He didn't reach for her.
Didn't kneel.
Didn't beg.
Just stood there.
Chest rising.
Guilt flooding his voice before he spoke a single word.
"I had that file made because I was planning to use you."
The sentence shattered the space between them.
But Ana didn't flinch.
She just waited.
Because she didn't need drama.
She needed truth.
Christian took a breath.
"I was losing control of the board. Celeste warned me—bad press, scandals, rumors. I needed a move that looked clean. Human. Stable."
Pause.
"I chose you. Not because of love.
But because you looked like everything I wasn't."
He swallowed.
"And because you had nothing to take from me."
Ana didn't cry.
Just stared.
"So I was your alibi. Your proof of humanity."
He nodded, ashamed. "Yes. At first."
💔 The Shift
"But something happened," he said, voice breaking.
"It wasn't love at first sight. I don't believe in that."
"But one night, I walked past your studio… and you were sitting there alone, sketching with headphones on. You didn't hear me. You didn't even know I was there."
"You smiled at the paper like the world had finally made space for you."
"And I realized… you weren't a prop. You were a universe."
He stepped closer.
"I deleted the file the day after we first kissed. But Celeste… she saved her copy. For leverage. Or maybe to remind me who I used to be."
His voice cracked.
"I should've burned it. Should've told you. But I was too scared of losing you."
🥀 Ana's Voice
She finally spoke.
Calm. Quiet. Devastating.
"You didn't lose me tonight, Christian."
He exhaled—hope flickering.
"You lost the version of me who didn't know how you picked me."
Silence.
"Now, I have to decide if the woman I am… can stay with the man you were."
She walked past him.
Not away.
Just into another room.
To breathe.
Christian stood there.
Alone.
With a file in a drawer, and the truth finally not hidden anymore.
📓 Ana's Journal Entry #11
I used to dream of being chosen.
I never asked what the reason would be.
Now I know.
It wasn't because I was radiant.
Or brave.
Or wildly unforgettable.
It was because I was quiet.
Contained.
Manageable.
I looked like someone who wouldn't fight back.
He didn't fall in love with me.
He selected me.
Like I was a perfect investment.
Something you study, scan, and file under "low risk, high PR."
But here's what he didn't plan for:
That the quiet girl would wake up.
That she'd grow teeth.
That she'd see through the silk.
And now…
He says he's changed.
And maybe he has.
But the file exists.
Not just in the drawer.
In my memory.
And memory doesn't burn like paper.
He says he loves me now.
I believe him.
But love doesn't erase origin stories.
And this one began in manipulation.
So I'm not asking "Do I love him?"
I'm asking—
"Can I trust love that started in a lie?"
She closed the journal slowly.
No shaking hands.
No tear marks this time.
Just breath.
And stillness.
Because power, she realized…
Isn't leaving.
It's deciding whether to stay.
End of Entry
To be continued…