AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I twist the cap off again, the burn of whiskey a welcome sting as it courses down my throat.
"Then, a year into what was supposed to be forever, I found out about him... and her." The words tumble from my lips, heavy with betrayal. "My bridesmaid—my friend. He was cheating on me with her."
Constantino doesn't speak, but his eyes, those green pools of intensity, never waver from mine. They're a silent command, urging me to continue spilling the darkness festering inside me.
"Everyone knew," I whisper, my fingers tightening around the bottle. "All of them—the whole damn circle we'd built. And not one person thought to tell me."
His jaw clenches, a subtle yet fierce reaction. I can see the disdain etched into every line of his face, a mirror to my own disgust.
"Medical school became my sanctuary and prison all at once." I take another swig, the liquor dulling the sharp edges of memory. "But even there, I felt more alone than ever. My sister was miles away, living her life, while I was unraveling."
"Your sister?" he probes, his voice a low growl.
"Isabella," I say. "She was just an undergrad then, caught up in her own world. We weren't close—not like we should have been."
"Family should be there for you," Constantino mutters, almost to himself. I study his profile—a statue carved from shadows and secrets.
"Should be," I echo, the bitterness coating my tongue. It's easier, somehow, to bare your soul when the night cloaks you in anonymity.
The bottle makes its way back to me, and I don't hesitate. I'm drunker than I've meant to be, the room spinning ever so slightly, but it doesn't stop the floodgates.
"The worst part," I confess, my voice a hoarse thread, "was that even after everything crumbled, I still wanted to fix us. I begged him to go to counseling." I laugh, the sound awkward and jagged. "Pathetic, right?"
He shakes his head, reaching out to steady the bottle in my hand. "Not pathetic. You fought for something you believed in. That takes guts."
"Doesn't feel like it," I admit, avoiding his gaze. "Now he's the one crawling back. Keeps messaging me, saying it was all a mistake, that he wants me back."
"Back?" Constantino's voice is edged with something dangerous. "After all that?"
"Yep. I block him every time, but he finds a way." I snort, my laughter tinged with scorn. "Persistent bastard."
"Good on you, though. Not letting him slither back in." There's approval in his tone, and it warms me more than the whiskey does.
"Have to stand for something, right?" I lean back against the wall, the coolness of it seeping through my clothes. "Even if it's just your pride."
He nods, and we sit there, two souls adrift in the night's embrace, bound by our broken pieces and the silence that speaks volumes.
Fingers trembling, I twist the cap back onto the whiskey bottle and shove it aside. Constantino watches me, eyes like twin emeralds in the low light of his room, flickering with a mix of concern and something harder to pinpoint.
"Never let that asshole back into your life," he says, his voice low and gruff. "You're better than that."
"I know." The words are thick on my tongue, saturated with alcohol and the bitter taste of past regrets. "But it wasn't easy, you know? For so long, who I was... it was all about 'us.' When 'us' vanished, I didn't know who 'me' was anymore."
"Sounds like hell." He leans back, arms crossed, a statue carved in shadows and muscle.
"More like purgatory. Had to fall in love with the person in the mirror. That's still a work in progress." I chuckle, but it's forced, echoing off the walls of the room. "My whole life, someone else has been pulling the strings. My dad pushed me into med school. Before that, it was always someone else's plan, someone else's dream."
"Except for this, right?" His gaze narrows, curious despite itself. "Getting tangled up with me?"
"Exactly." I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "My sister warned me about you. Said you were dangerous—" I hold up a hand as he starts to speak, "—and she was right. But I didn't care. For once, it was my choice. Mine alone."
He nods slowly, a silent acknowledgement of my small rebellion. "I get that. Making your own path. But why do you keep beating yourself down, Evelyn? What's with the self-flagellation?"
A lump forms in my throat, and I have to swallow hard before I can respond. "Old habits, I guess." I glance at his leather-wristbanded arm, wondering if it's hiding more than just inked secrets. "Sometimes we wear our scars on the inside."
"Scars heal," he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "Or they become part of us. Either way, you survive."
"Surviving doesn't feel like enough sometimes." I look into his green eyes, trying to find solace in their depths, but fearing the darkness that might lurk there too.
