The moment my lips crashed against hers, I felt everything I had been trying to ignore.
The anger. The betrayal. The need.
Clara gasped into the kiss, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands gripped the sides of my face, holding onto me like she was afraid I’d disappear.
I should have pulled back. I should have stopped this before it got worse.
But I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to.
Her fingers tangled in my hair as I deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of confusion and frustration into it. Clara responded just as fiercely, her body pressing against mine, desperate, hungry.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.
It was a storm.
And I was drowning.
I don’t know how long we stood there, tangled in each other, but when I finally pulled back, my chest was heaving.
Clara’s eyes were dark, filled with something that made my pulse hammer.
I took a step back, my hands trembling. “I...”
Clara shook her head, cutting me off. “Don’t say it.”
I swallowed hard. “Say what?”
“That it was a mistake.” Her voice was raw, quiet.
I clenched my jaw, because the truth was—I didn’t think it was a mistake.
I just didn’t know if it meant anything.
Clara exhaled, looking down. “I know you’re still angry.”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to clear my head. “This doesn’t change anything.”
She looked up, her expression unreadable. “Doesn’t it?”
I hated how much I wanted to say yes.
But I couldn’t lie to her. Not anymore.
I avoided her for the rest of the day.
It wasn’t intentional.
But every time I saw her, I felt that same heat, that same ache clawing at my chest.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
Marcelo and Leo kept their distance, pretending not to notice the tension between us. Evelyn, on the other hand, was not as subtle.
“You’re being stupid,” she said, dropping into the chair across from me.
I sighed. “Not now, Evelyn.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now isn’t a good time to talk about the fact that you’re clearly losing your mind over her?”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer.
Evelyn smirked. “Thought so.”
She leaned forward, her voice dropping. “Look, I don’t care about whatever complicated, messy thing is happening between you and Clara. But what I do care about is the fact that we still have a war to win.”
I exhaled sharply. “I know that.”
“Then start acting like it,” she said simply. “Because Richard isn’t going to wait for you to figure out your feelings.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
But that didn’t mean I knew how to fix it.
That night, I found Clara on the balcony.
She was staring at the city lights, arms crossed, lost in thought.
I hesitated before stepping out. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “Something like that.”
The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what to do with this, Clara.”
She exhaled, finally looking at me. “Neither do I.”
I clenched my fists. “I hate that you lied to me.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
I swallowed hard. “But I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”
Clara’s breath hitched.
I took a step closer, searching her eyes. “Tell me how to fix this.”
She gave me a sad smile. “You’re the only one who can.”
And that terrified me.
Because I didn’t know if I could.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.
Clara was still on my mind, lingering in every thought, every breath.
I walked into the kitchen and froze when I saw her standing there, wearing one of my hoodies, her hair messy from sleep.
She looked… soft. Vulnerable.
Like the woman I had fallen for before the lies.
Before Richard.
Her eyes met mine, something hesitant in her gaze.
“Morning,” she murmured.
I swallowed, nodding. “Morning.”
She shifted on her feet, as if debating something. Then, finally, she spoke.
“Are we going to talk about it?”
I exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what to say.”
Clara bit her lip. “Then let me.”
I nodded, bracing myself.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. Hell, I don’t even expect you to trust me right now. But I need you to know that what we have—what I feel for you—it was never a lie.”
I clenched my fists, the weight of her words pressing into me.
“I love you, Bela,” she whispered. “That hasn’t changed.”
My heart clenched painfully.
I wanted to believe her.
But the fear of another betrayal still lingered.
I stepped closer, my voice hoarse. “Then prove it.”
She held my gaze. “Tell me how.”
I hesitated, then finally said what had been on my mind since the moment Richard exposed the truth.
“Tell me everything.”
Clara inhaled sharply but nodded. “Okay.”
For the next hour, she told me everything.
About how Richard had lured her into his world, promising her safety but giving her nothing but control and manipulation.
How she had spent years trying to escape him, but every time she did, he found a way to pull her back.
How, when she met me, she wanted to tell me.
But she was terrified I’d walk away.
And she was right.
Because even now, even as she sat in front of me, giving me everything I had asked for, part of me was still screaming to run.
To protect myself.
But another part of me—the part that loved her—was telling me to stay.
To fight for her.
To fight for us.
When she finished, she looked at me, waiting.
Holding her breath.
And I knew she was waiting for my verdict.
For my choice.
I took a deep breath.
And then, finally, I spoke.
“I don’t know how to trust you again.”
Her face fell, but she nodded. “I understand.”
I reached for her hand, intertwining our fingers.
“But I want to try.”
Clara’s breath hitched, her grip tightening.
And for the first time in days, I saw hope in her eyes.
Maybe we were broken.
But we weren’t beyond repair.