Chapter 24

POV: Morticia

The garden was still, and the quiet, soothing sound of crickets muffled the night. A gentle breeze rustled through the foliage, carrying the characteristic fragrance of jasmine. The moon hung low, and its silvered light cast long shadows on the stone walk.

I pulled my shawl closer to my neck, but it offered no relief. The cold I felt wasn’t from the wind; it started from within—a kind of emptiness that had been developing for the past few days.

I don’t know why I came here. Perhaps it was a break from Darwina's ceaseless observation, but perhaps it was also a hope for a moment of quietude. But peace never stays for long.

My gaze drifted to the far end of the garden, where the oak tree stood. It wasn't exotic in any way; it was familiar, cozy indeed, and restored a more innocent essence of time. I walked toward it cautiously, allowing my fingers to brush against the petals of flowering plants as I advanced along the path.

I didn’t expect to see him there.

Jake.

He sat on the stone bench beneath the oak tree, one leg stretched out, the other bent with his arm resting casually on it. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, his face relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before. The soft light of the moon bathed his face, drawing fine lines across his jaw and softening his lips. He looked... peaceful.

For a moment, I stood there watching him. I shouldn’t have; it was oddly reminiscent of a thing from the past, as if I was intruding on something that was meant to be private. But I couldn’t help it. There was something grounding about him—something real. And right now, I needed something real.

“Oh, just stare at me all night, will you?” Jake's deep voice resonated, eyes still closed but a sly smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

I stiffened, heat rising to my cheeks. He knew I was there.

“I wasn’t staring,” I muttered, stepping closer.

“Mm, right, you weren't,” he replied, opening one eye and fixing it on me. His stare pressed down on me—a soft but impenetrable force. “What’s got you wandering around at this hour?”

I got up and then sat down in the vacant seat next to him, providing us with a little distance between us. I stared at the ground as I followed the rings that outlined my route in the rock below. “I needed some air,” I said quietly.

He lingered for a few seconds before he nodded. “Rough day?”

I snorted hollowly and turned my head skyward to gaze at the stars. “You could say that.”

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—silence of that type in which you could sense someone was there, silent and waiting for you to speak when you felt ready.

I bit my lip, my chest tightening. But when the letters formed in my throat, I could not pronounce them.

“Brianna's been here,” I finally managed to whisper.

Jake hummed, not surprised. “I heard.”

“She’s all over,” I growled, bringing my knees together into fists. “Flitting around like she owns the place. Changing things that don’t need to be changed. Smiling like she’s doing me a favor.” My voice cracked, and I hated it for how little it was. “Jacob’s no better; he just lets her and watches her like she's the only person in the room.”

Jake kept silent, but I sensed a change in his vibe—he was listening, really listening.

“I’m meant to be engaged to that man,” I said, my dry mouth twisting inside me—a round ball glued to the back of my throat. “I’m supposed to be his wife. But I’m nothing more than a placeholder for Brianna.” My nails dug into my palms. “Why am I even here, Jake?”

His jaw clenched tighter as I watched his fingers curl into a tight ball in his hand. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” I looked at him, eyes filled with unspoken tears. “It’s true, isn’t it? Jacob doesn’t love me; he loves her. He always has.” My breath came out in a shaky exhale. “And I hate that it still hurts.”

Jake's gaze softened as he drew closer, bringing his elbows into contact beneath his knees. His voice was deep, ragged, and incomprehensible. “Morticia, you’re giving them too much power.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

He looked up at me with penetrating eyes fixed on mine—his strength almost unbearable. “You’re letting them decide your worth—letting them make you feel small.” He shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself; you’re more than a pawn in their little game.”

I saw him clearly now; my throat felt constricted from too many emotions to express. How does he do that? Not many words are sufficient to make me feel seen.

I shook my head and looked away. “It’s not that easy, Jake.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.” He leaned back, tilting his head toward the sky. “But you can’t let them break you, Morticia. People like Jacob and Brianna? They’ll never be satisfied; they’ll keep taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you.”

His words hit me harder than I expected; I felt a ripping pain in my chest and put a hand to it, trying not to take a breath. I hated how right he was.

“What am I supposed to do?” I murmured even softer this time.

He turned to me with searching eyes. “You hold your ground,” he said simply. “Don’t grant them the pleasure of witnessing you crumble.”

Silence fell again as I let his words soak into my very being—a place I did not anticipate they would occupy.

“Why are you always like that?” I inquired as I looked at him.

“Like what?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Steady,” I said softly. “Like nothing can touch you.”

He chuckled—the sound low and warm. “Trust me; plenty has touched me.”

My eyes met his as they fixed on the shadows in his gaze that he kept secret from everyone else—plenty has touched him, I thought—and wondered how much he carried that he never spoke of.

Before I could get there mentally or emotionally, I reached out with my hand and made contact with his arm—my fingertips able to wrap around his armhole sleeve. He went still; his gaze snapped to mine.

For a moment we didn’t move; the night seemed to hold its breath.

I moved closer—my heart beating so powerfully that I could tell he knew it—and he didn’t move away either. His eyes darted from my mouth to mine and landed there for a second; then something changed inside me.

My lips pressed against his.

It was soft—the gentlest sensation of touch and nerves—but as soon as our hands touched each other all of the other things—Brianna, Jacob—the walls of the palace just disappeared into nothingness—it was just him.

His breath snagged; his finger lifted to touch me—his contact initially uncertain as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should—but then he did: forcing my face toward him and kissing me softly yet deliberately.

Everything stopped.

His lips pressed into mine—solid but not too strong—as though he were studying my features—his imprint on me while my fingers creased in his shirt feeling him crush tight—wanting more.

But just as quickly as it started—it ended.

Jake pulled back—his breathing uneven. “Morticia,” he said hoarsely.

My eyes snapped open as I saw remorse in his expression.

He pressed his forehead against mine—eyes squeezed shut—and murmured: “We’re too far gone.” His breath was warm against my skin as he added: “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I wanted to scream—but the words wouldn’t come.

I jerked back—my face flushed with heat—as my heartbeat still pounded—and loathed that he'd made it stop: I hate you for stopping it.

I stumbled to my feet—avoiding his gaze—as my hands trembled while backing away. “I—I’m going to bed,” I muttered—my voice cracking.

“Morticia—”

But I didn’t let him finish.

I turned and ran—heart pounding—breath shallow; tears burned in my eyes—and I cursed myself for it.

Fool. Fool. Fool.

I kept running until beyond view of my doorway—with my back against the wood—and then hit the ground coughing: placing my entire body against my arms and forearms while feeling warmth from where his hand had been on my cheek lingering still.

I should have hated him for stopping—but instead—I hated that I wanted him to keep going.