asked me to leave.

For once, I needed to respect what he asked.

So I locked the phone.

Placed it beside me.

And stared into the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Zayden.”

My voice was barely a whisper.

“I really am.”

I swallowed hard.

“I just don’t know how to love you.”

Another tear slipped down my cheek.

“And I don’t know if I ever learned how.”

I looked down at my bandaged hand.

Then back toward the empty room.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of an enemy.

I wasn’t afraid of losing money.

I wasn’t afraid of death.

I wasn’t afraid of Carlos.

I wasn’t afraid of anyone.

I was afraid of myself.

Because somewhere beneath all the anger, all the violence, all the walls, all the years of pretending that love meant nothing to me…

There was still a heart.

And Zayden had found it.

The problem was—

I didn’t know how to open it.

And I was terrified that by the time I figured it out…

Zayden would already be gone.