Rebirth: Love me Again

Chapter 45: Fragments of What We Were

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"Of course you don't."

The memory hit me like a wave crashing over jagged rocks, pulling me back to a time when things were simpler—yet somehow more painful.

"When we were younger, I used to follow you around everywhere. Like a shadow that wouldn't disappear," I began, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "You never wanted me there, though. You never liked having me around. I was just . . . annoying to you."

I looked down at the cream puff in my hand, a smile tugging at my lips despite the bitter taste of the past. "But every year, on my birthday, there'd be this little box of cream puffs waiting for me. I used to think it was from my mother. That maybe, just maybe, she cared enough to get me something for the first time."

I paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But then, I found out it was you. You were the one sneaking them to me, never saying a word, never admitting it. You were never the type to show affection, but those cream puffs . . . they were the one thing I clung to. The only sign that you maybe cared a little, even if you couldn't say it."

Cole's face remained blank, but there was something in his eyes—something distant, almost unreachable. He didn't interrupt, just stood there, letting me pour out years of pent-up emotion.

"But the truth is . . ." I locked eyes with him, my voice steady but cutting. "I later discovered that the one sending me those cream puffs was your mother, not you."

His silence roared in the stillness, a deafening acknowledgment that spoke volumes. It was all I needed.

"I was always the one chasing after you. Every smile, every look—I cherished them like they were everything, but they were just scraps you threw my way. And now, here you are, bringing me cream puffs like it still means something."

The silence between us was heavy, suffocating, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to fall. "But it doesn't mean anything anymore, does it? Because you never really cared the way I did. You've never really cared from the start . . . so why care now?"

The sweetness of the cream puff in my hand suddenly felt overwhelming, like a sickly reminder of the past. The past where I had always been reaching out for something that was never truly mine to hold.

I shoved the cream puffs away from me, watching as they tumbled to the floor, their sweet shells rolling like forgotten dreams.

My eyes, void of warmth, tracked their descent. "I don't want them anymore. In fact, I hate them now."

Cole remained unfazed by the fallen pastries, his gaze locked on me with an intensity that felt almost suffocating.

"Eve . . ." he began, a tremor of struggle threading through his voice. "I know I haven't been exactly kind to you, but I want to change that now."

A bitter huff escaped my lips, a mix of incredulity and anger. "Change it? After everything you've done?" My eyes narrowed, piercing through him like daggers. "You think that just because you want to change, I'll simply say, 'Oh yes, let's start all over again, shall we?'"

I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. How desperately I had wished for our relationship to be different in the past.

How I had longed to hear those very words from him, the promise of a fresh start—but now? It felt like a cruel joke, the timing too late to matter.

Too late.

"I don't want you anymore. What I want is the freedom that comes with severing our ties." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but they were liberating.

The thought of no longer feeling his icy presence lurking over my thoughts, sent a thrill of exhilaration coursing through me. This was my moment of release, the beginning of reclaiming my life from the shadows he cast.

But it was never that simple, was it?

Every moment he stood there, a living reminder of all I'd fought against. The way he gazed at me, eyes glimmering with something I couldn't decipher—was it pity? Regret?

Whatever it was, I didn't want it. I didn't want him. I wanted to reclaim my life, to erase every memory that tethered me to him.

I hated that I still cared, that his very existence still stirred something within me, a flicker of longing I desperately tried to extinguish.

I needed him gone—gone from my mind, gone from my heart, gone from the space I'd carved out for healing.

My resolve hardened like steel as I faced him, forcing myself to summon the words that would cut through the tangled emotions.

"Just leave," I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of unspoken pain. "I don't want you here. Not now, not ever."

Cole's lips pressed into a thin line, the mask of cold indifference he'd always worn now cracking.

For the first time in my life, I saw it—how that rigid hardness in his face softened, as if the emotions he kept buried were finally stirring beneath the surface.

I tore my gaze away, unwilling to be swayed. There was nothing he could say or do to change my mind.

"I will leave," he said at last, his voice steady, though I could sense the storm still brewing behind it.

His composure had returned, his expression once again carefully guarded. "If space is what you need, then I'll give it to you. If this is what you want, I won't stand in your way."

For a moment, he almost sounded like the domineering Cole I had known all my life, the man who always kept control. But then his tone shifted—softer, more vulnerable, yet still resolute.

"However, it doesn't mean I've given up. I understand why you hate me, after everything I've put you through. It's only right. So hate me, push me away, throw insults at me if that's what you need to feel better."

He bent down, slowly gathering the fallen cream puffs from the floor, his movements careful, deliberate.

As he placed them back in the box, there was a strange tenderness in the way he handled them, as if they were fragile, like the remnants of what we once had.

He set the box gently on the table before turning to face me one last time.

"Just know," his voice softened, filled with quiet resolve, "I'm not asking for forgiveness right away, but I'll spend every day earning it, piece by piece. I'll take all the time you need, as long as there's even the smallest chance to make things right."

And with that, he walked out, leaving me alone—confused, reeling, and more uncertain than ever.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed felt deafening.

The walls I'd built so carefully around my heart trembled, shaken by the one person I had sworn to lock out forever.