Chapter 16: A Daunting Mess

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something, to break something, to undo everything that had ever happened between us.

But most of all, I wanted to stop feeling this way.

The desire in my chest pulsed like a heartbeat I couldn’t silence. I tried to bury it—tried to shove it down where it belonged—but the harder I pushed, the stronger it clawed its way up again. I could still see the look in his eyes when I slapped him, the way pain and disbelief twisted across his face, how his hand lingered in the air like he didn’t know what to do with it anymore.

He hadn’t expected it. Maybe he didn’t think I was capable of it. Maybe I didn’t either.

When he tried to pull me against him again, something inside me snapped all over again.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice cracking as I shoved him away with all the strength I had left. My hands trembled against his chest, and the tears that I’d been fighting for what felt like hours finally blurred my vision. “Just—don’t, Kevin.”

His expression shifted from shock to something that looked a lot like desperation. But I couldn’t let him speak. I couldn’t bear to hear another word.

“Isn’t it too much already?” The words came out choked, broken between sobs. “Isn’t it too much that I have to deal with all of this—this ridiculous circus of an engagement—and the fact that my father just found out how miserable I am about it?” I took a shaky breath and wiped my tears with the back of my hand, but they kept coming. “I was supposed to be happy for him, Kevin! I was supposed to smile and pretend everything made sense!”

My throat burned as I forced the next words out. “I don’t need you making it worse.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. It was thick and heavy and cruel. He didn’t try to interrupt. He just stood there, breathing hard, his jaw clenched, eyes flicking between mine like he was searching for some trace of the girl who used to melt when he touched her.

But I couldn’t be her right now.

The words came out before I could stop them, sharp and unforgiving. “I already regret meeting you in that stupid club in the first place—”

His head snapped slightly, his face tightening.

“—and having that ridiculous one-night stand with you!” I finished, my voice trembling.

As soon as I said it, I wished I could pull it back. The hurt that flashed across his face was instant—raw and real. His mouth parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. The silence between us deepened, swallowing the air.

It hurt to look at him.

Because underneath all the anger, all the chaos, I knew the truth. What I felt for him wasn’t some reckless mistake or a forbidden craving I could wish away. It was love—shameless, consuming, terrifying love.

And that realization hit me harder than anything else.

My heart twisted painfully as he just stared at me, his eyes cold but glinting with something deeper. Maybe sadness. Maybe resentment. Maybe both.

For a moment, it looked like he might say something—anything—to fill the awful gap between us. But then his jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and he muttered under his breath, almost too quietly to catch, “Fuck it.”

He turned abruptly and stormed toward the door.

“Kevin—” I managed to whisper, but he didn’t stop.

The door slammed shut behind him, loud and final, making the walls tremble.

I stood there in the echo, my chest heaving, the silence pressing in until it felt unbearable. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

The tears came hard this time—ugly and unrestrained. I didn’t even try to stop them. Because how could I? How do you stop loving someone who’s already become part of your chaos?

I stayed there for what felt like hours, the room heavy with the smell of smoke and heartbreak. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of laughter from the lingering guests drifted through the walls—a cruel reminder that the world was still turning, still bright and oblivious, while I was falling apart in the dark.

I told myself that I had to let him go. That this had to end.

But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.

Because no matter how forbidden this was, or how much it hurt, Kevin had already become the one thing I couldn’t undo.

For a long time after Kevin left, I just sat there on the floor, staring at the door like it might open again. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for—maybe an apology, maybe another argument, or maybe just for him to come back and say that none of this was real. That the feelings, the chaos, the ache in my chest—it was all just a fever dream that would fade by morning.

But it wasn’t.

The silence pressed in, and the only thing I could hear was the dull pounding of my heart. My fingers trembled against my knees, and my breath came in uneven pulls, heavy and shallow all at once. It was pathetic, really, how empty the room suddenly felt without him in it. Even the faint smell of his cigarette smoke was starting to fade, replaced by the soft floral scent of the candles I’d left burning earlier.

As silly as it sounded, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was really over between us.

Was that it? Was that how our story ended—with anger and slammed doors and words we couldn’t take back? The thought made my chest tighten until I could barely breathe. I had pushed him away, said things I didn’t mean, and for what? To prove I still had some control over a situation that had already spiraled beyond me?

I dragged myself up from the floor and sat on the edge of my bed, pressing my palms into the mattress as if it could hold me steady. My reflection in the mirror across the room looked wrecked—eyes red and swollen, makeup streaked down my cheeks, hair tangled from running my hands through it too many times. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.

That wasn’t the same girl Kevin had met in that dimly lit club months ago—the one who laughed too loudly, who wasn’t afraid of what anyone thought. This version of me looked hollow. Drained. Someone who’d fallen in love with the wrong person and didn’t know how to stop.

A faint sound interrupted my thoughts—the soft, deliberate creak of a footstep outside my door. I froze, wiping quickly at my face as if that could erase the mess of emotion that clung to me.

Then I heard it—my father’s voice.

“Abby?”

He sounded cautious, worried in that way that always made guilt swell in my chest. I closed my eyes, biting the inside of my lip as tears threatened again.

He must have heard everything. Of course he had. The fight on the balcony, my outburst, the way my voice cracked when I said I was tired of all of it. My throat tightened at the memory.

“Abby, open the door,” he said again, his voice closer this time. I heard the doorknob rattle gently, followed by a sigh. “Please. We need to talk.”

My heart twisted painfully. I wanted to answer, to tell him that I was fine—that it was just exhaustion or stress or anything that would make him stop worrying. But my lips refused to move. Every word I wanted to say got trapped somewhere in my chest, crushed under the weight of shame.

I turned my head toward the door, staring at it through watery eyes. The sound of his voice felt distant, muffled by the thickness of my own grief.

“Abby,” he called again, softer this time, like he was afraid I might break if he spoke too loudly.

“Go away,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. It wasn’t even meant for him—it was more for myself, a fragile attempt to build distance from everything that hurt.

The words hung in the air, swallowed quickly by silence.

I listened for a response, but all I heard was the faint sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway. The realization that he’d actually listened—that he was giving me space—should have made me feel relieved. But instead, it just made the loneliness worse.

I sank back into bed, curling up beneath the blanket even though it did little to warm me. My chest ached with a heaviness I couldn’t name.

Maybe tomorrow, I told myself. Maybe tomorrow, I’d talk to him. Maybe tomorrow, I’d find the courage to face Kevin again, to fix the mess I’d made.

But right now… I didn’t have the strength.

Right now, all I could do was lie there in the dim light, staring at the ceiling, and wonder if this was what heartbreak was supposed to feel like—this strange mixture of longing, guilt, and quiet devastation that made the night feel endless.

And somewhere deep down, a small voice whispered the truth I didn’t want to hear:

that no matter how hard I tried to bury what I felt, no matter how forbidden or wrong it was… Kevin had already become a part of me.