Chapter 67

Chapter 67
Five days.

That was how long it had been since Ariana had seen Callum—or heard his voice. The silence between them stretched and twisted like a frayed wire between two power poles, humming with everything unsaid. Her apartment felt foreign again, like it belonged to a version of herself she’d outgrown, and yet it was the only place where she could breathe without remembering the weight of Callum’s gaze. The only place she didn’t feel like she was constantly falling.

Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand just after ten in the morning. She rolled over, eyes swollen and heavy from a night of tears she’d tried to suppress. When she finally focused on the screen, her chest ached with the familiarity of his name.

Callum: Just checking in. Hope you’re okay. I’ve spoken with the hospital. Charlie’s physio schedule is set up. You can visit anytime today. Two guards would be waiting to take you whenever you’re ready.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard for a long moment.

She wanted to say she missed him. That her chest physically hurt from the weight of the distance. That she’d woken up more than once reaching for him. That every time she blinked, she saw his face at that gala—smiling next to Milanna, all cuddled up. She wanted to scream at him for not protecting what they had, and for making her doubt everything.

Instead, she typed:

Ariana: Thank you. I’ll be heading over to the hospital shortly.

No emoji. No warmth.

Just truth, delivered like a dull blade.

She stared at the message after sending it. Callum didn’t reply.

She took her time getting ready, the motions slow and deliberate. Each brush of mascara and dab of concealer was another mask to hide the brokenness she felt beneath. The swelling around her eyes wasn’t gone, just softened. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail. She wore a soft beige cardigan over a plain blouse and jeans. Casual, neutral. She felt like a ghost.

The driver and guards Callum had assigned picked her up without a word. She was grateful for the silence.

By the time she arrived at the Manhattan private hospital, she was barely holding it together.

She took the elevator to Charlie’s floor. As the doors opened, Ariana took a shaky breath, forcing herself to walk like she hadn’t just cried through her morning coffee.

Charlie was sitting upright in bed, a thick binder of exercises and physiotherapy instructions in her lap. She glanced up as Ariana walked in, a wide smile breaking across her face—only to falter when she really looked at her sister.

“Ari…” Charlie’s voice was gentle, concerned. “What happened, are you okay?”

Ariana managed a small smile. “You’re looking stronger already.”

“I’m alright. Please don’t change the subject,” Charlie said, setting the binder aside. “Your eyes… You’ve been crying.”

Ariana sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the blanket. She tried to look at her sister without falling apart. “I’m okay.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Ariana said softly.

“I’m already worried.” Charlie reached for her hand. “Please, talk to me.”

Ariana hesitated.

She hadn’t said it out loud to anyone—not fully. It had been trapped in her chest, in the quiet, sleepless nights. But here, in this room where everything felt quieter and more honest, she couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“I think I’m in love with him,” she whispered.

Charlie blinked. “With Callum?”

Ariana nodded, eyes welling again. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Charlie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me everything.”

And so she did.

She started from the beginning—how she met him at the coffee shop, how their relationship escalated with intensity and secrecy. The marriage for appearances. The moments that felt too real to be fake. The way he’d looked at her when no one was watching, like she was more than just a pawn in his game. The sweetness, the protectiveness. The vulnerability.

Then, the darkness.

The evasions.

The kidnapping attempt. The secrets. The gala in L.A. The photos. And most of all—the distance since.

“I thought I could handle it,” Ariana said, her voice shaking. “I told myself it was just part of the arrangement. That I’d leave when it got too complicated. But it’s not just an arrangement anymore. Not for me.”

Charlie’s expression was unreadable. “And for him?”

“I don’t know.” Ariana wiped a tear from her cheek. “He says it is. That I matter. That I’m not just part of the deal. But then… he went with her. To that gala. And I saw the pictures, Charlie. The way she looked at him, like he was already hers. I felt like I’d been punched in the chest. They have history so I don’t even know what to believe..”

Charlie exhaled. “And you haven’t talked to him since?”

“Not really. Just a few messages. I needed space. But now…” Her voice broke. “Now I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “Ari… I may not know Callum like you do, but I’ve seen how you’ve changed since you met him. It’s not just the heartbreak. You’ve grown. You’ve fought. You’ve protected me. You’ve loved, deeply. And whether or not he deserves you, you deserve to know where he truly stands.”

Ariana looked down. “What if knowing breaks me?”

Charlie smiled faintly. “Then I’ll be here to help you rebuild.”

Tears slipped freely down Ariana’s cheeks. She hadn’t meant to let it all pour out like this. But now that she had, she felt strangely lighter—like the grief had made space for something else.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Ariana whispered. “But I know I can’t keep pretending I’m not hurt. Or that I don’t care.”

“Then don’t,” Charlie said. “Be honest—with him, and with yourself.”

Ariana nodded slowly. “Thank you. I have tried to reach him but he always gives me the same generic replies.”

They sat in silence for a while, their fingers interlaced, the low hum of hospital machines surrounding them. Outside the window, Manhattan buzzed with life, indifferent to the turmoil unfolding inside one of its most expensive hospital suites.

A nurse entered to administer Charlie’s medications, breaking the moment. Ariana stood, brushing the tears from her face, giving her sister a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll come by again later,” she promised.

“Only if you promise to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’ll try,” Ariana said.

⸻

That evening, back at her apartment, Ariana curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. She stared at her phone, reading Callum’s message again.

For a long moment, she debated responding. Saying something—anything—that would give him a hint of what she felt.

But instead, she wrote a new message.

Ariana: I visited Charlie today. She’s doing better. Thank you for the arrangements. I also wanted to say… I’m still trying to figure out how to move forward. But I meant everything I ever told you.

She hit send before she could change her mind.

Then she set the phone aside, letting the silence surround her once more.

Only this time, the silence didn’t feel like a punishment. It felt like a choice.

A space she had created for herself—to grieve, to reflect, to heal.

Somewhere in that quiet, maybe she’d find the strength to decide what came next.