Page 89 of The Girl I Once Loved

The revelation had come crashing down on me like a tidal wave, sweeping away the fragile remnants of my trust and leaving nothing but shattered fragments in its wake. Noah hadn't cheated on me; he'd sacrificed his own happiness to ensure mine. He'd faked infidelity to push me to leave Thatcher's Bay, to pursue my dreams at Dartmouth. He'd thought it was what was best for me.

But the best intentions had paved the road to hell. The truth had left me drowning in a sea of regret and despair, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd lost something irreplaceable.

Nights spent alone, the darkness as my only confidant, had become all too familiar. I’d told Noah about some of the fun memories from college, but there were a million more that had been laced with sorrow. Where I’d chosen to spend my time alone in my room, mourning lost love rather than living. I’d been hurt, and I’d hurt others in return…all because of my heartache. Each tear that slipped down my cheeks was a testament to the hearts I'd inadvertently broken along the way, all because of Noah's lie. Regret weighed on me like a heavy shroud, and I couldn't help but dwell on the choices I'd made, the words left unspoken, and the pain I'd caused. Friends and men who had seen something in me that I couldn't see in myself. Their love had been genuine, their affection unwavering, but I'd pushed them all away, convinced that I was doing them a favor because of the scars that Noah's lie had left behind.

All this time I’d believed that I was doing the right thing, protecting myself from the anguish of heartbreak that Noah's deceit had led me to anticipate. I'd held back, built walls around my heart, and refused to let anyone get too close. I told myself that it was self-preservation, that I was shielding myself from the inevitable pain that came with love.

But the truth was, I'd become a prisoner of my own fear, a captive to the past that haunted me.

Because of this lie, this all encompassing lie, I’d been my own worst enemy, sabotaging my chances at happiness because of the misguided belief that I was protecting myself.

I’m lost in my thoughts when I feel the bed dip beside me. My breath catches, and I turn to see Noah's familiar silhouette in the dim light. He moves closer, his arms enveloping me in a warm, reassuring embrace. His scent, so achingly familiar yet foreign after all these years, wraps around me like a lifeline.

"Sky," he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper against my ear. "I'm so sorry."

His words are like a dagger to my heart. Sorry can’t undo the past, can't mend the shattered pieces of my trust, can't erase the years of pain and loneliness.

I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his in the dim light. "Seven years, Noah," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. "Seven years we could have had together."

He doesn't offer excuses or explanations, only a heartfelt apology that hangs heavy in the air. He knows as well as I do, that no words could make amends for what has been lost.

Noah pulls me closer, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my back as if trying to ease the pain etched into my soul. "I'll wait," he says, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "However long it takes, Sky. I'll wait for you to forgive me."

His words are a balm to my wounded heart, but forgiveness feels like an impossible mountain to climb. How can I possibly forgive him for the years of heartache and longing, for the memories that have been stolen from us?

Tears continue to well up in my eyes, and I let them fall unchecked, the salty droplets mingling with the whispered promises we share in the darkness.

The weight of the truth presses down on me, each revelation carving a deeper chasm of despair in my heart. Noah just holds me, his arms an anchor in the turbulent sea of emotions that threatens to drown me. His presence offers solace, but it can't erase the years of pain and questions that have festered in my soul.

"Sky," he whispers again, his breath warm against my skin, "I never wanted to hurt you. You have to believe that. I thought I was doing what was best."

His words are like a knife twisting in my chest. Believing him is a battle, one that is waged against the ghosts of my past, the scars that run deep, and the agony of knowing how much we've lost. How much I've lost.

I pull away from him, needing space to breathe, to think, to process the torrent of emotions that rages within me. My gaze meets his, and in his eyes, I see regret, remorse, and an unyielding love that hasn't wavered, despite the years of separation.

"Believing you is not the issue," I tell him, my voice trembling with pent-up anger and sorrow. "It's what believing you entails."

Noah's face contorts in pain, as if my words are a physical blow to his heart. He reaches out to touch my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that has escaped my eye. "I know," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I know what it means, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you'll let me."

The room feels too small, too suffocating, so I rise from the bed, needing space to think. To breathe. I pad over to the window and stare out at the night, the stars glittering in the sky like distant memories.

"Seven years, Noah," I murmur, my voice barely audible. "Seven years of thinking you'd betrayed me. Seven years of wondering why. Why would you hurt me like that?"

Noah stands up and approaches me cautiously, as if I’m a wounded animal ready to bolt at any moment. He doesn't touch me, but his presence is a comforting weight at my side.

"I thought it was the only way," he admits, his voice raw with the truth. "I thought if you believed I'd cheated on you, it would be easier for you to leave Thatcher's Bay, to chase your dreams. I didn't want to be the reason you stayed."

His words pierce my heart like a jagged knife, and I turn to face him, the pain and confusion etched into my features. "You should have let me make that choice, Noah," I say, my voice trembling. "You should have trusted me enough to make it with you."

His gaze bores into mine, a mix of sorrow and longing. "I know that now," he says, his voice heavy with regret.

The room is heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of what could have been. Forgiveness feels too distant in the horizon, one that might never come into full view. But for now, there is something else that needs to be said.

"Noah," I begin, my voice shaky, "I can't just forget the past seven years. The heartache, the loneliness, the memories we'll never get back."

He nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I understand, Sky. I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. But I want to make things right. I want a chance to build a future together, even if it means starting from scratch."

My heart aches at his words, the desire for a fresh start warring with the scars of the past. "I need time," I explain, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need time to heal, to figure out if I can ever trust you again."

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