Page 17 of All That She Needs

"If I said it," she said, her voice breaking, "I was afraid it would be too real. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to come back from it."

"Wearereal. My love for you is real," I retorted, my voice trembling with hurt. "Then you fucking left me. You left without a word, without an explanation, without a care that you were killing me."

"One of us had to make the hard decision, Aiden," she said quietly, her tears starting to cloud her eyes. She allowed me to see her pain. She wasn't closed off like she used to.Why now?

I knew why she had done it, why she had left me, but it was still difficult to accept. I was bitter and furious, and I couldn't stop myself. "So, you went and decided to marry a man you don't love?"

"I care about him," she said quietly. "He's a good man. He loves me."

"I love you!" I shouted, unable to hold back. "Ilove you. I gave you my whole heart. I worshipped you. I doted on you. I put you above everything. I was yours. I am still yours, and I will always be yours!"

"Aiden," she sobbed, her tears streaming freely now, mirroring the devastation that was tearing me apart inside. "You were never truly mine. You belonged to her. You always went back to her. Every time you left, my heart shattered into pieces. Did you know that? I was your dirty little secret, watching you live a life where I didn't belong, pretending I was okay with being hidden in the shadows. But how long was I supposed to wait? You would never leave her, and I couldn't keep waiting. And the guilt, Aiden—it destroyed me. I didn't want to be that person. I didn't want to ruin your family. I didn't want to take you away from them. Even if we could be together, I would have lived the rest of my life weighed down by guilt, and I couldn't do that. I had to let you go, and I knew I had to be the one who would do it."

I felt sick. Words failed me. There was nothing more to say. But one thing was clear—all the painful days I spent away from her, all the excruciating attempts to forget her, had been meaningless. I still loved her. I still wanted her. Apparently, I had never stopped.

"I have to go," she said softly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She rose from her seat. "I'm sorry, Aiden. For hurting you. For leaving you. I truly hope you'll find happiness."

Her words hung in the air, a finality I still wasn't ready to accept. As she turned to leave, panic surged through me, and I jumped from my seat. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn't let her go. I needed her to give me a chance to fix this, to make her mine again, even though I had no idea how. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of her, blocking her way to the door.

"Please, baby," I begged, my voice cracking with desperation. I sounded pitiful, but I didn't care. I couldn't lose her again—not like this. I pulled her into my embrace, holding her tight as if she were my lifeline, because she was. She sobbed harder, burrowing her face against my chest, and I tightened my arms around her, desperate to keep her close. But she didn't hug me back; her arms remained stiff at her sides, her fists clenched, as if she was struggling to be strong for both of us. "I love you. I fucking love you. I know I'm a piece of shit. I know I'm selfish. But I love you. And I'm so torn..."

"I know you love me, Aiden. But you have to let me go."

"I'm trying. Believe me. I'm trying. But it's so hard."

Then I kissed her. I kissed her with the desperation of a dying man, craving the antidote that only her lips could provide. My lips pressed against hers, searching for the connection I feared had been lost forever. The urgency, the need—I poured it all into that kiss, hoping, praying that it would be enough to make her stay.

But then she pulled away. Her eyes were filled with a dozen emotions. Sadness, pity, regret. I braced myself for the worst, my heart sinking into a pit of dread, but suddenly, shecrashed her lips back into mine. The kiss was fierce, fueled by all the pent-up emotion neither of us had ever put into words. The world could burn behind us, and I still wouldn't care. I still wouldn't let her go. It was raw, intense, and for that moment, nothing else mattered to us but the desperate need to hold on to what we once had.

Her hands finally moved, clutching at my shirt as if she needed to anchor herself. I tightened my grip around her, pulling her even closer, afraid that if I let go, she would slip away forever. The kiss deepened, turning frantic, as if we were trying to make up for all the lost time, all the hurt, all the things we couldn't say.

Then suddenly, her kiss slowed, the intensity fading into something softer, almost hesitant. We finally broke apart, both of us breathless, our foreheads resting against each other's. The silence that followed was heavy. So many things we wanted to say but left unsaid. Her eyes, still brimming with emotion, met mine, and I saw the truth there—the war between love and the pain I'd caused. The kiss had been everything, and yet it wasn't enough. I could feel her slipping away, even as I held her close.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she whispered, "I can't do this again, Aiden." Her voice was soft, trembling, but there was a finality to it that pierced through me like a blade. I wanted to protest, to beg her to stay, but the words wouldn't come. All I could do was to see her leave again, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't have her.

Part 8: Asha

I watched my husband absently swirling the little spoon in his coffee, his mind a thousand miles away. The harrowing expression he wore had been etched on his face for the past week. I knew that look all too well—I had seen it on him for months when he was mourning the loss of her.

And now, it was back again. I wasn't sure I had the strength to go through this again.

My heart wrenched at the thought, the familiar ache creeping in as I realized that whatever had brought him back to that place was tearing him apart all over again.

"Aiden," I called out, but he didn't respond. It was as if he didn't even hear me. I tried again, my voice a little louder this time, desperate for him to come back to me, to see me, to hear me. "Aiden." Still, nothing.

I felt my son Kayden's eyes on me and glanced over at him. He shook his head slowly, his expression filled with a knowing sadness. It wasn't just me who felt Aiden's detachment—Kayden felt it too. He understood, as I did, that whatever we did or said wouldn't be enough to bring Aiden back to us. He might be physically present, but his heart and mind were no longer with us. I often wondered if this detachment had happened only at home or if he was the same in the office. But his projects continued on, and he was still busy at work, still working late, so it seemed that only his family had been sacrificed in this emotional fallout.

It felt like a lost cause. Our marriage seemed impossible to salvage, and the way Kayden looked at me—his gaze filled with resignation—conveyed that he, too, had given up on his father. But despite everything, I was still afraid. I couldn't imagine my life without him, no matter how distant he had become. Without him, what would I be?

Kayden pushed his chair back to get up. The chair's scraping sound was rather loud and impatient, and it seemed to yank Aiden out of his thoughts. He looked up at his son and finally spoke. "You're leaving for school?"

Our son just stared at him, frowning deeply. But Aiden was oblivious to everything except his own feelings, and instead, he asked, "What time is it? I should be going too."

"No. You stay." Kayden's voice was gruff, as if he was gritting his teeth. "You'd been spaced out for almost an hour, Dad. Mom had been calling you, but you ignored her."

Kayden's words struck me, and I felt a sting behind my eyes. My usually reserved son stood up for me, showing how much he was hurting too. As painful as it was, I was glad Chloe wasn't there. She left early for school for an event, and I wasn't sure I could handle seeing the same disappointment on her face.

Aiden's gaze snapped toward mine, his expression shifting to one of guilt. "You did? I'm sorry I didn't hear you." He reached out, taking my hand and clasping it between both of his. "What did you want to say to me?"

---