I stormed out of the room, my pulse racing, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I needed to get away, needed space to think, to breathe. But I didn't get far before I heard her footsteps behind me. Fast, urgent. She was coming after me.
"Aeliana, wait!" Ciara called, her voice echoing in the hallway. I ignored her, my steps quickening. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to hear whatever excuse she had. Not now. Not after everything.
But Ciara wasn't giving up. I could hear her getting closer, feel her presence like a weight pressing down on me. "Aeliana, please!" she pleaded, almost breathless from chasing me. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to turn around, refusing to acknowledge the crack in my armor, the part of me that still wanted to hear her out.
"Aeliana," Ciara said again, closer this time, and I felt her hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me to a stop. Her touch was firm but gentle, and a shiver ran through me despite myself. I turned around slowly, pulling my arm back from her grasp, and met her eyes with all the coldness I could muster.
"What?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. I was angry, but more than that, I was hurt. And I didn't want her to see that. "What could you possibly have to say that I'd want to hear?"
Ciara looked taken aback for a moment, her brow furrowing as if she was trying to find the right words. Her mouth opened, then closed, and I saw something flicker across her face was it panic? Desperation? I couldn't tell, and I didn't care.
"I… I just want to explain," she finally said, her voice quieter, softer. There was a vulnerability in her tone that made my heart ache, but I steeled myself against it.
"Explain?" I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Explain what, Ciara? That you were kissing Cassandra? That you—" My voice caught, and I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. "That you played me for a fool?"
She flinched at my words, her face tightening with hurt. "It wasn't like that," she insisted, taking a step closer, her eyes pleading. "Please, Aeliana, just listen to me. Let me explain."
I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself tightly. "Why should I?" I challenged, my voice icy. "You think I haven't heard enough? Seen enough?"
Ciara's frustration was evident now, her brows drawing together, a faint line appearing between them.
She seemed to be fighting with herself, struggling to find the right approach. "I didn't mean for you to see that," she said, her tone still soft but with a thread of tension running through it. "I didn't want you to get hurt."
I laughed again, a harsh, brittle sound. "Oh, so now you care about my feelings?" I shot back. "You didn't seem to care when you were all over her."
She shook her head, her expression pained. "It wasn't like that, Aeliana," she repeated, her voice firmer now. "I didn't… I don't feel anything for Cassandra. She kissed me, and I pushed her away. You didn't see—"
"I saw enough," I cut her off, my voice rising. "I saw you, and I saw her, and that's all I needed to see."
Ciara's eyes darkened, a flash of anger breaking through her calm facade. "You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped, but then she quickly drew in a deep breath, her features smoothing again as if she was forcibly pulling herself back under control. "Please, Aeliana, I'm trying to be honest here. I'm trying to make this right."
"Make it right?" I echoed, my tone mocking. "How can you possibly make this right?"
She took another step closer, her hand reaching out like she wanted to touch me but thought better of it. Her fingers hovered in the air between us, trembling slightly. "I care about you," she said, her voice rough with emotion. "More than I've ever cared about anyone, Aeliana. You have to know that."
I felt a flicker of something doubt? Hope? I wasn't sure. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that she really did care, that I hadn't been just another conquest, another game to her.
But I couldn't forget the way she'd looked with Cassandra, the way her lips had moved against hers.
"Then why?" I whispered, my voice raw, barely more than a breath. "Why were you with her?"
Ciara ran a hand through her hair, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. "I wasn't with her, Aeliana," she said, her tone exasperated now. "I was fighting that rogue demon, and then Cassandra just… she just kissed me. I didn't kiss her back, I swear. I pushed her away the moment I realized what she was doing."
I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Was she telling the truth? Could I believe her? Part of me wanted to, desperately. But another part of me, the part that had been hurt too many times before, wasn't so sure.
"And what if I believe you?" I asked, my voice low, wary. "What then? How do I know you won't hurt me again?"
Ciara's face softened, and she took another tentative step closer. "I won't," she promised, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't. I… I need you, Aeliana. More than I've ever needed anyone."
I felt a lump forming in my throat, my resolve wavering. Her words were sincere, I could feel it. But there was still a flicker of doubt, a whisper of suspicion in the back of my mind.
"I need time," I said finally, my voice trembling. "I need time to think."
Ciara's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded. "Take all the time you need," she murmured. "Just… don't shut me out completely. Please."
I looked away, my heart aching. "I'll think about it," I whispered.
Ciara's hand reached for mine, hesitated, then drew back. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice full of emotion. "That's all I ask."
I turned away from her, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I wanted to believe her, but I was still so afraid of getting hurt again. As I walked away, I felt her gaze on me, a silent plea that hung in the air between us.
And I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to turn back, to let her explain more, to try and find a way through this mess. But another part of me was still too raw, too wounded to think clearly.
I kept walking, not trusting myself to look back. If I did, I knew I might crumble, might give in to the small, fragile hope that was fluttering in my chest.
And I wasn't sure if I was ready for that yet.