The word "everything" echoed in Maëlys's mind, a cruel twist of a knife in a wound she couldn't fully recall. Eliott's confession wasn't just a revelation; it was a detonation, obliterating the last vestiges of her carefully constructed peace. They were everything. Messy. Complicated. Dangerous. The phantom whispers of the past solidified into undeniable truths, each one a fresh stab of agony.
She swayed, the room spinning, and Eliott moved, his hands reaching out to steady her. She flinched, pulling away as if his touch burned. The very man who had saved her, who had brought a terrifying comfort to her nightmares, was also the architect of this excruciating new reality.
"What does 'dangerous' mean, Eliott?" Her voice was barely a whisper, a strained plea for a clarity that promised only more pain. "What kind of 'everything' were we?"
His jaw tightened, his gaze hardening as if steeling himself for the inevitable. "We were... fire, Maëlys," he began, his voice low and raw, stripping away all pretense. "Consumed. All-encompassing. We burned bright, and sometimes, we burned each other. Liam... he was always a shadow in our light. He loved Léonie, but he was obsessed with what we had. He was unstable. And that night... he was driving the car. He was coming to confront us. To confront you."
The truth, when it finally emerged, was a torrent. Eliott, his face etched with torment, described the escalating tension before the crash. Liam's spiraling jealousy, his reckless behavior, fueled by a cocktail of anger and despair. He painted a picture of an inevitable collision, not just of vehicles, but of lives.
"He found out about us," Eliott continued, his voice thick with self-loathing. "About you and me. He was driving to meet you, to make you choose. I was following, trying to stop him. I knew... I knew something terrible would happen if I didn't get to him first." His eyes, filled with a desperate agony, met hers. "But I was too late. He lost control. He drove us all into hell."
Maëlys listened, numb, as he described the chaos, the screams, the desperate struggle to free her from the wreckage while Liam lay lifeless. His choice to pull her out, to risk everything, to let her forget – it wasn't just about saving her life. It was about saving her from the truth of what they were, and the destructive cycle that had led them to that fateful night.
"You let me forget," she repeated, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "You decided I should live a lie."
"I decided you deserved a chance at peace!" he roared, his voice cracking, raw emotion finally breaking through his controlled facade. "A life free from the mess we created, free from Liam's ghosts, free from mine." He took a step towards her, his eyes blazing, a possessive desperation in their depths. "I watched you suffer, Maëlys. The nightmares. The emptiness. I wanted to tell you, to help you, but what kind of healing could come from knowing you were part of something so destructive? From knowing Liam died because of us?"
His hand reached for her, but Maëlys recoiled, shaking her head furiously. The raw grief, the desperation in his eyes, it was overwhelming. He loved her, perhaps. But his love was a force of nature, a consuming inferno that had already laid waste to so much. This wasn't healing. This was an open wound, bleeding fresh truths she couldn't bear. The person she was most drawn to was indeed the one she should have never met. He was the heart of the storm, and she was trapped within its violent eye.