Chapter 88
Olivia's POV
The weight of everything I’d been holding inside for so long finally broke as I stood in Zoya’s apartment, the familiar scent of her filling the air, grounding me and tearing me apart all at once.
She stood across from me, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes, those dark, searching eyes watched me with a mix of exhaustion and something else. Something that looked a lot like surrender.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I whispered, my voice raw, hoarse from crying. “I just..”
“Of course you don’t,” Zoya cut in, her tone sharper than I expected. “You never do.”
I flinched, her words slicing through me like a blade. “That’s not fair.”
Zoya let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Isn’t it? You come to me when things fall apart, Olivia. When Elijah leaves, when the rumors get too loud, when you can’t handle the truth. And I let you.”
Her voice cracked on the last words, and something inside me shattered.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I choked out.
Zoya’s eyes flashed. “But you did.”
I swallowed hard, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I didn’t choose this, Zoya. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to fall in love with you.”
Her breath hitched, and for the first time, her mask cracked. “Then what do you want from me, Olivia?” she whispered, stepping closer, anger and longing swirling together in her voice. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the person you run to when it’s convenient for you.”
Tears burned in my eyes, and I took a shaky step toward her. “I don’t want to run anymore.” My voice trembled, but I held her gaze, forcing myself to stay grounded in the moment. “I love you, Zoya. I’ve been so scared of it, of what it means, but I—”
She shook her head, stepping back, her hands trembling. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”
“I do,” I whispered desperately, stepping closer until I was inches away. “I love you, and I hate myself for how long it took me to admit it.”
Zoya stared at me, her expression torn between anger and heartbreak. “Then why didn’t you fight for me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against hers. “Because I was scared of losing everything. My marriage, my career... but none of it means anything if I don’t have you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, her fingers laced with mine, and I felt the dam inside me break completely.
“I love you too,” she finally admitted, her voice filled with so much pain it nearly undid me. “But love isn’t enough, Olivia. Not if you keep running.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No more running.”
Zoya let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine, and for the first time, I saw something other than pain in them. Hope.
She pulled me into her arms, and I collapsed against her, my sobs muffled against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, clinging to her. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
Her hands tightened around me, holding me like she was afraid to let go. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “Together."
I pulled away slightly, brushing my hand over her face, memorizing every line, every curve. “Together,” I echoed.
Zoya's POV
The weight of Olivia’s confession still lingered between us, thick and heavy with years of longing and unspoken truths. She stood in front of me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance—for something I wasn’t sure I could give. But when she whispered those words again, soft and full of a vulnerability that made my heart ache, I knew I couldn’t pull away anymore.
“I love you, Zoya.”
It wasn’t just words this time. It was everything—the way she trembled as she said it, the way her lips parted like she was afraid to breathe too loudly, as if she’d shatter the fragile moment between us.
I reached for her, my fingertips ghosting over her jaw before cupping her face fully. “Say it again,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.
Her breath hitched. “I love you.”
A soft sigh escaped me as I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”
She let out a shaky laugh, her hands coming up to grasp mine. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her, tracing the outline of her face with my eyes, memorizing every inch of her—Olivia Lopez, the woman who had held my heart in the palm of her hand for far too long. “We have tonight,” I whispered, “and I don’t want to waste it.”
Her lips trembled, and then she kissed me, soft at first, tentative, like she was still afraid this might slip through her fingers if she wasn’t careful. But when I deepened the kiss, sliding my hands into her hair, I felt her melt into me, surrendering to everything we’d held back for so long.