Bella sat at the café table, fingers gripping the cold cup of ice cream Chris had set in front of her. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't even sure why she came. Closure? Curiosity? Or the need to hear him finally say the words.
Chris looked different. Not in his body — his broad shoulders still filled his shirt, his jaw still sharp — but in his eyes. They were softer, darker, weighed down by something between guilt and desperation.
"Bella…" he started, voice low, almost breaking. "I'm sorry."
The words landed between them like shattered glass. She wanted to pick them up and throw them at him. Instead, she sat there, lips pressed into a thin line.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his gaze searching hers. "That girl… she was from my past. You don't know what she's capable of. She knows me, Bella. She knows every damn weakness I've ever had. And that night—" he raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "She said things I shouldn't have listened to. Things that dragged me back. I swear, I didn't mean for it to happen."
Bella's laugh was bitter, short. "Dragged you back? You're not a child, Chris. You had a choice."
He flinched. "I know. I know I fucked up. But you don't understand the pull she has. It was like… like a trap. I felt overwhelmed. But it meant nothing—nothing. You're the one I want, Bella."
Her chest tightened, anger and grief twining together. "Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize how pathetic that sounds?" She shook her head, spoon untouched in the melting swirl of ice cream. "You sat with another woman hours after leaving me. You expect me to believe it meant nothing?"
Chris's eyes flashed, frustration bleeding through his guilt. "Don't turn this into a one-way street, Bella. Don't act like you're spotless in this. I came to your house the other day — do you remember? I saw Adrian. I saw him there. Don't lie to me."
Bella froze. The name — Adrian — sent a shiver down her spine, heat and shame colliding.
Chris leaned closer, voice low and sharp. "Why are you defending him like he's some saint? Why are you acting like I'm the only one at fault? You let him in. You slept with him." His jaw tightened. "So tell me, Bella, what gives you the right to stand there and judge me?"
Her heart thundered, but she didn't flinch. Instead, her voice cut like ice. "Do not twist this, Chris. Do not dare twist this. Who caused the drift between us? You did. You left me empty, you left me doubting, and then you sat with another woman as if I didn't exist. And now you want to play the victim?"
His nostrils flared. For a long moment, neither spoke. Their silence was heavier than words.
Finally, Chris exhaled, slumping back in his chair. His voice cracked with rawness. "You're right. You're right. I caused all this." His hand reached across the table, fingers brushing hers, tentative, trembling. "But Bella… I don't want to lose us. Please. Let's not destroy this beautiful thing we built. I need you."
Her chest ached, her body torn between anger and the familiarity of his touch.
He leaned closer, trying to kiss her, but she turned her face away. His lips landed on her cheek, burning and unwanted.
"Don't," she whispered.
The air between them thickened, sharp as broken glass. The ice cream was nothing but a sweet, melting mess now.
Bella pushed the cup aside and stood, gathering her bag. "I can't do this right now."
Chris rose too, desperation in every movement. "Bella—"
Her phone buzzed, cutting him off. She glanced at the screen, the message short and demanding. Her throat tightened. Without another word, she walked out of the café, leaving Chris staring after her.
His voice stayed in her head—the pleading tone, the desperate eyes, the reach across the table. As if ice cream and an apology could undo the damage he caused. She hated herself for coming. For giving him that hour. For letting him pull her back into circles she swore she had left behind.
Yet when she left him, she felt no relief. Only confusion.
Chris's words clung to her like smoke: "I know I messed up, but you've been with Adrian, haven't you? Don't stand there acting righteous when you're guilty too."
She wanted to scream at him, wanted to throw the damn ice cream in his face. When she finally walked away, her hands shook. Her lips stayed pressed tight. Inside, she felt like a battlefield.
By the time she returned home, her body was heavy with exhaustion. She sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands, wondering if she had the strength to keep carrying this. Chris's betrayal. Adrian's shadow. Her own weakness.
A knock at the door startled her.
Not Chris. She knew his knock — sharp, hurried, impatient. This one was slow, deliberate, almost teasing.
She opened the door. Adrian was waiting. Tall. Magnetic. Holding two paper bags, the smell of takeout spilling out like comfort. His grin was boyish, almost dangerous.
"Didn't think you'd eaten," he said, stepping inside without waiting for her to invite him. "And if I'm wrong, then lucky you. More food."
Bella blinked, masking her surprise. "Adrian… I wasn't expecting you."
"You never do." He shrugged, dropping the bags on her table. "That's why I like showing up."
She forced a small laugh, trying to cover her pounding heart. If only he knew where she'd been. If only he knew who she had sat across from less than an hour ago.
"Where were you anyway?" he asked pulling out cartons and drinks.
Her throat tightened. She couldn't say Chris. Not now. Not ever.
"I bumped into… a friend," she said, hurrying toward the food to avoid his eyes. "We talked. That's all."
Adrian studied her for a moment, like he could see right through the lie. But then he smirked and handed her chopsticks. "Lucky friend."
They ate, or at least Adrian did. Bella pushed noodles around her plate, her stomach twisted too tight for appetite. But she watched him, and every time he smiled, something in her chest loosened. Every time his voice dipped lower, every time his hand brushed hers on the table, her skin caught fire.
He was too close. Too much. Too everything.
"Why are you staring?" he teased, his mouth curving.
Bella swallowed. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are." He leaned in, his voice a velvet knife. "You've been looking at me like I'm dessert. And you know what? I don't mind if you devour me."
Her breath caught. "Adrian—"
He didn't wait for permission. He kissed her, rough and claiming, as if he'd been starving for her all along. She gasped. In that breath, he caught her—his tongue brushing hers, heat sparking until her knees almost gave way.
The food lay almost untouched.
He lifted her in one motion, carrying her to the couch, his mouth locked to hers. She felt the strength in his arms, the hard press of his body, the urgency in every step. When he dropped her onto the cushions, she was already breathless, her heart racing like she'd run miles.
Adrian's eyes burned into her. "Tell me no, Bella. If you want me to stop, say it now."
She didn't. She couldn't.
She squeezed her eyes shut, torn between the man she loved and the man who set her on fire.
One more second, one more kiss—and she knew the line between choice and mistake would disappear.