Page 93 of A Kingdom's Heart
And I knew, at least part of that anger was mine to carry.
My throat tightened. The guilt pressed down hard, but so did the irritation. He had no right to look at me like that, unless it’s because I lied about who I was, though I doubt that’s the reason.
He crossed his arms over his chest. For a moment, I thought he might say something. But he didn’t. He only kept staring, silent and unmoving, as if daring me to speak first.
The air between us felt like a live wire. I could hear my heartbeat, quick and uneven. I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, slow but deep, as though fighting for control.
I held his gaze, my pulse hammering in my throat. Every second felt longer than the last. I wanted him to look away. I wanted him to say something. Anything.
But he didn’t.
The quiet became unbearable.
Without thinking, I turned sharply and crossed the room. My fingers closed around the door handle, pushing it shut with more force than I meant to. The lock clicked into place, the sound cutting through the stillness like a spark.
The tension seemed to thicken, coil tighter around us both.
I turned back to him, my hands trembling at my sides. He didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes following me with that same quiet, smoldering anger.
Enough.
If he wanted to keep staring at me like that, if he wanted to stand there as though I were some stranger, then he was going to face me now.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
WILLIAM
She was standing right in front of me now, eyes bright with anger, chin tilted up to meet my gaze. The air between us felt thick, too heavy to breathe. I kept my arms crossed, staring down at her, my pulse steady but hard.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice low but sharp.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out. Something cruel, maybe. Something I would regret. I couldn’t tell her that every time I saw her with Lorenzo, it made something in me twist. That I hated it more than I had any right to.
Her tone rose. “Say something! You’ve been angry for so long, and I know it can’t just be because I lied to you about who I was.”
I drew a heavy breath through my nose. She was right, and I knew she was. She seemed to know a truth I didn’t want to face. Something burned in my chest, fierce and unwanted. I tried to keep it still, to swallow it down.
“Answer me!” she said again, louder this time. Her hand came up, her small fist ready to hit me in the chest or shove me. Anything to make me react.
But I moved before I could think. My hand caught her first
before she could land the strike. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers.
We both froze.
Her breath hitched, and my grip tightened slightly, not out of force but from the effort it took to keep control. Her eyes met mine, wide and defiant, and I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Let go!” she said in a trembling voice, not from fear, but anger. She pulled at her wrist, but I didn’t move.
“I said let go!” she shouted again, louder this time.
The sound of her voice cracked something inside me. I could see the anger in her eyes, the frustration, but behind it there was something else. Hurt. The same hurt I had been trying to bury under duty and silence. I had been holding it all in for too long, and now I couldn’t hold it anymore.
“Do you want to know why?” The words came out harsh and low.
She stilled. “Why what?”
“Why I look at you like that. Why I can’t stand seeing you with him.”
