Chapter 131 Pictures taken

Chapter 131 Pictures taken
Chapter 131: Pictures taken 

Roy stood very still on the hill, the night air brushing against his face as the gun trembled in Coco’s hand. Her arm was rigid, her shoulders tight, her eyes wet and wild with a pain he recognized too well. He could hear her breathing ragged, uneven as if every breath hurt.

“Do it,” Roy said quietly.

Coco blinked at him. “What?” Her voice cracked.

“If that’s what you need,” he said, steady despite the cold fear creeping into his chest, “then go ahead and shoot me.”

Her lips parted. “Roy…”

“I’m not running,” he continued. “I’m not begging. I’m right here.”

She stared at him like she didn’t recognize him anymore. “You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” he said. “I think it’s killing you.”

Her hand shook harder.

“You think I wanted any of this?” she demanded. “You think I wanted to be pushed out like trash? You think I wanted to lose everything I built? You think I wanted to hurt you?”

Roy swallowed. “Yes. From the beginning till now.”

“Then why are you standing there like this is some kind of mercy?” she shouted. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because I’m tired too,” he said softly. “And because I love you.”

The wind rushed past them, bending the grass low, carrying the weight of the moment with it. Coco’s vision blurred as tears finally spilled over, hot and relentless. Her finger tightened again, then froze.

She saw his face, not the politician, not the man on posters and screens but the Roy she had known. The one who used to sit with her in silence and somehow make it feel full. The one who trusted her mind more than his own. The one who had once told her, If I fall, you’re the only one I trust to pull me back.

A sharp, broken sound tore out of her chest.

“No,” she whispered.

Her arm dropped suddenly. The gun slipped from her hand and fell into the grass with a dull thud.

She staggered forward, collapsing into him.

Roy barely had time to react before she was against his chest, her arms wrapping around him tightly, desperately, as if letting go would tear her apart. Her face buried itself in his jacket, her body shaking with sobs she had held back for far too long.

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Roy stood there, stunned.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His hands hovered at his sides, unsure, conflicted. His mind raced—Inna, the campaign, the danger, the history, the consequences. Every instinct told him to be careful. Every lesson he’d learned in the past year screamed restraint.

But Coco’s sobs cut through all of it.

She clutched him like he was the only solid thing left in a collapsing world. Her shoulders trembled violently, her breath hitching in painful gasps.

“I’m so tired, Roy,” she said through tears. “I’m so tired of fighting everyone. Of proving myself. Of being alone even when I’m surrounded by people.”

His jaw tightened. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Roy lifted his arms and rested them against her back.

She froze for half a second, then cried harder.

After a long moment, he pulled her closer, holding her properly now, firmly, like he meant it. One hand pressed gently between her shoulder blades, the other resting against her arm, grounding her.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure it was. “I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curled into his jacket like she was afraid he might disappear.

“I hate them,” she whispered. “I hate what they’ve done. I hate what they’ve turned me into.”

“You’re still you,” Roy said. “They haven’t taken that.”

She shook her head against his chest. “They’ve taken everything else.”

They stood there like that for a long time, the night wrapping around them, the city humming far below as if nothing monumental had just happened.

Eventually, Coco’s sobs softened into quiet, exhausted breaths. Her body still trembled, but the sharpness had dulled. Roy rested his chin briefly against the top of her head, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

The gesture surprised them both.

She stiffened, then slowly relaxed again.

“I didn’t come here to complicate things,” he said quietly. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were red, swollen, but clear in a way they hadn’t been earlier.

“You’re confused,” she said.

“Yes,” he admitted.

She gave a weak, humorless smile. “You always are.”

He exhaled softly. “Sit with me.”

He guided her down onto the grass, settling first before pulling her gently with him. Coco sat between his legs, leaning back into his chest, his arms wrapping around her loosely but protectively.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The grass was cool beneath them. The cigarette had burned out somewhere nearby, forgotten. The gun lay hidden in the grass, irrelevant now.

Roy stared out at the city lights, his thoughts tangled.

“This can’t happen,” he said finally, more to himself than to her.

Coco didn’t move. “I know.”

“I’m married,” he continued, his voice heavy. “The campaign, everything is fragile right now.”

“I know,” she repeated.

He frowned slightly. “Then why does this feel like the only place I can breathe?”

She closed her eyes.

“Because this is where you were real,” she said. “Before everything became strategy and optics.”

He sighed. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it makes it honest.”

They sat in silence again.

Roy’s confusion deepened. Holding her felt natural, familiar, dangerous. Every instinct warred with every responsibility he carried. He knew how this would look if anyone saw them. He knew how easily this could be twisted, used, destroyed.

Yet he didn’t let go.

Far away, partially concealed behind a line of trees and parked vehicles, Vill watched through the lens of a camera.

He adjusted the focus carefully, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face as the frame sharpened.

Coco in Roy’s arms. Her head against his chest. His arms around her.

Click, another angle. More clicks. 

He zoomed in on Roy’s face, the softness there unmistakable.

Another click.

Vill lowered the camera slightly, reviewing the images with clear amusement.

“So predictable,” he murmured.

He took a few more shots for good measure, making sure the story could never be denied.

Then he stepped back into the shadows, already planning how and when the world would see what he had just captured.

On the hill, unaware, Coco leaned back into Roy’s arms as the night stretched on around them, fragile and false in its calm.