Chapter 14 Chapter 14 Tell Rebecca His Plans.
Gabriel’s POV
The question kept gnawing at me: What was really happening?
I couldn’t understand Rebecca anymore, and that unsettled me deeply. Just last night, our conversation had ended on what I thought was a hopeful note. I’d clung to it, believing we were finally making progress. But now, seeing her again, her expression so unreadable, I could feel doubt creeping in, eroding that brief, fragile hope.
When she arrived at the restaurant, I felt an involuntary jolt in my chest. There she was, looking ethereal, almost angelic. In that moment, I was acutely aware of every detail—her deep red lips, her dark hair framing her face just so, her skin almost glowing in the dim light. She was elegance and strength wrapped in beauty, a force that felt untouchable and yet was standing right before me.
I rose to my feet, nervous but eager, and reached out to hug her, wanting her to feel how much her presence meant to me. But as my arms wrapped around her, she barely reciprocated, stiffening ever so slightly, maintaining an unmistakable distance. It was as if she didn’t want our bodies to fully touch, as though I repelled her somehow.
It stung. I tried to brush it off, convincing myself that maybe she was just nervous too. After all, she had said she was willing to forgive me.
We sat down, and I watched her closely as we spoke, hoping to catch some warmth in her eyes, a signal that I could break through her armor. But she kept her gaze averted, her manner controlled, detached. She offered faint smirks here and there, yet there was a coolness in them that hinted more at amusement than affection. She looked at me as though she knew exactly what kind of man I was, and that, perhaps, I was no longer worth her time.
Then, without warning, she asked me about my wife.
My heart stalled. Why would she bring that up now?
I had gone to such lengths to avoid this topic with her, burying my own guilt and hoping it would somehow stay hidden. But here she was, pulling it out in the open as if it were nothing.
Panic fluttered in my chest. Had she known all along? Had she come here just to confront me about it?
My hands began to tremble, a subtle betrayal of the storm brewing inside me. I didn’t want this truth to spill out, not like this, not when I was so close to trying to win her back. If I lied, I’d risk losing her all over again. But if I told her the truth, it might be the end of any hope I had with her. My mind raced, and the silence between us grew heavy, stretching out into a tense, uncomfortable moment.
Finally, I managed to speak. “We’re… not really together anymore.” The words felt hollow, almost foreign in my mouth, but I forced them out, hoping it was enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips as she took a long sip of her drink. She held my gaze, and then spoke words that sent a shiver down my spine. There was a bitterness in her tone, a knowing edge that pierced right through me. She didn’t need to say much—her expression and tone conveyed everything. She wanted me to feel every ounce of pain I had inflicted on her.
Desperately, I tried to respond, to explain myself, to tell her why I had married so soon after I ended things. But she held up her glass, cutting me off mid-sentence.
“To lost loves and broken promises,” she toasted, her eyes still fixed on mine, her voice unwavering. Our glasses touched, but my hand was unsteady.
I looked into her eyes, searching for something—any sign of warmth, any hint of the woman who had once looked at me with love. But her gaze was steely, unreadable, as if she were daring me to face the consequences of my actions without flinching.
In that moment, it became painfully clear. Rebecca wasn’t here to reconcile. She didn’t care about my explanations or my regrets. She had come with a purpose—to remind me of what I had lost, perhaps even to make me feel unworthy of her forgiveness. She had put up walls around her heart, and each cold, measured word she spoke felt like another brick in those walls, shutting me out.
Before I could say anything more, she was already on her feet, her gaze averted, distant. She promised me a “gift” for our next meeting—a parting phrase that held more threat than comfort. And then she turned, walking away, leaving me at the table, alone.
I watched her go, a heaviness settling in my chest, an ache that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I thought I had a chance to win her back, but the way she had shut me down, the detached confidence she wore so effortlessly—it was a sign. And the moment she left the restaurant, I knew it: I had much farther to go to earn her trust back, and she wasn’t making it easy.
A part of me screamed that I should let her go, that it was pointless to keep trying. I knew what others would say: “Move on, Gabriel. There are other women out there.” But I’d been down that road before, and it had led me to nothing but emptiness—a life filled with shallow relationship, parties, and endless regrets. I’d thought I could replace Rebecca, but Emmanuella had shown me that there was nothing outside.
Determined, I picked up my phone and sent Rebecca a text: “I’m sorry to text you so soon, but I just want to confirm where we’ll meet next and when.”
I stared at the screen, waiting, hoping for a reply, a sign that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t completely shut me out. Seconds turned into minutes, then hours, and by 10 p.m., I was still waiting. Nothing. Her silence felt colder than anything she’d said. It echoed in my mind, telling me that maybe she was done with me, that maybe this was her way of finally shutting the door.
I exhaled, defeated, just as a shadow crossed the table. I looked up, startled, and saw Emmanuella standing there, her expression hard, her eyes piercing. She stood rigid, her face unreadable, but there was no mistaking the anger in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, irritation coloring my voice. “How did you find me?”
Emmanuella didn’t respond right away. She just stared at me, her gaze unwavering, almost as if she were measuring my worth. It was then that I knew—whatever happened next, nothing would be simple.