Both Wrong

Both Wrong
Darian found me two days later. I was heading back from patrol. Tired. Covered in dirt. Ready to avoid him again.

He stepped into my path. Arms crossed. Expression hard.

"No," he said. "Not this time. We're talking. Now."

I tried to step around him. He moved to block me.

"Move," I said.

"No."

"Darian—"

"I said no. I'm done chasing you around the settlement. Done watching you run every time I get close. Done letting you avoid this conversation."

His voice was hard. Angry. I'd never heard him sound like that before.

"I don't want to talk," I said.

"Too bad. We're talking anyway."

"You can't force me."

"Watch me."

We stared at each other. The bond crackled between us. His frustration bled through. Sharp. Hot. Overwhelming.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you shutting me out?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes. You are. You've avoided me for days. Won't even look at me. Act like I don't exist. Why?"

I didn't answer. Didn't know how to explain. Didn't want to admit how much Celeste's words had affected me.

"Talk to me," Darian said. "Tell me what's going on in your head."

"Why? So you can explain it away? Tell me I'm being irrational?"

"No. So I can understand. So we can figure this out together."

"There's nothing to figure out."

"Bullshit."

The word was harsh. Final. He stepped closer.

"You're scared," he said. "I can feel it through the bond. You're scared and hurt and confused. But instead of talking to me about it, you're running. Why?"

"Maybe because every time I try to understand, it gets more complicated. Maybe because your ex-fiancée is living in my settlement acting like she owns you. Maybe because you can't even make her leave."

"I've explained that—"

"You've explained the debt. You haven't explained what it means. What she still has rights to. Whether that includes you."

His jaw tightened. "She doesn't have rights to me."

"Are you sure? Because she seems to think otherwise."

"She's wrong."

"Is she? Or is there truth in what she's saying? Truth you're not telling me?"

"I've told you everything."

"Have you? Because I'm starting to wonder."

Darian's hands clenched into fists. "What do you want from me, Lyra? I've explained the situation. I've told you I love you. I've done everything I can to show you that you're the one I want. What more do you need?"

"I need you to send her away."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because of the debt. Because of what her family did for me. Because I can't just throw her out without consequences."

"What consequences?"

"I already told you! Political ones. Financial ones. The kind that could destroy what little reputation I've rebuilt. The kind that could hurt the trade alliances. The kind that affect more than just me."

"So you're choosing politics over us."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I'm trying to handle a complicated situation without making it worse. I'm trying to find a way to honor the debt without sacrificing what we have."

"And how's that working for you?"

He flinched. "Not well. Clearly."

I crossed my arms. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you let her stay. Before you decided being polite was more important than making her understand you're not available."

"I have made that clear. Multiple times. She's the one refusing to accept it."

"Then make her accept it."

"How? By being cruel? By throwing her out when her family saved me from prison? From execution? From losing everything?"

"Yes. If that's what it takes."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not that person. Because I owe them. Because—"

"Because you still care about her."

Silence. Heavy. Damning.

"That's not what I said," Darian replied quietly.

"But it's what you meant."

"No. It's not. I don't care about Celeste. Not like that. But I care about honor. About paying debts. About not being the kind of man who forgets kindness when it becomes inconvenient."

"So where does that leave me? Where does that leave us?"

"Where do you think it leaves us? You're my mate. My choice. Nothing changes that."

"Except the debt. Except the ex-fiancée living here. Except the fact that you can't even be firm with her because you owe her family."

"I am being firm with her."

"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you're being polite. Accommodating. Letting her stay when you should be sending her away."

"It's not that simple—"

"Stop saying that!"

My voice rose. Louder than I intended. Sharper.

Darian stepped back. His expression shifted. Hurt mixed with anger.

"You don't trust me," he said. The words came out flat. Factual.

"That's not true."

"Yes. It is. If you trusted me, you'd believe me when I say she means nothing. You'd believe me when I say I'm handling it. You'd believe me when I say you're the only one I want."

"It's not about trust—"

"Yes it is. That's exactly what it's about. You don't trust that I can handle this. Don't trust that I'm telling you the truth. Don't trust that I'm yours."

"You were engaged to her. You slept with her. You owe her family debts you can't repay. How am I supposed to trust that she doesn't still have a claim on you?"

"Because I'm telling you she doesn't. Because I ended it months ago. Because I chose you. Why isn't that enough?"

"Because words are easy. Actions matter. And your actions say you still prioritize her comfort over mine."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You let her stay. You let her walk around here acting like she belongs. You let her touch you and talk to you and act like you're still hers. And you expect me to just accept it?"

"I expect you to trust me enough to handle it my way."

"Your way isn't working."

"Neither is yours."

We glared at each other. Both breathing hard. Both hurt. Both angry.

The bond pulsed between us. Frantic. Confused. Didn't understand why we were fighting. Why we were causing each other pain.

"You know what hurts most?" Darian said quietly. "It's not that you're angry. It's not that you're scared. It's that you don't believe in us enough to fight for this. You'd rather run than trust me. You'd rather avoid me than work through it. You'd rather listen to her poison than believe what I'm telling you."

"That's not true—"

"Yes it is. And it makes me wonder if this bond means as much to you as it does to me. If I mean as much to you as you mean to me."

The words hit hard. Cut deep.

"Don't," I said. My voice shook. "Don't question what this means to me."

"Then show me. Stop running. Stop avoiding. Stop letting her win."

"She's already won. Don't you see that? She's here. She's driving a wedge between us. And you're letting her."

"I'm not letting her do anything. You're the one creating distance. You're the one refusing to talk. You're the one giving up."

"I'm not giving up."

"Aren't you?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't. Because maybe he was right. Maybe I was giving up. Maybe I was so scared of getting hurt that I was destroying us before Celeste could.

Darian shook his head. "I can't do this. I can't fight for us alone. I need you to fight too. But you're not. You're just running. Like you always do."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair. But it's true."

He turned and walked away. Didn't look back. Didn't give me a chance to respond.

I stood there. Alone. The words echoing in my head.

He was right. I was running. Avoiding. Creating distance because it felt safer than risking more hurt.

But knowing that didn't make it easier to stop. Didn't make the fear go away. Didn't make Celeste's words disappear.

I watched him walk away. Watched the space between us grow. Watched everything we'd built together crumble a little more.

And I didn't know how to fix it.

Didn't know if it could be fixed.

Maybe we were both right. Maybe we were both wrong.

Maybe it didn't matter anymore.