Chapter 93 Bruised edges
The hand on Dante’s shoulder had felt familiar, but the moment he turned and saw her face, that familiar face something in him shifted.
“Sienna…?” he whispered.
Her eyes met his, but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Her expression was calm, distant, almost cold. Her hands were clasped behind her back like she was holding herself together.
“Use the other end of the bleachers,” she said quietly.
Dante blinked. The words didn’t make sense at first.
“What?”
She pointed toward the far section of the stadium seats. “I’m supposed to clean this area. Please don’t sit here.”
Her tone was polite, professional. Like he was a stranger.
Dante’s gaze dropped and finally, he saw the uniform.
A stadium maintenance shirt. The logo on her chest. The cleaning tools beside her. A bucket. A towel hanging from her pocket.
His stomach twisted.
“Sienna.” His voice dropped, rough. “Why are you wearing that?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Because I have to survive. My license has been revoked. I need money to live. This is my new job and maybe a temporary one. That’s all.”
The words were simple, but each one cut him open.
Sienna took a small breath, switching back into a polite tone. “Please, use the other end. They have a game later, and I need to finish this section before the staff arrive.”
Dante stood up slowly. His chest felt tight. “Sienna, wait. Don’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m working,” she said softly. “Please don’t make this difficult.”
Her voice didn’t shake but her fingers did.
Dante stared at her, trying to read the face he once knew better than his own. She didn’t give him anything. No emotion. No softness. Only distance.
He finally nodded, even though it hurt something deep inside him.
“Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll go.”
He walked down the steps, but something pulled him back. Her. He turned, halfway down the bleachers, and looked up.
Sienna was wiping the seats with her head down, moving quickly, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. Trying to pretend he wasn’t watching her.
His chest pricked painfully. He wanted to say something. Anything.
But before he could take another step, his foot slipped on the metal edge.
He missed his footing. And fell.
His body hit the steps hard, the sound echoing through the empty stadium.
“Sienna!” he tried to steady himself, but the pain shot through his knee and hip.
Sienna dropped everything and ran.
“Dante!” She slid beside him, breathless. “Don’t move. Are you hurt? Show me where it hurts.”
Her hands were already on him, checking his leg, his shoulder, and pressing gently for fractures. Her voice was quick, controlled, like the doctor she had been only a few days ago.
He almost forgot how good she was. How steady and how careful she was.
“Sienna, I’m okay,” he whispered, but she ignored him, still checking.
“You could’ve dislocated something,” she muttered. “Why didn’t you watch your step? You’re still healing, Dante. You know better.”
He swallowed hard. The concern in her voice. God, he’d missed it.
“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, softer this time.
She didn’t look at him. Her fingers brushed his ankle, checking for swelling. “Does it hurt here?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“No.”
She finally met his eyes. Their faces were close and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Something old and familiar rose between them. Something neither of them could hide anymore.
Sienna was the first to look away.
“Try standing,” she murmured.
She slipped her arm around his back and helped him up slowly. Dante gritted his teeth as pressure hit his hip, and she tightened her grip to steady him.
“Easy… easy,” she whispered.
He breathed her in and the faint scent of soap, the same one she always used. The same one that used to fill his pillows. His shirts. His life.
When he was fully upright, he let out a slow breath. “I’m okay.”
She stepped back, hands falling to her sides. “Good.”
Her voice cracked on that one word.
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Dante looked at her uniform again. “You shouldn’t be doing this job.”
“And you should be more careful with your steps, you're not a two-year old.” she snapped before she could stop herself.
He froze.
Her eyes widened slightly, she hadn’t meant to say it. She pressed her lips together and took a step back.
“I need to work,” she whispered. “So please, leave”
Dante opened his mouth to speak.
And suddenly his phone rang, loud and sharp in the empty stadium.
He stared at the screen.
Isabelle.
Of course.
He hesitated. Sienna looked at the phone, then looked away as if the sight hurt her.
Dante let the phone ring once more before he picked up.
“Where are you?” Isabelle’s voice came loud through the speaker, sugary but demanding.
“I’m at the stadium,” Dante said, eyes still locked on Sienna.
“What are you doing there?” Isabelle asked.
Dante inhaled slowly.
He could lie. He could tell the truth. He didn’t know which one hurt Sienna more.
“I’m checking the new racing cars from Varon Motors,” he said.
It wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t a full lie either.
Just a cool answer.
Sienna’s jaw tightened.
“Oh,” Isabelle said. “Good. Stay there. I’ll meet you soon.”
Dante’s muscles stiffened. “No. Don’t come here. I’m leaving soon.”
“Why?” Isabelle asked, irritation creeping in.
“Because I said so,” he replied, his tone suddenly cold.
Isabelle hissed something under her breath but quickly switched to her sweet tone. “Fine. Come home soon, okay?”
Dante ended the call without responding.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, then looked at Sienna.
She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t angry.
She looked tired.
Her shoulders drooped. Her eyes dimmed. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, even though no tears had fallen.
“Thank you for helping me,” Dante said quietly.
She nodded once. “It’s my job.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You helped me because..”
“Stop,” she whispered. “Just stop, Dante. Please.”
Her voice trembled.
He stepped toward her. “Sienna..”
“Don’t make this harder for me,” she said, backing up until she hit the metal rail behind her. “I already lost everything. I can’t… I can’t lose myself too.”
He froze.
Sienna took a deep breath. “Please go.”
Dante swallowed, his chest aching. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“You already left,” she whispered. “ A long time ago.”
Those words hit him harder than the fall.
She picked up her cleaning cloth again, even though her hands were shaking.
He watched her for a long moment.
Then, very slowly, he stepped back.
Sienna didn’t look up.
He took another step.
And another.
He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he reached the end of the bleachers, far from her, far enough that she wouldn’t have to see his face, or the guilt twisting in his chest.
But he still couldn’t stop watching her.
Her small figure moved quietly between the seats. Her hair tied up in a messy knot.
Her shoulders are stiff from holding back emotions. Her hands trembled when she thought no one was looking.
She deserves more than this. She deserves better than me. Better than what he has done.
He turned away with a heavy heart.