Chapter 74 You Can’t Force Love
Liam’s POV
The days passed in a blur, but one thing remained constant. I never left Mia’s side.
I waited for her before class, walked with her after, and during breaks, I always found her. It felt like after everything that had gone wrong, I was finally choosing her without hesitation.
During lunch, we went back to her favorite spot under the acacia tree at the edge of the campus garden. The breeze was soft that afternoon, and sunlight filtered through the leaves above us, casting warm shadows across the grass.
“You really don’t need to be here, Liam,” Mia said as we sat down, her voice gentle but firm. “Stacy has been glaring at me nonstop since Monday. I don’t want her to hate you even more.”
I gave her a teasing grin. “And leave my girlfriend all alone?”
The way her eyes widened almost made me laugh.
She tried not to smile, but she failed. The word girlfriend seemed to hang between us, soft and unreal. Even now, she looked like she could not believe it. After everything we had been through, all the hurt and confusion, we had found our way back to this.
Back to us.
I noticed her quiet smile. “What?” I asked softly.
She looked at me, her chest rising as if she were holding something fragile inside. “You called me your girlfriend,” she murmured.
I leaned back on my elbows and looked at her like she was the only thing worth looking at. “Because you are.”
Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, everything else faded.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
She blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m not real,” I said with a small chuckle, then more seriously, “like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”
She lowered her gaze to the grass between her fingers. “Maybe because I never thought this would happen again. You and me. Like this.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, then moved closer until our knees brushed. I took her hand gently. “Mia,” I said, my voice low and honest. “Don’t lose hope in everything. Even when we were apart, even when I was too much of a coward to say it, I never stopped thinking about you. I imagined this a thousand times, and none of those dreams come close to how good it feels to be with you now.”
I swallowed before adding, “I’m sorry if I made you cry.”
She looked at me, her eyes shining with something she refused to name. Her chest rose and fell, and then she looked away, like she was protecting parts of herself she had only just begun to rebuild.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Liam,” she said calmly. “But I didn’t cry because of you.”
A lie.
I tilted my head, a small smile forming as I stepped closer. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” she insisted, but her voice cracked.
I lifted my hand slowly and cupped her cheek. My thumb brushed over her skin, light and careful, like I was afraid she might break.
“Even if you did,” I whispered, “I’d deserve every single tear.” I leaned in slightly, my eyes locked on hers. “But this face should never cry because of a boy like me.”
She blinked hard, but the tears still came. I could see how badly she wanted to believe me. How badly she wanted to forget all the pain I had caused.
“Then don’t make me cry again,” she whispered.
Something shifted inside me. A longing so strong it hurt.
“I won’t,” I said without hesitation. “Not ever again. I swear it.”
Before she could pull away or overthink it, I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers.
The world faded. There was only her and me, standing in the quiet space between regret and forgiveness, between goodbye and I’m still yours.
Slowly, I tilted her chin up and kissed her. It was not rushed or desperate. It was soft and filled with all the words I still did not know how to say.
She melted into me, her hands gripping my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. And in that kiss, she felt everything.
The ache, the promise, and the beginning of something we might still get right.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless and shaking, I whispered against her lips, “Let me make this right.”
Later, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the empty parking lot in a dull orange glow. I wiped the sweat from my forehead after practice and walked toward my car, only to stop when I saw Stacy leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed, heels tapping against the pavement.
“What are you doing here, Stacy?” I asked, tired and wary.
She smiled sweetly, though it never reached her eyes. “I sent my driver home. We’re having dinner at my house tonight. Your parents are already there, and I’m pretty sure your dad will lose his temper if we don’t show up together.”
I exhaled, my jaw tightening. I should have known. My father always knew how to use Stacy like a leash.
She stepped closer. “Don’t worry,” she said smoothly. “I won’t tell them what you did today. Your little lunchtime stunt with your girlfriend. So adorable.”
She practically spat the word before slipping into the passenger seat like she belonged there.
I stood there for a moment, my pulse pounding, then got into the driver’s seat and shut the door harder than necessary.
“Stacy,” I said quietly, gripping the steering wheel. “I know I hurt you. But you’ve always known what this was. This isn’t love. It’s an arrangement. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
She leaned back, smiling calmly, though her eyes were sharp. “I’ve loved you since we were kids. That hasn’t changed. Maybe you don’t love me yet, but you will.”
I turned to her, disbelief burning in my chest. “You can’t force love.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I can wait until you realize Mia isn’t the girl for you. She doesn’t belong in our world. Let her dream for a while. She’ll wake up eventually.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“I can call her whatever I want, Liam. You can’t stop me. Your parents were the ones who asked my parents to make me your fiancée, and there’s nothing you can do about it. They love me, and you should accept that by now,” she said, anger flashing across her face.
“You can break up with her now,” she added calmly. “Or let her keep living in a fantasy she’ll never fit into. Either way, I’ll still be here. In the end, I’ll be your wife.”
I stared straight ahead, anger and helplessness boiling under my skin, barely held in check.
“Just don’t go near Mia,” I said quietly. “And tell your friends to back off.”
She only hummed and turned up the radio.
The rest of the drive was silent, tension thick in the air.
As I watched the road stretch out ahead of me, all I could think about was Mia. Her smile. Her voice. The peace I felt whenever I was with her.
I tightened my grip on the wheel. I had to protect her, no matter what it cost me.