Chapter 50 up
“Hands behind your back! Now!”
The shout echoed through the police station corridor, ricocheting off white walls and glass panels as camera flashes exploded from every direction. Reporters crowded behind the barriers, shouting questions that dissolved into noise. Selena struggled violently, her wrists twisting as officers tried to restrain her. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking to her damp cheeks. Her face was pale, drained of color—yet her eyes still burned with a feral, unyielding light.
“I’m pregnant!” she screamed hysterically. “You can’t treat me like this! You hear me? I’m pregnant!”
An officer tightened his grip, his voice firm and controlled. “And precisely because of that, ma’am, we will make sure you’re safe—in a holding cell.”
Selena let out a sharp, broken laugh, teetering on the edge of a sob. She twisted her head wildly until her gaze landed on Clark.
“Clark!” she cried. “Clark, look at me! Look at me!” Her voice cracked. “I’m innocent! They’re all lying! Vincent, the police—everyone is turning you against me!”
Clark stood several meters away, just beyond the ring of chaos. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. His face was set in stone, his eyes empty—void of confusion, void of the pity that used to surface every time Selena cried or pleaded. That version of him no longer existed.
“Take her away,” Clark said coldly.
The words were simple, quiet—but they cut deeper than any shout.
Selena froze mid-struggle. “What…?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Clark?”
“You heard me,” Clark continued, his tone low, unshaking. “I’m not covering for you anymore. Not now. Not ever.”
Her eyes widened, shimmering with disbelief. “You… you chose Nyla?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
Clark didn’t answer. He simply turned away.
As officers dragged Selena down the corridor, she screamed his name again and again, her voice breaking apart as the handcuffs clicked shut around her wrists—around her fate. Camera flashes immortalized the moment: the perfect mask Selena had worn for years shattering in full view of the public.
“Breathe… slowly… that’s it, Nyla. Good.”
The nurse’s voice was soft, almost soothing. Nyla sat upright on the hospital bed, wrapped in a white blanket. The room was warm, quiet, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. Yet her hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers curling into the fabric as if anchoring herself to reality.
“I… I’m okay,” Nyla said, though the words sounded fragile, unconvincing even to herself.
The heart monitor beside her beeped steadily, a calm, mechanical rhythm. But her eyes told a different story. They were distant. Hollow. Every time the door creaked open or footsteps passed outside, her shoulders stiffened. Every sudden sound made her breath hitch painfully in her chest.
Clark stood near the window, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. He wanted to move closer. Wanted to kneel beside her, to hold her hand the way he had on the cold warehouse floor. But his feet felt rooted, as if the floor itself was warning him not to cross that distance.
“Nyla…” he called softly.
She turned her head toward him. A faint smile curved her lips—too small, too restrained to truly be called a smile. “You don’t have to stand so far away,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to disappear.”
Clark swallowed hard. “I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”
Silence filled the room, broken only by the steady beeping of the monitor.
“I don’t hate you,” Nyla said at last, her voice calm and honest. “That’s what makes this harder. Hating you would be easier.”
Clark lowered his head. Guilt pressed down on his chest like a weight. “All of this… it happened because of my blindness. Because I kept letting Selena—”
“Clark,” Nyla interrupted gently, but with unmistakable firmness. “Stop blaming yourself like that. I don’t need your guilt. I don’t need your regret.” She took a shaky breath. “What I need… is space.”
The word struck him harder than any accusation ever could.
Vincent stood quietly in the doorway. He didn’t step inside, didn’t interrupt—only made sure Nyla wasn’t facing this alone.
“The doctors said,” Nyla continued, staring down at her own trembling hands, “my physical wounds will heal. Bruises fade. Scars close. But they also said… the nightmares, the fear, the way my body freezes without warning—those take time.”
Clark took a single step forward. “I’ll wait,” he said earnestly. “However long it takes.”
Nyla shook her head slowly. “I don’t want you waiting for me like a shadow. I don’t want to heal just to fit back into something broken.” Her voice softened. “I want to find myself again.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Vincent asked later, as he and Clark stood in the quiet hospital corridor. Clark sat on a bench, elbows resting on his knees, hands clenched together as if holding himself upright.
“I don’t have the right to hold her back,” Clark replied hoarsely. “Even if every cell in my body wants to.”
Vincent studied him for a long moment. “That’s the first time you’ve made the right choice for her.”
Clark let out a bitter smile. “Feels like it came too late.”
“No,” Vincent said calmly. “Some truths only come after everything else falls apart.”
The door to Nyla’s room opened. A nurse stepped out and nodded gently, signaling that visiting hours were nearly over.
Nyla emerged slowly, wearing a thin jacket over her hospital clothes. Her face was pale, but her posture was straighter—steadier—than before.
“I’m leaving for a while,” she said directly. “Intensive therapy. Somewhere far from this city.”
Clark stood up. “Where?”
“Somewhere that doesn’t remind me of a cage,” she answered without hesitation.
Clark swallowed. “May I… still contact you?”
Nyla looked at him for a long moment. There was sadness in her eyes—but also strength, raw and newly forged.
“Maybe someday,” she said softly. “When I can stand without shaking.”
She turned to Vincent. “Thank you… for never pulling me back when I was trying to move forward.”
Vincent nodded. “The door will always be open, Nyla. But you choose where you walk.”
Nyla took a deep breath and walked away—each step carrying her farther from Clark, from the past, and from the cage that had nearly broken her soul.