Chapter 159: Hundred and Fifty Nine

I was reaching for my coffee when I saw it.

Declan’s phone, carelessly lying on his desk while he scrolled through emails. A single notification flashed at the top of the screen: a message preview. “Dinner still on tonight? – Sabrina”

The world shifted a little. My hand froze mid-motion, my chest tightening.

Dinner. With Sabrina. Dinner. ‘Still’ on?

I blinked. Twice. Three times. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought. Maybe it was nothing. But even that “nothing” carried years of history between them.

I tried to focus on my laptop, forcing myself to ignore the tension coiling in my stomach. The office hummed with chatter and the click of keyboards, but around me, the air seemed thick.

Declan’s voice broke through my daze.

“Willow? You okay?”

I didn’t look up. I couldn’t.

“You’ve been quiet all morning.”

“I’m fine,” I said, tight. Too tight. My words sounded brittle even to me.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not fine. What’s going on?”

I swallowed. Tried to breathe. Tried to convince myself this was about anything but what I’d just seen.

“I said I’m fine,” I repeated, sharper this time.

Declan sighed. “Willow, come on. I can tell when something’s wrong. Don’t do this.”

I finally looked up, and his expression: that soft, patient, slightly exasperated look that usually made me melt annoyed me.

“I… saw a text,” I admitted, voice shaking. “From… her.”

Declan froze. Then his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Sabrina?”

“Yes,” I snapped, the word harsher than I intended. “Dinner. She wants to know if you are still on for dinner.”

Declan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Willow…”

“Don’t ‘Willow’ me!” I said. My hands shook, and I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion. “Am I not enough? Why is she still… still around? You said you loved me. You promised. Have you been talking to her?”

“Willow, I do love you. I promised. I promise.” His voice was calm but firm. The kind of voice that could hold me steady if I let it.

I looked away, trying to control my rising panic. “Then why is she texting you? Why is she even in your life?”

Declan exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Because she’s my past. But she’s exactly that. The past. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. I swear.”

I wanted to believe him, I wanted to reach for him, but the hurt was too raw, too immediate. I shook my head.

“I… I can’t. I can’t just ignore it. I thought I could, but,”

“Willow,” he interrupted softly. “Come on. Don’t let her name hurt us. Please.”

“I… I nee to…” I stopped, feeling the tremor in my hands. I wanted to walk away, to disappear into the break room and shut out the world.

Declan stood, coming around the desk. He crouched slightly, just enough so his eyes were level with mine. His fingers reached for mine, tentative, and I flinched.

“Willow, look at me,” he said gently.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Look at me, please. I’m telling you the truth.” His voice had that raw edge now, the edge that I remembered from the nights we almost lost everything. “I’ve done nothing. I won’t do anything. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want. I swear it on Noah, on us, on everything I’ve ever meant to mean to you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Then why…” I sobbed, “Why does it still feel like she could take you away?”

Declan’s hands cupped my face. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, warm and grounding. “Because you love me too deeply,” he said, almost like a confession. “And I love you too. But that fear? That’s yours alone to carry. But I’ll carry it with you. I’ll prove it to you. Every day, if I have to.”

Tears threatened, and I closed my eyes against him. The anger, the jealousy, the hurt, they all collided inside me. My voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t know if I can do this. If I can trust it. If I can trust you.”

“You can,” he said. “Because I’ll keep showing you. You won’t ever have to wonder where I stand. I’m here. With you. Not with her, not with anyone else. With you. My mother is pushing her onto me, and I am not speaking with her. I haven’t, for a second.”

I felt his face get close to mine. Our breaths mingled, shaky, trembling. And in that closeness, the world outside for a moment, fell away.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I whispered.

“Then don’t. Just be with me. Let me hold you. Let me love you.”

And that’s what I did. I let him.

The tension, the worry, the jealousy, they melted slowly as I leaned into him, burying my face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and for the first time that morning, I let myself feel safe.

Minutes passed, maybe longer. The office faded. We didn’t need words anymore; the closeness said everything.

Finally, I lifted my head just enough to look at him. His eyes, so steady, so unyielding, held only me.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “I am yours.”

“Mine, always,” I breathed back.

We lingered a moment longer, just holding onto each other. Then Declan smiled, teasing lightly, the sound a balm to my frayed nerves.

“See? You can stop glaring at me now.”

I smacked his chest lightly. “You have no right to make me feel jealous.”

“None whatsoever,” he admitted, grinning. “But admit it, you were a little jealous.”

I rolled my eyes but laughed softly.

He kissed the top of my head, low and warm. “No more secrets. Just us. No one else, dove. Never again,” he sighed, “We’re gonna have only good days, now. You and me.”