Chapter Forty Two

Chris thought he’d be able to see those pictures again.

He gave a bittersweet smile after finishing his painting, stood up, and stared at the shelf from across the room. Slowly, he walked toward it. His hands trembled as he pulled the key from his pocket. The metal jingled in his unsteady grip, and a band-like pressure wrapped around his head as he slid the key into the lock.

He exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling in short, panicked bursts. His heart thudded beneath his palm as he tried to steady it. He shut his eyes, opened them again, and drew a deep breath—but it did nothing to stop the trembling in his limbs.

He wasn’t ready.

Realizing he didn’t have the courage, Chris turned away from the shelf. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his eyes shimmered with tears he refused to let fall.

I still can’t do this. I just... can’t, he thought, trudging out of the room.

He left the key behind.

Only after draining a bottle of wine did he remember. When he returned to retrieve it, he stopped cold.

Isa stood by the shelf.

The drawer was open, pictures and paintings spilled across it like broken memories.

Chris froze.

A chill surged through him as his gaze swept over the torn and crumpled photos. His eyes landed on Stacy’s painting resting on the shelf. He looked away instantly. His fists clenched until his knuckles went pale. He tried to breathe, but his stomach roiled. It was like his insides had been yanked out and left exposed.

With a shaky breath and a faint tremor in his head, Chris slowly met Isa’s gaze. His heart gave a sharp, painful tug when her eyes locked with his—raw, searching, betrayed.

His throat tightened. Her smirk barely masked the heartbreak in her eyes. Tears glistened, refusing to fall.

Could she ever forgive me?

The thought tightened something inside his chest. He had lied to her. Pushed her away. Hurt her.

Chris opened his mouth, but no words came out. His voice had drowned somewhere beneath the weight of regret. He looked away, his eyes stinging.

“Fine.”

Chris’s breath hitched at her voice—quiet, strained.

“If this is what you want,” she whispered, “I’m quitting.”

Silence collapsed over the room. The air thickened, heavy and cold, as if time itself had stalled.

The walls blurred around him. Chris’s knees weakened, and he clutched the doorframe for support. He shut his eyes, heart slamming wildly against his ribs. His breath thinned. His head felt light, detached.

He leaned his forehead against the cold, piercing metal and squeezed his eyes shut. Everything was crashing in at once.

This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? For her to leave. For her to quit.

But now, the hollow inside his chest stretched wide, aching as though something had just been torn out of him.

That’s when he realized—his heart hadn’t been as empty as he thought.

Her memory came rushing back: the sound of her footsteps in his home, the tension in the office, the way she flinched whenever he walked in. The quiet unease between them, and the strange comfort of it all. Even without words, she had made him feel alive.

But it was too late.

Too late to reach for her. Too late to hold on to what might have been.

She had discovered who he really was. And now, she had to leave.

She couldn’t stay near him—not anymore.

He’d seen it in her eyes. For the first time, she hadn’t looked away. She hadn’t flinched. The fear had vanished, melted into the silence like mist.

Chris’s nails dug into the wall. Sweat clung to his skin. His shirt stuck to his back.

She had made the right choice.

But then—he heard it. Her footsteps, fast and furious, heading for the door.

Chris opened his eyes. He sucked in a trembling breath as she walked past him without a word. He parted his lips, but they trembled and closed again. He tried to raise his hand, to stop her—but it wouldn’t move.

Tears spilled down his cheeks as he watched her leave.

With every step, she grew smaller. Farther. Gone.

Her laughter echoed in his memory. The bright smile of the girl she used to be.

He saw himself again, months ago, peering through his office window just to watch her work.

Chris clenched his teeth as she turned a corner—and disappeared from sight.

His legs gave way.

He collapsed to the floor.

Burying his face in his lap, he sobbed, the sound muffled behind clenched teeth. His shoulders trembled, his body rocked with grief.

Everything was quiet again. Empty again.

This time, including his heart.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. I’m really sorry for the late update—things have been a bit hectic lately. But I’ll do my best to post at least two chapters each week. I truly appreciate your patience and support! 💛