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.”

I had. Didn’t he see how much pain he was causing me? Here I was again, begging a man not

that mirrored my own. “You keep hurting me, Amaya,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I know I’m not

Pive.

his voice laced with a frustration that

on my tongue. Why couldn’t I let him go? The answer was as elusive as ever, tangled in the messy web of emotions and past

“I let down my walls for you, Amaya. I believed

me, the trust he’d placed in my hands. And here I was, failing

we could move past it, build something new together. But I see it now. You’re never going to

of emotions I couldn’t contain. And through the blurry haze of my own misery, I saw tears welling up

had we, two people who cared about each

stretched, a chasm opening

mere rasp, cut through the oppressive silence. “Do you still love him? Do

spot like a

thick and impossible to breathe. “… I don’t know,” I stammered, the words a pathetic croak against the crushing silence. The truth was a tangled mess, a knot of unresolved feelings and past hurts that I couldn’t untangle in this

doubts gnawing at the edges of my sanity. But the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in my throat, a physical manifestation of the

despair replacing the raw pain that had been etched there moments before. He shook his head slowly,

into the coffin of our relationship? Panic clawed at my insides, a frantic

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

insecurities. How could I confess the truth, the messy reality

the doorknob, the familiar click echoing in the suffocating silence. He paused for a moment, his back to

for this. But until we sort things out, and figure

were calm, almost clinical, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. But the undercurrent of hurt was unmistakable, a