Page 87 of Shattered Obsession

A weight pinning me down.

I blink hard.

“I just don’t want to be broken anymore.” The words spill out before I can stop them. I’ve never told anyone that, not even Isla. But with Xander, the truth slips out like my body has been waiting for the moment to release it.

He looks like he’s been stabbed.

I want to protest, to explain that I know he didn't mean to frighten me, but the undeniable reality sits heavily on my heart.

I am scared. And he knows it too.

CHAPTER THIRTY

-Xander-

Watching her tremble, nearly unraveling in front of me, ignites a fierce desire to annihilate the part of me that caused this fear. I kneel in front of her chair, mindful of the distance, careful not to crowd her.

“You’re safe with me,” I whisper, feeling my voice tremble. “Even when I’m angry, even when I lose my control, I will never hurt you. I need you to believe that.” Those words tumble from my lips like a pledge, but deep down, I realize that mere promises won’t suffice. I have to prove it, to her and to myself. With time, with restraint, with every ounce of strength I possess.

Our eyes lock, and I see them glimmering with unshed tears, revealing a crack in her facade. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s a testament to her exhaustion, a woman who has battled countless storms and is weary from the relentless fight. Slowly, cautiously, I extend a hand toward her, palm open and waiting.

-Thalia-

A weighty stillness envelops the space between us. For what feels like an eternity, I remain motionless, the silence thick with all the unsaid words we’ve hurled at one another and the countless others that linger unarticulated. But his hand remains there, steady, patient, not demanding or forceful. That unwavering presence compels me to reach back. My fingers tremble as I place my hand in his; it feels delicate and small, yet it signifies a hopeful beginning, simple yet profound. The moment our palms touch, something inside me loosens, like a knot beginning to unravel.

He doesn’t pull.

He waits.

I didn’t know waiting could feel like love.

With Damian, silence was a countdown.

With Xander, silence is a choice.

When I wake the next morning, an unsettling feeling permeates the atmosphere, making everything seem fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. I find myself attuned to every sound around me. The creaking of the floorboards under Xander’s weight, the gentle bubbling of the coffee maker, the soft clang of the fridge door as it swings open. Instead of recoiling at the noises, this time, I commit them to memory. They are his sounds; they denote safety, and they remind me how deeply I want to hold onto this fleeting moment.

At first, we navigate the morning like cautious dancers, moving around one another, silent and tentative. But then, Xander places a plate of toast in front of me, a simple offering devoid of expectation or commentary. Just… food. A warmth blooms in my chest at his kindness.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely escaping my lips. He nods in acknowledgment, choosing to slide into the chair beside me instead of across the table. Our knees brush against each other, and for the first time in days, I resist the urge to retreat. Instead, I lean into the familiar comfort of his presence. The touch is feather-light, accidental.

Or maybe not.

My body reacts before I can think, every nerve flaring at once.

But instead of fear, warmth spreads down my spine.

He doesn’t notice, not really. He’s too focused on eating toast like he’s trying not to scare it.

A laugh slips out.

Soft. Genuine.

His head snaps toward me, eyes wide.

“There it is,” he murmurs.

My cheeks flush. “What?”