93 | farewell

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"I'll never leave before you do

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"I'll never leave before you do."

Nevaeh words echo in my ears as I finally arrive in front of the door to my penthouse. I still remember that her voice cracked when she said that sentence to me -- it was filled with so much sadness.

Carter, my bodyguard who's in charge at the door, stares at me with wide eyes. I don't blame him. I look like a mess. My hair is in disarray, my clothes are crumpled, and I can't hide my exhaustion I'm practically walking up like a zombie.

I'm so fucked up, and I wish that someone could just beat me into a bloody pulp -- hurt me so badly physically -- so that I can't feel this pain in my heart anymore.

I know that once I step into my house, I'll have to face what needs to be done even though it will shatter my heart into a million pieces.

Before Carter can ask me if I'm okay, I open the door. I close it behind me, sigh, and rake my fingers through my hair.

How the fuck am I going to face Nevaeh?

Just thinking about her is already killing me. How am I going to survive when I see her again?

It's almost four in the morning. I assume that everyone else is sleeping. I didn't respond to Ashton and Nevaeh at all when they tried to reach me, so they shouldn't expect me to return at this hour.

The silence I expected is broken as I hear Nevaeh call my name, "Aiden?"

My heart skips a beat, and before I can prepare myself, Nevaeh appears from the corner of the foyer.

She hurries toward me. She looks tired, and worry skates on her face. However, there's relief in her expression from knowing that I'm finally home, and it does something to my heart.

I quickly compose myself. I can't let my feelings for her lead me to another mistake.

The relief on her face is soon replaced by shock when she notices the cut on my lips from Roman's attack. She lets out a small gasp, trying to touch my face.

I automatically snap her hand off, glaring at her. I don't need your sympathy.

She retreats, taken aback by my rude gesture. The look in her eyes tells me that it hurt her, and a curse almost slips from my mouth.

Her pained expression breaks me. I want to pull her into my arms and hold her tight. Tell her that I missed her. Tell her that I need her. Tell her how much I want to be with her.

But I can't. I can't keep being that selfish asshole.

Instead, I turn away, ignoring her when she asks, "Is everything okay?"

She follows me, trying to catch up with my pace. "I tried to contact you a few times, but you didn't answer any of my texts and calls."

I'm thinking hard about the answer I should give her, but once I step into the living room, I lose the ability to speak.

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