ALTHEA
The question stayed in the air between us.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
“Was Elias really worth the wait?”
My chest tightened, breath catching slightly as I held Adrian’s gaze.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Not because I didn’t have an answer—but because I wasn’t sure I was ready to say it out loud.
Because once I did… it would be real.
“I…” I started, then stopped.
My fingers curled slightly at my sides, grounding myself.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the words past the hesitation.
“I thought he was.”
Adrian didn’t move.
Didn’t interrupt.
But I saw it—the slight shift in his expression.
Not surprise.
Not disappointment.
Just… acceptance.
“I believed in him,” I continued, my voice quieter now but steady.
“In us. In what we could’ve been if things were different.”
“If he was different,” Adrian corrected gently.
I let out a small breath.
“Maybe.”
Silence stretched for a second before I added, more honestly this time, “No… not maybe. If he was different.”
That truth settled heavily in my chest.
“Back then, I would’ve said yes without thinking,” I admitted.
“He was worth everything to me. The waiting, the pain, the confusion—I convinced myself it all meant something.”
Adrian’s gaze didn’t leave mine.
“And now?”
That— that was the harder part.
I swallowed, looking away briefly before meeting his eyes again.
“Now…” I hesitated, then forced myself to finish, “now I don’t know if I was waiting for him… or just holding onto who he used to be.”
The words felt sharper once they were spoken.
Real.
Final in a way I hadn’t expected.
Adrian nodded slowly, like he understood more than I had actually said.
“That’s not the same thing,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
Another pause.
Quieter this time.
Softer.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s gone,” I added before I could stop myself.
His eyes flickered slightly at that.
“What isn’t?”
I held his gaze.
“What I feel for him.”
There it was.
No hiding.
No softening.
Just truth.
“It’s not the same,” I continued, my voice steady but lower now.
“It’s not blind anymore. It’s not… consuming like it used to be.”
“But it’s still there.”
“Yes.”
The word came out without hesitation.
Adrian exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a brief moment before returning to mine.
“And you think that’s enough?” he asked.
“For what?”
“For him to deserve another chance.”
My chest tightened again.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I shook my head slightly.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” he said.
Silence settled again, but this time it felt different.
More fragile.
Like we were standing at the edge of something neither of us could fully control.
“I’m not the same person I was back then,” I said quietly.
“I don’t want the same things. I don’t accept the same things.”
Adrian nodded.
“Then why does he still have this much power over you?”
That question— it hit deeper than the first.
I opened my mouth to respond—
—and froze.
Because I wasn’t alone anymore.
I felt it before I heard it.
That shift in the air.
That presence.
My breath stilled.
Adrian noticed it too.
His gaze flicked past me, something in his expression sharpening just slightly.
I didn’t turn immediately.
I didn’t want to.
But I already knew.
Elias.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But there was something underneath it—something tight, something dangerous.
I turned slowly.
He stood a few steps away, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack under the pressure.
His eyes were locked on me, dark and intense—and there was no hiding the fact that he had heard enough.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
“How does this end?” he asked, his gaze flicking briefly to Adrian before returning to me.
“Do you finish telling him how I ruined your life, or do I get a turn?”
“Elias—” I started.
“No,” he cut in, stepping closer.
“You were talking. Go on.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” I said, forcing my tone to stay steady.
“Doing what?” he asked.
“Having an honest conversation? That’s new for us, isn’t it?”
“I think this isn’t the time—”
Elias’ gaze snapped to him, sharp and immediate.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The tension spiked instantly.
“Then maybe you should lower your voice,” Adrian replied evenly.
“Because you’re not the only one in this conversation.”
Something in Elias’ expression darkened.
“I don’t remember inviting you into it.”
“You didn’t,” Adrian said calmly.
“She did.”
That— that made Elias go still.
Dangerously still.
His eyes shifted back to me, something unreadable flickering in them now.
“Is that true?” he asked.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Didn’t look away.
“Yes.”
The word was quiet.
But it landed hard.
Elias let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he turned slightly away, like he was trying to get control over something that was slipping.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.
“No,” I said, my voice firmer now.
“What’s unbelievable is you standing here acting like you have any right to question this.”
His head snapped back toward me.
“Any right?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“You’re standing here,” he said slowly, his voice dropping, “talking about me like I’m some past mistake—”
“I didn’t—”
“—like I didn’t matter,” he continued, cutting over me, “like everything we had was just something you can analyze and move on from.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said,” he shot back.
Adrian stepped slightly forward.
“You heard part of a conversation—”
“I heard enough,” Elias snapped.
“Then maybe you should listen properly,” Adrian replied, still calm but firmer now.
Elias let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Oh, I’m listening. Loud and clear.”
His gaze shifted between us.
Sharp.
Accusing.
“And I’m starting to see the full picture now.”
My chest tightened.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, his voice dropping lower, more controlled now, “I’m not the only one who moved on faster than expected.”
“That’s not fair,” I said immediately.
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” Adrian said before I could respond.
“It’s not.”
Elias’ eyes snapped to him again.
“You really like talking, don’t you?”
“I like being clear,” Adrian replied.
“Something you seem to struggle with.”
That did it.
Something in Elias snapped—not outwardly, not explosively—but enough to shift the entire energy around him.
He stepped closer.
Not to Adrian.
To me.
And when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
But heavier.
“Answer the question.”
I frowned slightly.
“What question?”
His eyes held mine.
Unmoving.
“Was I worth it?”
The same question.
But coming from him—
“Was I worth it?”
Elias’ voice was low, steady—but it carried something deeper.
Something raw.
Something dangerous.
The question hung between us, heavier than anything that had been said tonight.
I couldn’t answer.
Not because I didn’t have one— but because every answer felt like it would break something.
Elias took a step closer, his gaze locked on mine.
“It’s a simple question.”
“No,” I said quietly.
“It’s not.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Then make it simple.”
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself.
“You don’t get to demand answers from me like that.”
“And you don’t get to stand there and pretend like none of this matters,” he shot back.
“It does matter,” I said, my voice firmer now.
“That’s exactly why I’m not answering you.”
A tense silence fell between us.
Adrian shifted slightly beside me, his presence calm but alert.
“This isn’t the way to have this conversation.”
Elias didn’t even look at him.
“Stay out of it.”
“I won’t if you keep—”
“Oh, this is interesting.”
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Sharp.
Mocking.
Familiar.
My stomach dropped before I even turned.
Lucia.
She stepped into the corridor like she owned it, her heels clicking slowly against the marble floor, her lips curved into that same infuriating smile.
Her eyes moved between the three of us, taking everything in—and enjoying every second of it.
“Well,” she continued lightly, folding her arms, “this looks… intimate.”
Elias’ jaw clenched.
“Lucia, not now.”
“Oh, I think now is perfect,” she replied smoothly.
“I mean, I just heard enough to know we’re discussing feelings. How rare.”
I exhaled sharply, already feeling the shift in the air.
This— this was where things would go wrong.
Lucia’s gaze slid to me, slow and deliberate.
“So tell me, Althea… did you answer him yet? Or are you still pretending you’re above it all?”
“Stay out of this,” I said, my tone calm but firm.
She smiled wider.
“Why? Because I’m saying what everyone’s thinking?”
“No,” I replied, meeting her gaze directly.
“Because this doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, but it does,” she said, taking a step closer.
“It always does when it involves him.”
Elias ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear now.
“Lucia, stop.”
She ignored him.
Of course she did.
Her attention stayed on me, her eyes sharp, calculating.
“I think you’re still exactly the same. Still clinging. Still waiting. Still hoping he’ll choose you over what actually makes sense.”
Something in my chest tightened.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Not yet.
“And the funniest part?” she added softly, stepping even closer.
“You act like you walked away with dignity. But we both know you left because you weren’t enough.”
That— that did it.
The silence that followed was instant.
Heavy.
Final.
Elias’ head snapped toward her.
“Lucia—”
“Don’t.”
My voice cut through before he could continue.
Quiet.
But sharp enough to stop everything.
Lucia’s smile faltered slightly as I stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
“You’ve said enough,” I said, my tone controlled—but there was something underneath it now.
Something steady.
Something dangerous.
She tilted her head, amused again.
“Or what?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
I just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
At the confidence she wore like armor.
At the arrogance.
At the way she thought she could say anything and walk away untouched.
Not this time.
“You don’t get to speak about me like you know my story,” I said calmly.
“You don’t get to reduce me to something small just to make yourself feel bigger.”
Lucia let out a soft laugh.
“Oh please, I don’t need to make myself bigger. I already am.”
I took another step closer.
Close enough now.
“You’re loud,” I said quietly.
“Not powerful.”
That wiped the smile off her face.
Completely.
“Careful,” she warned, her voice dropping.
“No,” I replied, my gaze steady.
“You should be.”
And then— she made the mistake.
She stepped forward.
Too close.
Her hand brushed against my arm—light, dismissive, intentional.
Like I was nothing.
Like she could move me.
And before I even thought about it— before anyone could stop it— my hand moved.
The sound cracked through the corridor.
Sharp.
Loud.
Unmistakable.
Lucia’s head snapped to the side from the impact, her hair shifting with the force of it.
For a second, everything froze.
Silence.
Pure silence.
Even the air felt still.
My chest rose and fell steadily, my hand still slightly lifted where it had struck her.
No regret.
None.
Lucia slowly turned her head back, her expression no longer amused—no longer controlled.
Just shocked.
Furious.
“You—”
“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice low but unwavering.
Elias stared at me, something unreadable flashing across his face—surprise, tension… something else.
Adrian didn’t move, but I could feel it—the quiet shift beside me, the awareness, the readiness if things escalated.
Lucia let out a small, disbelieving laugh, her hand rising to her cheek.
“You just made a very big mistake.”
“No,” I replied calmly.
“You did.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“I’ve tolerated you long enough,” I continued.
“The comments. The looks. The games. I let it go because I didn’t think you were worth the energy.”
Her eyes burned into mine.
“But now?” I added, my voice dropping slightly.
“Now you’ve crossed a line.”
Elias stepped forward slightly.
“Althea—”
I didn’t look at him.
Didn’t break eye contact.
“If you have something to say to me,” I said to Lucia, “say it with your words. Not your hands. Not your manipulation. And definitely not behind fake smiles.”
Lucia’s lips parted, but no words came out immediately.
For once— she didn’t have control.
And she hated it.
I stepped back slightly, creating space again.
Then finally, I looked at Elias.
Just for a second.
Long enough for him to see it.
The difference.
The boundary.
The finality.
“I’m not that girl anymore,” I said quietly.
Then I turned.
And walked away.