It Should Have Been Like This (The Revised Version)

Chapter 107: Locked In (2)

"Useless," I muttered, shaking my head and leaning further into the armrest of the sofa. The fabric felt damp, and I shifted again, trying to touch as little of it as possible.

Apollo leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as though he were perfectly comfortable, but I knew better. He thrived on tension, and this situation was no different. A heavy silence settled between us, but it was far from peaceful. The noises from outside—the cries, the moans, the unmistakable sound of a furniture slamming against a wall—filled the void like an unwelcome guest.

"You've changed," Apollo finally said, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

I turned to him, my expression flat and unimpressed. "What?"

"What you did out there…" he trailed off, his tone strangely contemplative, though the familiar edge of derision lingered.

"I don't see anything wrong with seducing my husband," I replied sharply, emphasizing the word ‘husband' with venom.

"You don't have to rub it in," he said with a scoff, though his smirk faltered. "I already knew that before dragging my ass in here. I love him, but I'm not stupid. Only a fool would still have hope for a future with a man who died in every way possible after the supposed death of his girlfriend—"

"Fiancée," I corrected, my tone icy.

"Other woman," he retorted without missing a beat, his smirk returning with renewed sharpness.

The words hit like a slap, even though I should've been used to them by now. He was right. I had been the other woman, and no amount of titles or rings could erase that fact. My jaw clenched, and I bit down hard on my lip, forcing myself to keep my composure. My nails dug into the skin of my arms, the pressure grounding me as my emotions threatened to spiral.

"Relax," Apollo said, his voice mockingly light. "You can look on the bright side—you got him in the end. Even if you don't deserve him."

My head snapped back toward him, and my glare was sharp enough to cut. The smug look on his face only made my blood boil hotter. "If I don't deserve him, then who does? You?" I shot back, my voice dripping with derision.

His smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second, but I caught it. Satisfaction flared briefly in my chest before the oppressive weight of the situation crashed back down. The muffled cries from beyond the door grew louder, and my stomach twisted. I turned away, focusing on the peeling wallpaper and trying, desperately, to ignore the suffocating heat, the stench, and the weight of Apollo's gaze.

"No, but certainly not you or Peyton. Rominic deserves more than he got from the two of you—"

The words sliced through the suffocating air of the room like a blade, sharp and precise. Heat surged through my body, and I shot to my feet before I could think better of it. Anger churned in my chest, hot and relentless, threatening to spill over. "What the—"

"The girl he was infatuated with was a selfish, two-timing, two-faced gold digger," Apollo spat, his tone dripping with venom, "and the other woman was a psychopath in need of a million therapy sessions." He leaned forward, his sneer deepening, his eyes burning with a cruel, knowing glint. "Just as easily as you see through me, I see through you, Lavender. So I know that everything that happened between you and Rominic was your fault."

The air seemed to thicken around me, heavy with tension and the mingling stench of sweat and semen. My heart plummeted into my stomach, a cold dread spreading like frost across my skin. It started at my forehead, tightening until my temples throbbed. Somehow, deep down, I already knew that whatever he was about to say next would hit where it hurt the most.

"Lavender," he continued, his voice softening just enough to make his words feel more intimate—and more devastating—"have you ever asked yourself why you didn't listen to anyone? Even I tried to warn you by telling that Ferris Wheel friend of yours, but what did you do when they tried to warn you?"

My breath hitched. Wait, Apollo was the one who told Ferris?

"Why didn't you tell me yourself?" I asked defensively, my voice cracking slightly despite my effort to stay composed. My arms folded tightly across my chest, a flimsy attempt to shield myself from the onslaught.

He scoffed, leaning back as if the answer were obvious. "How was I supposed to tell you when you never liked me? You would've thought I was trying to ruin your relationship, just like you did to others. Lavender, you alone are to blame for your ignorance in that area."

His words crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and cold despite the oppressive heat of the room. The distant sounds of moans and muffled music seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

"Peyton was a bad seed," Apollo pressed on, his voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts. "A toxic crude that fueled his hate. He listened to no one—only her. Then he met you, the sweetest little stupid plum." He let out a derisive chuckle, and I rolled my eyes, unwilling to let the insult stick. "You were so naïve, too pure for this world and the darkness that came with it. You were an angel spreading light, and we instantly knew you were the exact cure to his Peyton virus. That's why his family and friends kept their relationship away from you. They hoped he'd fall in love with you—and he did."

The room felt smaller with every word, the air hotter and harder to breathe. I shifted on my feet, but there was no escape from his piercing gaze or the truth in his words.

"You slowly removed her chains from him," Apollo continued, his tone softening in a way that almost felt like pity. "But his mind was still crowded with anger, making him hesitate. I knew the best way to get him to surrender completely was if he lost you. So I tried telling your friends, hoping they'd warn you, you'd get mad and leave. That way, he'd realize his mistake before he made it, and it would be easier for you to forgive him."

His voice hardened again, his eyes narrowing as he delivered the final blow. "But I failed. You were as chained as he was. If you weren't so blind and stupid, everything that happened wouldn't have."

I stood frozen, every muscle in my body taut with tension. The words burned, scorching away my defenses and leaving me raw and exposed. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, to slap that smug look off his face. But the truth hung in the air, undeniable and suffocating. Even as rage bubbled up inside me, I couldn't bring myself to speak.

The signs had been there, etched into the walls of my life as plainly as graffiti, and I'd ignored them. I'd sealed my own fate the moment I chose to believe the lies I told myself. How could I have been so foolish as to think they were truly friends? No one liked Peyton, not even Phineas—a man who wouldn't kill a cockroach if he tried. The signs had screamed at me, but I'd turned away, choosing not to see. It was my fault.

Apollo's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, sharp and unrelenting. "You alone could've prevented everything, but you chose not to. That's exactly why I despised you. None of you deserve him."

"True," I whispered, my voice trembling but steady enough to hold the weight of my resolve. "I don't deserve him." I lifted my gaze to meet his, my expression calm despite the storm raging inside me. A soft, bitter smile curved my lips. "But neither does he deserve me."