21

Chapter 21

POV: Morticia

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The days passed like a slow, dragging current. Each one felt longer than the last.

I went for trying to occupy myself in futile activities, to create the impression of having a purpose. I painted, read books I did not want to read, and even lay down in an attempt to rearrange the clothes in my closet twice. None of it stopped the constant pull in my chest, that dull ache of missing someone I had no right to miss.

Jake.

I hated thinking about him. Hated how his name echoed in my mind like a song I couldn’t forget. The ache wasn’t just from anger anymore. No, the anger had been long since depleted and an even more exposed feeling remained.

Loneliness.

It was a miserable experience to feel about a guy who lied to me. But no matter how much I tried to bury it, it rose to the surface every time I sat alone. Each sight from my window to the garden of my house brought me back to him. Every brushstroke on my canvas reminded me of him. It was infuriating.

I did so and looked at the painting I painted there two days prior. I thought I’d erased him from it, but now I saw him again, not as a figure but as a shadow woven into the leaves and branches. No matter how hard I tried, he lingered.

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By the fourth day, I’d had enough.

I needed air. Real, fresh air. At no time is it the drafty room, nor the subliminal smell of flowery air, rent by dampness in my corridor, or my contemplation of the smell in my bedrooms, that stops me. No. I desired the comfort of a breeze on my cheek and the sun's comfort on my back.

So I went to the garden.

The gate guards, "looking" over the entrance as they usually do, gave me the same side eyes, but I pretended not to notice them. I’d grown used to their presence, and as long as they didn’t stop me, I didn’t care what they thought. The stone path crunched beneath my feet as I walked, the familiar rustle of leaves soothing me in a way that nothing else had.

It had rained the night before, so the air smelled crisp and fresh. Dew sparkled on the petals of the blossoms in the form of small jewels. The loudness of birdsong filled the trees overhead (looping down and up through the trees in search of earthworms).

For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.

I moved deeper and deeper into the garden, being guided by my palm along the hedges, and through the foliage of flowers trailing down around them. My eyes followed the gentle sway of the leaves in the breeze, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything: Jacob, the guards, my father, and… him.

But forgetting was short-lived.

Because there he was.

Jake.

He stood at the far edge of the garden, his back to me. His broad shoulders were tense, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared off at something I couldn’t see.

For a heartbeat, I froze. My breath caught, and I moved away, my heart a war drum in my eardrums. Leave, a small voice told me. Leave before he turns around. But I didn’t.

My gaze softened as I stared at him. His bearing was no longer what it used to be–the self-composure, the arrogant bearing was gone. He looked… tired. Worn out, even. He felt as if he had been facing a much bigger force than himself, to begin with.

It made my chest ache.

I don't know what pushed me to do it, but before I could turn and think, I was already in motion. My legs moved me forward, and my heart pounded with each one. I didn’t stop to second-guess myself. I just moved.

“Jake! I picked up the phone, and before I knew it, I was running.

He became backward, pupils blown apart with awe, but I did not break away. I hugged him tightly, him like a person who might get lost at that moment if I released him. His body became rigid underneath my pressure, just for one second. Then he relaxed.

“Morticia?” he asked, his voice rough with disbelief. “What—?”

I'm sorry, I just," I mumbled, my voice swallowed by the pressure of his arm. I didn’t lift my head. I'd just pressed my cheek against his, and his body, just warm against his, enveloped me. “I’m sorry, Jake. I overreacted. I should have let you explain.”

His breath hitched.

His hands approached my back nervously, as if he didn't know what to do. Slowly, they rested on my shoulders, warm and firm. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmured.

“No, I do. I pulled back just enough to look at him, my eyes locking with his. You are wrong, but I did not let you provide an excuse. I jumped to conclusions and ran away.”

A barely perceptible smile occurred at the corner of his mouth but did not quite get to his gaze. “You had every right to be angry, he said, his gaze searching mine like he was looking for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. “I should have told you the truth from the start.

I can understand why you didn't," I admitted, still clutching his shirt with my fingertips. “You thought it would change how I saw you.”

He lowered his eyes, his jaw tense. “And I was right.”

“No, you weren’t.” I shook my head firmly. “You’re still you, Jake. Alpha or not?”

His eyes snapped back to mine, something raw flashing in them. Surprise. Hope. Regret. All at once.

So. "He cut off, his eyes fixed on the floor as if he feared to say the last word.

“Still friends? I rolled up to him and gave him a small, weak smile.

He glanced up, his expression guarded but hopeful. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause.

My heart beat in my chest, steady but loud. Say yes, I told myself. Say yes, because it’s the truth.

“Of course we are,” I said, my smile widening. “I never stopped being your friend, Jake. Even when I am mad, I still. I stopped before I finished the sentence.

But he seemed to understand.

And the strain of the heretical removed its hold from his shoulders. His lips curved into a real smile, this time warm, bright, and so unmistakably Jake.

Thank you,"—he whispered, the rupture making the sound more significant than any I would have thought on its own.

I dropped his shirt, smoothing out pretend creases as I stepped away. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, I warned, wagging a finger at him. “If you lie to me again, I’ll make sure you regret it."

His eyes crinkled playfully, and a soft chuckle came from within. “Noted,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No more lies. I swear.”

“Good,” I replied, nodding firmly.

We then stood for a moment in the garden, not to move away. Except for the gentle crunching of foliage and the tweeting of birds, the world was still. It felt peaceful. Natural.

I looked at him in the corner of my vision. He was watching me, with a calm look of serenity transfixed into his face. On that particular occasion, he did not behave as the Alpha as the defender, or as the manipulator. He just looked like Jake. The man I’d laughed with. The man I’d trusted. The only, despite everything still managed to make my chest feel lighter only when he was present.

“Want to walk with me? I asked suddenly, turning toward him.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You’re inviting me for a walk?”

I raised a brow. “Don’t make it weird, Jake.”

He snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Lady Morticia.”

“Lady Morticia?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes at him.

He grinned. “What? You don’t like it?”

Not from you" I said, but my tone was not mean.

We walked side by side along the path, his pace slow and easy. The sunshine passed through the leaves, and intermittent glares of shadow fell on us. For the first time in days, I sensed a shift occurring within me.

Not the ache of loneliness.

Not the sharp sting of anger.

But peace.

Maybe it wouldn’t last forever. Maybe we’d fight again. Yet, for now, we walked abreast, the air, though, light, still charged with the unspoken tacit agreement of a better day.

I took one last look at him and recognized the subliminally disguised smile that crossed his features.

Still friends, I thought, my heart steady and sure.

Yes. For now, that was enough.