The knocking at my door had been relentless for hours.
I hadn't answered.
I couldn't.
I wasn't ready to see him—not after everything. Anger sat heavy in my chest, tangled with betrayal and confusion until it hurt to breathe. I told myself that if I stayed still long enough, he'd leave.
He didn't.
Eventually, my legs moved on their own.
I opened the door.
Keifer stood in the corridor, and for the first time, he didn't look like himself. No arrogance. No control. Just a man stripped down to raw desperation. His eyes locked onto mine, red-rimmed and pleading, like he'd been holding himself together by sheer will.
"Jay…" His voice broke. "Please. Just hear me out."
I crossed my arms, gripping myself like armor. "Explain," I said coldly. "But don't insult me with lies."
He swallowed and stepped inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, my condo felt smaller—too tight, too charged. His eyes never left my face, like he was afraid I'd vanish if he blinked.
"Yes?" I prompted, my voice steady even though my hands trembled.
"The engagement with Ion," he said quickly, like the words were burning him. "It wasn't my choice. Keigan arranged it. I never wanted it. You have to believe me—I would never betray you."
My chest tightened painfully.
"And the kiss," he continued, shame dragging his gaze down. "It meant nothing. She kissed me. I didn't kiss her back. It wasn't supposed to happen. Jay… you know me. You know what you mean to me."
Memories surged—unwanted, vivid, cruel.
"And the London photo," he said, voice shaking now. "That was a setup. My relatives planned it. They wanted me to look guilty. They wanted to ruin us."
He hesitated, then added softly, almost breaking, "And Ella's pictures… the things in my phone—I didn't even know they were there. I don't remember having them. I swear. I never meant for you to see any of that."
I didn't laugh this time.
Keifer pulled out his phone.
"I won't make excuses," he said, voice rough. "I won't ask you to trust me just because I say so."
He unlocked the screen and turned it toward me. The images were there—every one of them—burning into my chest like proof I hadn't imagined the pain.
Then, without hesitation, he tapped the screen.
Deleted.
One picture.
Then another.
And another.
No pause.
No second glance.
"She is nothing to me," he said firmly, even as his hands trembled. "Nothing. She never mattered."
The last image disappeared.
"You're the only one I want," he continued, stepping closer but not touching me. "You're the only thing that matters to me in my life."
His breath shook.
"If I lose you," he said, voice breaking completely, "I lose myself. That's the truth."
He handed me the phone, screen blank, empty.
I stared at it, then at him.
And that was the cruelest part.
Tears filled his eyes.
Mine burned too, but I refused to let them fall.
I wanted to scream. To demand proof. To tear every excuse apart. Part of me wanted—hated that it wanted—to believe him.
But belief didn't erase pain.
I motioned toward the sofa. "Sit."
His eyes widened in surprise, but he obeyed instantly, sinking down like the weight of everything had finally crushed him.
I stayed standing.
Looking down at him, I realized something sharp and ugly.
Even if he was telling the truth… the damage was already done.
"You think this is about explanations?" I said quietly. "About fixing details?"
He looked up at me, hope flickering.
"This," I continued, my voice trembling despite myself, "is about trust. And you destroyed mine."
"Jay, please—"
"No," I cut in. "You don't get a 'please' right now."
His face crumpled.
"I don't know if everything you said is true," I said. "Maybe it is. Maybe you really were trapped. But you still hurt me. You still let me doubt myself. You still let me feel stupid for loving you."
Silence fell between us—thick and suffocating.
"I can't forgive you," I said finally. "Not now. Maybe not ever."
His breath hitched.
"So… this is it?" he asked hoarsely.
I looked away, because if I didn't, I might break. "This is me choosing myself.
Slowly, he stood. He didn't argue. Didn't beg again. That somehow hurt more.
"I'll wait," he said quietly. "Even if it takes forever."
I opened the door.
"Don't," I said. "Waiting doesn't erase what happened."
He nodded, eyes shining, and stepped out.
When the door closed behind him, my legs gave out.
I slid down against it, finally letting the tears fall.
I hadn't forgiven him.but i will!but not now
But letting go hurt just as much.
And that scared me.
Heyy guyss i upload as i promised 😉
For the nezt chapter i want...
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