The drive back to the apartment was suffocating. No one spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional labored breath from Leo, still recovering from the fight.
Marcelo was behind the wheel, jaw clenched, his grip on the steering wheel tight. Evelyn sat in the passenger seat, her laptop open on her knees, scanning for any sign of Richard’s next move.
Clara was beside me in the backseat, but she felt miles away.
She hadn’t tried to talk to me since we escaped.
And I wasn’t ready to hear her.
The weight of her lies sat between us like an open wound, festering, poisoning every second that passed.
I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, knowing that as soon as we got back, we were going to have to face this.
Face us.
And I didn’t know if I was ready for that.
The moment we stepped inside, Leo collapsed onto the couch with a groan.
“Somebody remind me why I keep getting dragged into this mess,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
Marcelo tossed a first-aid kit onto the table. “Because you’re an idiot.”
Leo smirked weakly. “Sounds about right.”
Evelyn ignored them, already diving back into work, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
“I need time to track Richard,” she said. “He won’t stay hidden for long.”
Marcelo nodded, but his gaze flickered toward me.
He knew I was barely holding it together.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Clara hadn’t moved from the doorway, standing stiffly, as if waiting for something.
Waiting for me.
I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
“Talk,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.
Marcelo and Leo exchanged a glance before silently leaving the room, giving us privacy.
Clara inhaled sharply. “Bela…”
I turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. “Tell me everything.”
She hesitated for only a moment before nodding, as if she had already prepared for this.
“I met Richard years ago,” she admitted. “Before I met you. Before any of this.”
Her voice was calm, but I could see the tension in her body, the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
“I was young. Stupid. Desperate,” she continued. “And he offered me a way out of a bad situation. I didn’t realize I was trading one prison for another.”
My chest tightened.
“How deep were you in?”
Clara exhaled slowly. “Deep enough.”
The admission cut through me like a blade.
She had been in his world.
The same world I had been fighting to destroy.
I swallowed hard. “Did you love him?”
The question hung between us, heavy and suffocating.
“No,” she said immediately, shaking her head. “It was never love. It was control. Power. He wanted me to be his pawn, and for a while… I let him.”
I clenched my jaw. “And you never thought to tell me?”
She flinched. “I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you,” she whispered. “Of you looking at me like you are right now.”
I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. “And what did you think would happen when I found out like this?”
Clara swallowed hard, stepping closer. “I didn’t expect him to use it against me. Against us.”
My breath caught.
Us.
She was still thinking of us.
But was there still an us?
I looked into her eyes, searching for something—truth, regret, anything that would make this feel less like a betrayal.
“Do you regret it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She exhaled shakily. “I regret not telling you sooner.”
Not exactly the answer I wanted.
But maybe the only one she could give.
I took a step back, needing space, needing air. “I don’t know how to move forward from this.”
Clara’s face crumpled slightly, but she nodded, as if she had expected this.
“Then I’ll wait,” she murmured. “For as long as it takes.”
And that was the problem.
I didn’t know if time would fix this.
Or if it would just make me realize that we were broken beyond repair.
The next few days passed in a haze.
I kept my distance from Clara, throwing myself into work, into tracking Richard, into anything that didn’t involve facing the mess inside my own head.
Clara respected my space.
But I could feel her.
Watching. Waiting.
And it was driving me insane.
One night, I found myself standing outside her bedroom door, my fist hovering just above the wood.
I wanted to knock.
I wanted to open that door and let her pull me into her arms, let her make me forget, even if just for a little while.
But I couldn’t.
Instead, I walked away.
Days later, it was Clara who finally snapped first.
I was in the kitchen, staring at my untouched coffee, when she walked in.
“Are we just going to pretend this isn’t happening?” she asked, her voice sharp.
I looked up at her, exhaustion pressing down on me. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to talk to me.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s ironic, coming from you.”
Her eyes darkened. “I know I messed up. But I didn’t betray you, Bela. I didn’t choose Richard over you. I chose you.”
I clenched my fists. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
The conviction in her voice shook me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
And then, suddenly, she was in front of me, grabbing my face, forcing me to look at her.
“I love you,” she whispered fiercely. “And I’m not letting Richard take this from us.”
My breath hitched.
Because despite everything, I believed her.
And that scared me more than anything else.
I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch. “Clara…”
“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll walk away,” she said, her voice shaking.
I opened my eyes, looking at the woman who had turned my world upside down.
The woman I loved, despite everything.
Despite the lies.
Despite the past.
And I couldn’t say it.
Because it would be a lie.
Instead, I kissed her.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like I needed her to breathe.
Like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
She gasped against my lips, but she didn’t pull away.
She kissed me back with the same hunger, the same desperation.
And for the first time in days, I let myself feel.
I let myself want.
Because no matter how much this hurt…
I couldn’t let her go.