Chapter 197: Crumble

Coban's POV

The room felt too quiet.

Too still.

Like it was waiting for something to happen... or maybe waiting for me to finally lose what little control I had left.

I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped so tightly together that my knuckles had turned pale beneath the fading bruises.

My knee bounced relentlessly.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

A rhythm I couldn't stop.

Didn't even try to.

Because if I stopped moving...

If I stopped distracting myself...

Then my thoughts would get louder.

And they were already loud enough.

Did my father fix it?

Did he make sure she stayed?

Or was she gone?

The questions circled like vultures in my head, tearing at whatever sanity I had left.

Because the truth was...

I didn't like not knowing. Didn't like having zero control over my own fucking life.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly through my nose.

I had told him it was non-negotiable.

Told him she was mine.

Told him I wasn't letting her walk away from this.

But that didn't mean shit if she decided to leave and my father hadn't stepped in to try help me.

If she chose to walk out that door...

Then what?

Then I was back to nothing.

Back to life in the normal prison system before her.

Back to being exactly who I was before she walked into my life and fucked everything up in the best and worst ways possible.

My jaw clenched.

I could fix this. I had to fix this.

"That is..." I muttered to myself under my breath, my voice rough in the silence as I answered my own thoughts, "if she even gives me a fucking chance to fix it..."

A chance to make this right.

A chance I wasn't even sure I deserved, but wanted more than anything else.

My head dropped slightly, staring at the floor as the weight of everything pressed down on top of me.

The bathroom.

Her face.

The way she looked at me like I'd broken something between us...

Something I might've destroyed for good.

My chest tightened.

And then...

Footsteps.

My head snapped up instantly, honing in on the sound.

There was more than one person.

At least two.

Maybe three?

Coming right this way, right towards my cell.

My body reacted before my brain did, pushing me up onto my feet in one swift motion - standing alert.

My muscles tensed automatically, ready for anything.

Because it was late.

Too late for casual movement like this.

Too late for anything good to be happening amongst the guards.

Who the fuck was walking around at this time?

But of course, the footsteps stopped right outside my door...

A single beat of silence came, and then-

"Santorelli! Delivery!" The guard called, hitting the cell door once.

My brows furrowed at that.

Delivery? What fucking delivery?!

The buzz of the lock cut through the quiet as the door clicked open.

I stepped forward instinctively, as the guard revealed himself... but stood empty fucking handed?!

Delivery? Delivery where?! I almost near delivered a punch right to his face for bullshitting me, but then-

He stepped aside.

And everything stopped.

Everything.

Because behind him...

Was her.

Small.

Fragile.

Barely standing straight.

Mine.

The thought hit before the word even left my mouth.

"Bella..." I breathed out at the sight of her.

The anger, the tension, even the violence sitting under my skin - ready to strike - it all vanished.

Gone.

Just like that.

She shuffled inside slowly, her movements careful, stiff.

Like every step hurt her, and the sight started to hurt me too...

It looked like every breath cost her something, before the guard spoke again from behind her.

"Doctor said you let that girl rest up, so play nice, Santorelli." But I didn't even look at him.

Didn't acknowledge him again.

Didn't hear anything beyond the sound of her breathing.

The door slammed shut behind her, locking, and we were left alone...

Together.

Finally.

She was back here, alive, standing right in front of me.

But...

Jesus Christ...

She looked like she'd been hit by a fucking truck.

Bruised.

Pale.

Tired.

And then it hit me.

All at once.

The relief, the guilt, the rage, the self-hatred...

It crashed over me like a wave I couldn't have braced myself for.

My legs gave out before I could stop it.

And I dropped.

Hard.

Knees hitting the floor as I leaned forward, a groan ripping out of me like something inside me had just snapped.

What the fuck?!

What the fuck was happening to me?!

I never cried.

I didn't ever do this.

But right now?

Right now I couldn't stop what was happening...

"Coban...?" Her voice came soft, shocked, but careful not to press too far just yet.

But it sounded like she didn't recognise the man in front of her anymore...

I didn't fucking recognise him either...

"This is my fucking fault, Bella!" The words tore out of me, raw and unfiltered.

I dragged a hand through my hair, shaking my head as I forced myself to look up at her.

Tears blurred my vision.

Actual fucking tears.

Her lips parted slightly, shocked and confused by the sight.

She just stared at me like she didn't know what she was looking at.

And honestly?

I didn't blame her.

"I could've kept you from this!" I went on, my voice breaking under the weight of it. "I should've been there..."

My words cut off, choking up in my throat.

Because there was no fixing it. No undoing it.

"I'm sorry, Bella..." I forced out, the apology rough and real and something I'd never given to anyone like this before.

Ever.

And I meant it.

Every fucking word.

Something shifted in her then.

Like she snapped out of whatever trance she'd been stuck in.

She moved toward me fast.

Dropping down in front of me, her arms wrapping around my neck before I could even react.

I froze under her.

Her touch, soft.

Warm.

Real.

"I didn't expect this..." she whispered against me, her voice gentle despite everything. "I don't want to see you like this..."

And that was it.

That was the final crack.

I broke.

Completely.

A sob ripped out of my chest, uncontrollable, as I leaned into her without thinking.

Without stopping myself.

Without caring.

"I don't deserve you..." I said into her shoulder, my voice thick, broken, honest.

Because I didn't.

Not even fucking close.

Not after everything I'd done.

Not after how I'd treated her.

Not after leaving her alone.

Not after pushing her away like she meant nothing.

Her hand came up to the back of my head, fingers threading lightly through my hair.

Comforting me.

Me?!

"Hey..." she whispered softly. "Everything's alright..."

But I shook my head against her.

"No it's not," I muttered. "You're too good for this place..."

Too good for me.

Too good for all of this.

And yet...

She was still here.

Still holding me.

Still choosing to see the good left in me...

And I had no fucking idea what to do with that.