Page 60 of Knotting else Matters

“I thought I would never love again. Thought I would never smile, never feel that wild, fierce joy he brought into my life. But I did. I found happiness again. I built a life.” Her lips trembled, her voice breaking just slightly. “But even now… even after all these years… there are days when I wake up, and I still feel that emptiness. That ache. Like a piece of me is missing. Like I’m a puzzle with one piece gone.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. “But even if my time with him was short, even if the pain nearly destroyed me… it was so worth it.”

I swallowed, the sharp, aching knot in my chest tightening, twisting, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

“Because being with him… being loved by him… it changed me. It made me stronger. It showed me a love so fierce, so wild that even the darkness couldn’t take it away. And even now, even with all the pain, all the emptiness… I would choose him again. I would suffer it all again just for one more day, one more heartbeat with him.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, her voice a quiet, desperate whisper. “Because that’s what it means to find your mate, Olivia. It’s not perfect. It’s not always beautiful. It’s raw, and messy, and terrifying. But it’s real. It’s a fire that burns even when the world turns to ash. It’s a bond that even death can’t break.”

Tears burned in my eyes, my vision blurring, the sharp, suffocating ache in my chest crashing into something fierce, something desperate. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak. The warmth of the bar, the soft, golden light, the quiet hum of laughter and conversation faded into a distant, muffled whisper.

Because her words weren’t just a story. They were a mirror. A twisted, painful reflection of everything I’d tried so hard to avoid, to deny, to run from.

I was falling. I was falling, and I was terrified.

“I—” My voice broke, a sharp, choked whisper. “I need… I need to get to bed. Sophie’s wedding is tomorrow, and I—”

Ada’s smile softened, her fingers slipping away, leaving a warm, lingering ache where they’d touched. “Of course, sweetheart.”

But I saw it in her eyes—the quiet, understanding sadness, the faint, knowing light.

I pushed myself off the barstool, fumbling for my purse, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, my chest tight, twisted, a fierce, desperate ache clawing at me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice was a sharp, shaky whisper, and before she could respond, I turned, walking away, the soft, warm glow of the bar fading behind me, the quiet, gentle murmur of conversation fading to a dull, distant hum.

The elevator doors slid open, the cool, polished metal reflecting my wild, tear-filled eyes, my trembling fingers. I stepped inside, the soft, golden glow spilling across my face, and for a moment, I saw her—Ada, sitting at the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, her gaze distant, lost in a memory I couldn’t touch.

And I hated it. Hated how her words twisted in my chest, hated how the fierce, desperate ache refused to leave.

I was falling. And I didn’t know how to stop.

The elevator doors whispered shut, the soft, gentle hum carrying me up, up, up… to my room. Not his. Not the penthouse key still burning a hole in my pocket. Just my room. Just my quiet, empty room, with its cold, crisp sheets and the faint, lingering scent of loneliness.

And gods, I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to tear the stupid, glittering watch off my wrist and throw it against the wall.

But I didn’t. I just stepped inside, letting the cool, quiet darkness wrap around me, my fingers fumbling for the light switch.

And in that quiet, empty silence, I let myself break. Let the tears slip down my cheeks, let the fierce, suffocating ache in my chest crash over me.

Because I knew it now. The truth I didn’t want to admit. I was falling for him. And I was terrified it would destroy me.

CHAPTER 15

Olivia

For once, I woke up on time. No wild, desperate rush, no tangled sheets and racing heart. Just the quiet, pale light of morning spilling through the curtains, the faint, soothing scent of fresh linen, the steady, distant hum of the city waking up outside.

I dragged myself out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom, the cool, tiled floor a sharp, bracing shock against my bare feet. The mirror was a cruel, honest reflection—dark circles beneath my eyes, a faint, tired shadow lingering in my gaze, my dark hair a wild, tangled mess.

I stepped into the shower, the warm water crashing over me, washing away the lingering ache, the sharp, suffocating tension that had twisted in my chest all night. I scrubbed, lathered, let the steam wrap around me like a hazy, soothing cloud.

When I stepped out, I combed my fingers through my damp hair, staring at my reflection, my fingers parting the dark, sleek strands. And there it was. A single, silver thread glinting beneath the light.

“Great.” I grumbled, plucking the gray hair, staring at it like it was a personal insult. “Perfect timing.”

I leaned closer, the faint, pale shadow of the mark on my neck just barely visible, fading, but still there—a quiet, possessive bruise beneath my skin. I let out a slow, shaky breath, grabbing my foundation, brushing it over the mark, hiding it beneath a smooth, flawless layer of makeup. The dress I chose was elegant, deep lavender with delicate, sheer sleeves that hugged my arms, the high neckline a perfect cover.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror was composed, calm, perfect. A lie. But a beautiful one.

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