Chapter 238 Chapter 238.

Chapter 238 Chapter 238.
Luca. 

It had been one week.

Seven long, exhausting days of pretending that I did not feel anything, of forcing distance where all I wanted was to close it, of acting like I was still angry when the truth was far more inconvenient than that. I had started this to teach her a lesson, to make her understand the weight of what she did, to make sure she would never even think of walking away from me again.

But somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling like punishment for her and started feeling like slow torture for me.

I lay on the couch, one arm thrown over my head, my eyes fixed on the bathroom door as the sound of running water filled the room. It was night, and she was inside, taking her usual shower, moving through her routine like she had not completely turned my world upside down a week ago.

And all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get up, walk into that bathroom, and pull her into me.

I missed her.

Not in a subtle way. Not in a manageable way.
I missed her in a way that sat heavy in my chest, in a way that made every second of this distance feel like a mistake I was too stubborn to admit.

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face as my jaw tightened. I was not sure how much longer I could keep this up. She had been trying. Fuck, she had been trying so hard that it almost made me feel worse.

She acted strong during the day, smiling, talking, doing everything she could to close the gap between us without pushing too hard. But at night, when she thought I was asleep, I would feel it.

Her fingers brushing against my face.

Her quiet sobs that she tried so hard to swallow.

The way her breathing would shake as she whispered apologies I was never meant to hear.

It was breaking me.

And the worst part was that she had changed in a way I did not like. She did not argue anymore. She did not get annoyed. She did not push back. She had softened herself, toned herself down, like she was afraid of losing me if she acted the way she used to.

I hated that.

I loved her fire. I loved the way she challenged me, the way she stood her ground like she owned me.

Because she did.

She always had.

She had been doing everything right, using every chance to show me how much she loved me, and it was working whether I wanted to admit it or not.

Somewhere along the week, I had slipped back into how I felt before all of this, before the engagement mess, before the misunderstanding that spiraled into something bigger than it should have been.

She had not fallen in love with Archer. That had been nothing but a wrong signal, a misunderstanding twisted by timing and fear. She had tried to run to the vacation house not because she wanted to leave me, but because she was ashamed, because she thought she had broken something beyond repair, because she was scared I would not come back for her.

I let out a quiet breath.

Sometimes, I really did not understand how her mind worked.

I had not touched her all week. Not once. Not even by accident.

But that had not stopped her.

She still kissed my cheek whenever she could, soft and careful, like she was testing boundaries she was afraid to cross. She still tried to cuddle, only to stop herself halfway and settle for lying close instead of actually touching me.

That irritated me more than I wanted to admit.

And then there was the way she avoided dressing in front of me.

I narrowed my eyes slightly at the thought.

Was she trying to win me back or drive me insane?

The bathroom door clicked open, pulling me out of my thoughts.

My gaze snapped to it immediately.

She stepped out wrapped in a towel, one around her body and another around her hair, her skin still damp, her presence filling the room in a way that made everything else fade.

I did not even try to look away.

I watched her.

Shamelessly.

She walked toward the closet, completely unaware of how much control she had over me at that moment, her fingers reaching for the door, and something in me snapped.

“How about you stop closing the door?”

My voice came out rougher than I intended.
She paused, her lips parting slightly before she let out a small sigh.

“Luca,” she said softly, “I do not want you to forgive me because of my body or anything like that.”

I raised a brow, studying her, but I said nothing.

Of course she would think like that.

Of course she would twist it into something deeper, something meaningful, something intentional.

She let the towel drop.

And for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

My throat tightened as my eyes moved over her, taking in every detail like I had been starved of it.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, barely audible even to myself.

She moved casually, like she had no idea what she was doing to me, like she was not standing there completely wrecking my self control as she rubbed lotion over her skin, the scent filling the room, wrapping around me, pulling me in.

There was something about her.

Something I could never fully explain.

She was soft and captivating and dangerously addictive all at once.