Page 103 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Love and hate can’t coexist, with him.
With us.
He bends down, and for a moment the world stills. His nose brushes mine, the faintest touch, and his lips graze the corner of my mouth.
I hold my breath, my eyes closing of their own accord, feeling the softness of him, wishing for something more, something reckless. But I know better. I know this is where it has to stop.
I lift my chin and try to put strength into my voice.
“Bye, Arlo.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, a shadow flashing behind his eyes.
“Goodbye, Ophelia.”
His hand falls from my face, his back straight, as he turns and walks to the door.
It closes with a soft click.
And that sound, feels like something inside me sealing shut.
I stand in the stillness, staring at the door until my eyes blur, realising too late that finality has never felt so incomplete.
Chapter 35
Ophelia
Yesterday, after Arlo left, I fell asleep crying.
Crying for what?
For him?
For myself?
I don’t even know anymore. I just know I need to pull myself together. I should know better by now.
Today, I’ve done nothing but pretend everything is fine, buried myself in lectures, notes, anything that keeps me from thinking.
By the time classes end, I’m drained. I go back to my dorm meaning to read, but the moment I sit down, sleep takes me.
When I wake, it’s already dark. December steals the light too early. The clock on my nightstand says five.
I drag myself to the bathroom, splash cold water over my face until the sleep slips away, and wipe off the remnants of my makeup.
My reflection looks pale. I twist my hair into a high ponytail, grab my riding clothes from the wardrobe, and pull them on.
The stables are quiet when I arrive. The air smells of hay, rain, and the soft earth outside.
Bellamy whinnies the moment he sees me, ears flicking forward, as if scolding me for neglect. I smile faintly, stepping close to stroke his white neck.
“Hi, love,” I whisper, pressing a kiss between his eyes. “Missed me, didn’t you?”
He nudges my shoulder in answer. I saddle him, tighten the girth, and mount. The first drops of rain fall as we leave the stable.
I don’t turn toward the training arena. I guide him toward the woods instead, the long trail lined with skeletal trees. The wind hums through the branches. Thunder rumbles somewhere distant.
Bellamy tosses his head, uneasy.
