Chapter 173
Nora's POV
"I'd fight like hell to fix it." His voice came from right behind me now. "I'd probably do some stupid Alpha shit, like showing up at your door every day until you talked to me." He paused. "But if it really came down to you or me breaking completely… I'd let go. Loving someone means wanting them to be okay, even if that means without you."
My throat tightened. "That's such bullshit. You just said you'd 'drain yourself dry' for me."
"Yeah, well…" He moved to stand beside me. "Loving someone makes you a hypocrite sometimes."
A cold breeze cut through the trees, and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself.
"So why didn't you fight for her?" I said it to the trees, not looking at him. "Your ex-fiancée."
The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. When I glanced at him, his jaw was tight.
"Someone's been talking to you." It wasn't a question. His eyes narrowed. "Let me guess—Annabel?"
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
Julian ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "Because I didn't love her, Nora. I never did. That whole thing was a political arrangement my family pushed. There was nothing to fight for."
"But you still got engaged." I turned to face him fully. "You still went through with it."
"Yeah." He met my gaze, and I saw something raw there. "I did. And that's on me. I was a coward."
The admission surprised me. Julian didn't do vulnerability easily—this cost him something.
"How old was she?" The question came out before I could stop it.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through old messages until he found what he was looking for. "Twenty-four. Actually the same age as you."
My heart sank.
"Age doesn't mean anything—" he started, but I cut him off.
"What about her personality? Was she… like me?"
Julian stared at me for a long moment. Then he crouched down, forcing me to look at him. "Not even close. She was… picky. Always had something to complain about. Dinners weren't fancy enough, cars weren't fast enough. It wasn't about the things—it was about me. I wasn't enough."
"Sounds like you remember her pretty well," I muttered, looking away.
"You asked, Nora." He straightened up, and I heard the frustration creeping into his voice. "Don't punish me for answering."
"What did she look like?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
He sighed, the sound tired. "Pretty. Dark hair. About your height. Not…" He hesitated. "Not as cute as you."
Despite everything, my lips twitched. "Cute?"
"You have this thing you do when you're annoyed. Your nose scrunches up." He demonstrated, and I shoved his shoulder.
"Stop deflecting. What was her personality like?"
"I just told you—"
"No, I mean day-to-day. How did she treat people?"
Julian's expression went flat. "Like they owed her money. Restaurant staff, drivers, anyone she considered beneath her. It was exhausting."
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "Why me, Julian? Is it because I remind you of her?"
His head snapped up. "Who the hell told you that?"
"Just answer me."
He stood, and for a moment I thought he might walk away. Instead, he turned back, and his eyes were blazing. "You're nothing like her, Nora. Not in looks, not in personality, not in anything that matters. I don't love you because of some ghost from my past. I love you because you're you—stubborn, brilliant, exhausting, and completely irreplaceable."
The words hit me square in the chest. I looked down, biting my lip.
"When did you become so… pessimistic?" he asked quietly.
"Maybe I've always been this way. You just didn't notice."
He stepped closer, reaching out to gently tilt my chin up. "Hey. Look at me. I chose you. Not some polished debutante, not some political pawn. You. The woman who yells at officials, who drives a beat-up car, who smells like cheap coffee and paperwork. That's who I want."
But I'm not some princess who knows how to ride horses, I thought. I don't know which fork to use at fancy dinners. I can't—
"Stop," Julian said, and I realized I'd been spiraling. "Whatever you're thinking, stop."
I leaned into his touch without meaning to. His thumb brushed my cheek, and I closed my eyes.
"Stop thinking about all those 'what ifs,' Nora," he said quietly. "That kind of comparison will only torture you."
My chest tightened. "I'm the one who's uncomfortable here, not you." The words came out sharper than I intended, childish and defensive.
He went still. When he spoke again, his tone was flat. "You think I'm the only one with a past?"
I froze. There was something dark in his voice, something I hadn't heard before.
Julian's eyes fixed directly on me.
I looked up at him, my throat tight. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer right away. His jaw worked like he was trying to decide whether to say it. Then he stepped closer, his voice dropping low and unguarded.
"You think I don't get jealous?" His words were quiet but sharp enough to cut. "Every time I think about Kyle holding your hand, kissing you, touching you—" He stopped, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm jealous as hell, Nora. But I can't dump that on you. I have to deal with it myself."
I'd never seen him like this—stripped down, vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache.
"I don't have that kind of self-control like you do," I whispered, almost ashamed.
"I know." His voice softened. "And that's okay."
Julian stopped walking. "So what do you want from me, Nora?"
The question landed like a punch. My throat burned. "I just feel awful. That's all."
He stared at me for a long moment, something flickering in his eyes—frustration, maybe, or exhaustion.
I couldn't stand it anymore. I turned and ran toward where the trail met the paved road. An electric shuttle was stopped at a nearby station. I climbed aboard.
Julian caught up. The driver glanced between us.
"Just me," I said loudly, making sure Julian heard. "He's not coming."
As the shuttle pulled away, I caught a glimpse of him in the side mirror. He didn't chase after me. Instead, he pulled out his phone, his expression dark as he brought it to his ear.