Bonds

Chapter 106

-Maya’s POV-

My mind went blank. Everything, the room, the unanswered questions about the break–in, the fear for the twins, all of it just… faded. My body froze in place, stuck in a single moment, unable to react. “What…?” The word escaped my lips in a choked whisper, barely audible even In the silence of the room. He couldn’t be serious. Not now. Not when my world was already crumbling around me, each piece of my carefully constructed life falling away like dust.

He stared back at me, his own eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored the cold dread blooming in my gut. “I have tried, Amaya,” he said, his voice thick with what sounded like genuine pain. “I really have. But it seems like no matter what I do, it will never be enough.” His words were punctuated by a ragged sigh, a sound of defeat that echoed the one building in my own chest.

“Enough for what?” I wanted to ask, the question burning a hole in my throat. But the words wouldn’t come. My brain, usually quick and sharp, felt sluggish, stuck processing the sheer impossibility of what he was saying.

“For you to let him go,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “It’s tiring, Amaya. It’s exhausting, constantly feeling like I’m competing with a ghost but it is worse than that because he is constantly there.” He winced as if the words themselves caused him physical pain.

“I hate that I’m doing this now,” he mumbled, trailing off. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Please stop crying,” he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly.

I hadn’t even realized the tears were already streaming down my face, hot and silent tracks etching themselves down my cheeks. Suddenly, the image of my life without him slammed into me, a terrifying vision of empty spaces and echoing silence. Ivan had become a constant, a presence so woven into the fabric of my daily life that I couldn’t imagine it unraveled.

What would I do if he wasn’t there anymore?

How would the twins take it, these little people who had come to love him as their dad, even if he wasn’t their biological father?

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through me.

“Please,” I found myself saying, the word a weak plea escaping my lips. It was the only thing I could process in the face of this overwhelming emotional storm. “Please don’t do this to me. Please, I’m begging you.”

even as I spoke them, but they were all I had. Didn’t he see how much pain he was causing me? Here I was again, begging a man not to leave. A

own. “You keep hurting me, Amaya,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I know I’m not perfect, nobody is. But I’ve tried. I really have.”

Pive.

you let Alex go?” he asked, his voice laced with a frustration that mirrored

pill on my tongue. Why couldn’t I let him go? The answer was as elusive as ever, tangled

frustration. “I let down my walls for you, Amaya. I believed you, I shut people out, but I told you what happened in my past. Something I’ve

a reminder of the vulnerability he’d shown me, the trust he’d placed in my hands. And here I was,

out like a prayer, his voice dropping back down to a pained whisper. “Why? I thought we could move past it, build something new together. But I see it now. You’re never going to let him go, and I need to walk away before you

contain. And through the blurry haze of my own

we, two people who cared

silence stretched, a chasm opening wider with

pinned me in place. His voice, a mere rasp, cut through the oppressive silence. “Do you still

me to the spot like a deer caught

tangled mess, a knot of unresolved feelings and past hurts that I couldn’t untangle in this moment of emotional

from the rooftops until the echo drowned out the doubts gnawing at the edges of my sanity. But the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in

raw pain that had been etched there moments before. He shook his head slowly, the movement a silent confirmation of the fear that had been

final nail hammered into the coffin of our relationship? Panic clawed at my insides, a frantic need to reach out, to grab him before he walked away and took

there for a moment longer, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe, just maybe, a part of him was hoping for a different answer, a desperate plea that would mend the fractured pieces of our

the words remained trapped, tangled in the web of my own insecurities. How could I confess the truth, the messy reality

grasped the doorknob, the familiar click echoing in the suffocating silence. He paused for

whoever is responsible for this. But until we sort things out, and figure out a way to finalize the end of things, I think it’s best if I stay at

contrast to the storm raging inside me. But the undercurrent of hurt was unmistakable, a raw wound exposed