CHAPTER 20

The silence that follows Evan's words lingers, the weight of his emotions hanging in the air like a storm cloud. I can feel every ounce of his frustration, every unspoken question, as though he's waiting for something I can't give him just yet. I need time. That’s all I know right now. Time to breathe, to figure out where my heart lies amidst the whirlwind of feelings I’ve been trying to suppress.

But before I can speak again, the door to the room creaks open, breaking the tense atmosphere. My heart skips a beat, my body instantly alert as a new presence enters the room.

Atlas.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the doorway, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and knowing. His usual confident smirk plays at the corners of his lips, but there’s something else there, something that feels like more than just the usual charisma he exudes. He’s here for a reason, and I can feel it.

Kieran notices Atlas first, his posture shifting, his eyes narrowing just slightly, but there’s no tension between them—only the quiet understanding that both men are here, in this space, because of me.

Atlas looks at Kieran and Evan, his gaze sweeping over both of them as if assessing the situation. His eyes meet mine, and for the briefest of moments, I see a flicker of something—recognition, perhaps, or a silent question.

"Looks like the party’s getting started without me," Atlas says with a quiet laugh, breaking the tension in the room just enough to make it bearable. His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, like he's carefully watching every move and word that passes between the three of us.

Kieran doesn’t smile, but his eyes flicker with something that feels almost like a challenge. "I wasn’t expecting you, Atlas," he says, his voice cool and measured. "But since you’re here, might as well make your intentions known."

Atlas leans against the wall casually, his arms crossed. "I’m not here to cause trouble, Kieran. I’m here for Marga, like the rest of you." His words are casual, but I can hear the layers beneath them, the unspoken truths that only he knows how to navigate.

Evan shifts uncomfortably at the mention of Atlas's name, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. "You both really think this is what’s best for her?" His voice rises just enough to convey the frustration that’s been simmering beneath his calm facade. "What’s best for Marga is figuring out what she wants without distractions from you two."

Atlas’s eyes flicker to Evan, the smirk on his lips never faltering. "That’s where you’re wrong, Winston," he says with a cool tone. "What Marga needs is clarity, and you’re not offering that. Not by a long shot."

I can feel the tension rising again as the two men exchange words, but in some strange way, I feel like I’m just watching a scene unfold, disconnected from it all. Their voices blend into the background as I focus on the feeling that’s growing stronger inside me—the need to stand up for myself, to reclaim my own space in the midst of all the noise.

Atlas turns to me, his expression softening as he takes a few steps closer. "Marga," he says quietly, his voice pulling me back into the moment. "I know you’re trying to make sense of everything, but you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to figure it out on your own."

His words linger in the air, filling the space between us with something that feels almost like a promise, or maybe a plea. I don’t know which one it is, but it makes something in my chest tighten. I’ve never been one to lean on anyone else—not truly. But Atlas has always been different. He’s always known how to pull me from the edge when I’ve been close to falling.

"Atlas…" I begin, my voice shaky, unsure of where to take this conversation. "I don’t know if I can—"

Before I can finish, Evan speaks, his voice sharp. "You’re not making this any easier, Atlas. Marga needs time to think. To make a decision for herself."

Atlas holds up a hand, his demeanor calm but firm. "I’m not rushing her, Evan. I’m just offering something I think she deserves." His gaze never leaves me, and for the first time since he entered, I see something softening in his eyes—a genuine care that I can’t ignore.

I glance between Kieran, Atlas, and Evan, the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. Each of them offers something different, but none of them are willing to give me the space I need to think.

“I just need…” I pause, unsure of how to voice what I feel. "I need to be sure. Sure of what I want. I can't do this if I'm not sure."

Kieran steps forward, his tone gentle now, different from the hard edge it had before. "We’re not here to make the decision for you, Marga," he says quietly. "But we’re here. We’re here for whatever you decide."

I want to believe him, I want to take comfort in those words, but the truth is, I don’t know if I can trust myself enough to make the right choice. How do you choose between two people who mean so much to you? How do you know which path is the one you're supposed to walk?

Atlas watches me closely, then nods to Kieran and Evan. "You both should leave for now," he says with an air of finality, his voice commanding in a way that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate. "Marga needs space to think, and you two are only making things more complicated."

Evan bristles, but Kieran simply raises an eyebrow. Neither of them argues, but there’s something in the way they carry themselves that tells me they’ll be back. They won’t give up so easily.

As they both leave the room, Atlas turns to me, his gaze softer than before. He steps closer, his presence calm, steady, like a grounding force in the chaos of my emotions.

"I know this is hard," Atlas says quietly, reaching out to gently touch my arm. "But you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone in this."

I swallow hard, looking at him, at the person who’s always been there, no matter how distant or uncertain I’ve been. He has a way of making me feel like I’m not walking this alone, like my decisions aren’t just mine to carry.

But in the end, that’s what I need to do. I need to make the decision on my own. Whether it’s Evan, Kieran, or Atlas—no one can make this choice for me.

"I'm not sure if I can choose just yet," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Atlas’s hand falls away from my arm, but his eyes remain fixed on me. "Take the time you need," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "We’ll be here when you’re ready."

And with that, he steps back, giving me the space I need. The room feels emptier now, the weight of their absence making the silence feel more oppressive.

But for the first time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can figure this out. On my own.