Chapter 37 I always reach the edge
Veronica's POV:
'Love is not what you do... Love is what you are... Love never tests you... it embraces you...' I swear that I must have heard this quote somewhere on Instagram a while ago... now I totally understand the meaning of it.
I dropped my phone onto the mat beside me and started walking toward the waves, my steps unsteady, dizziness washing over me as a memory from my past rose uninvited in my mind.
Chase was standing across from me, fury blazing in his eyes. On the table beside me lay a neatly folded stack of laundry.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?” he barked.
I stared at him, stunned by his sudden anger. All I had done was wash his clothes and iron them—just like I always did. Usually, he barely noticed my effort. But I believed that, deep down, he felt loved because of my hard work. That belief had always kept me going.
But this time, he was furious.
“Look at this,” he snapped, holding up his limited-edition Rolex.
My heart dropped. It was ruined. God… I must not have checked his pockets before putting his pants into the laundry.
“Do you have any idea how expensive this is?” he continued, his piercing stare cutting straight through me. “This watch was custom-made for me. On my personal order. And you just destroyed it.”
The guilt crushed my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I feel terrible for letting you down.”
I thought he would let it go. I truly believed that once the initial shock wore off, Chase would calm down, maybe sigh in irritation, maybe complain about a while—but eventually move on.
That was what always happened. That was what I had trained myself to expect.
But instead, his voice rose.
“You think this is a joke?” he snapped, sounding very sharp and unforgiving.
Each word made me shrink further into myself, as if I were being physically pressed down. His anger filled the room, leaving no space for me to breathe, making me feel anxious to my core.
“Do you even know what your problem is?” Chase continued. “You’re childish. Completely immature. No wonder your father expects me to pamper you for the rest of your life. Honestly, I’m done with your stupidity.”
He turned his back on me.
Panic shot through my chest.
No... No, I couldn’t let him walk away like that. I couldn’t let him leave thinking I was useless, careless, unworthy. I needed to fix this—and prove myself. I must show him that I deserved to be his partner.
“Baby, I’m really sorry,” I said desperately, rushing toward him. I reached out, trying to wrap my arms around him, trying to soothe the damage I’d caused.
But before I could touch him, he grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it to the floor, right in front of my feet. The crash was deafening to hear.
Glass exploded across the marble floor, shards scattering everywhere. I screamed involuntarily, jumping back as pieces skidded toward me.
The vase had been sitting beneath a framed photo—one from our first anniversary. Chase and I stood smiling in the center, my parents on either side. My father looked so proud in that picture. So satisfied. As if my relationship with Chase validated me in his eyes.
I stared at the shattered glass, frozen in horror.
“Sorry I can’t fix my watch,” Chase said coldly. “And neither does this vase. Once damage is done, it’s done.”
Something inside me collapsed.
I stood there, shaking, tears spilling down my face as I tried not to make a sound. I didn’t argue. I didn’t defend myself. I just stood still, hoping—praying—that my silence would finally make him acknowledge me, or atleast forgive me for what I've done.
Instead, he went on with it further.
“I’m going to make your father pay for the damage you did to my watch,” he said casually. “I bet he’ll be very proud of you.”
“No,” I whispered, my breath hitching. “Please… not my father.”
My eyes darted back to the photo on the wall where my father’s smile was wide and genuine, proud that I was Chase’s girl. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t find out that I had disappointed Chase.
“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking completely.
“If you want the money… I’ll pay for it,” I said desperately. “From my mom’s account. Not from my Dad... Will that be okay?”
Chase stared at me for a long moment. Then he muttered something under his breath... something sharp and ugly like he was cursing me... and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
I collapsed onto the couch.
For more than three hours, I didn’t move.
I just sat there, crying silently, staring at the shattered glass on the floor and the empty space where the vase used to be.
My body felt numb, my chest heavy with shame and exhaustion. Every thought spiraled back to the same question: Why was I too careless?
Eventually, Chase returned.
He sat beside me, his tone suddenly gentle, his hand brushing my hair like none of the violence had happened.
“You need to be more careful next time,” he said softly. “You should try harder. But don’t worry—I didn’t tell your father anything.”
Relief flooded me instantly, so strong it made me dizzy.
Thank God.
Thank God I still had a chance to prove myself to Chase and my father.
But even as I nodded obediently, something painful settled deeper inside my heart.
Why did I always have to earn love? Why was it never given freely?
Why did every attempt to make my father proud end in humiliation... every time I came close to doing something remarkable... only to have it snatched away at the last moment?
I always reached the edge. And I always fell.
And somehow, I had been taught to believe that the fall was my fault.