I am his

54

Naomi

Days had passed since I last spoke to Kaden, yet every fiber of my being wanted to believe him. The sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotions he exuded—it was hard to deny his plea of innocence. He claimed he hadn't cheated, and I desperately clung to the belief that he was telling the truth.

As I strolled through the school's bustling halls, I couldn't shake the image of Kaden, buried in books in the library—a sight I had rarely witnessed before. His appearance startled me; gone was the usual confident swagger, replaced by a broken, defeated demeanor. I couldn't help but approach him, setting my bag down on the table beside him.

"Are you okay?" I asked in a soft whisper, noticing the redness and puffiness of his eyes. He glanced at his book, pulling out a chair for me to sit, but he remained silent, barely able to meet my gaze.

"I believe you," I confessed gently, the words offering a glimmer of solace to his troubled soul. A faint smile crept onto his face, a fleeting moment of relief amidst the storm of emotions that surrounded us.

His sadness weighed heavily on my heart, making me ache to see him in such turmoil. Gone were the familiar snarky comments and smirks, replaced by an authenticity that laid bare his vulnerability.

"We can talk if you want. I've finished my classes for today," I offered, taking his hand in mine. His watery eyes locked with mine as he turned the page of his book, his green eyes more vivid than ever against the backdrop of his pain.

He closed the book, allowing himself to let go of his façade, revealing the messiness of his emotions. The tattoos adorning his skin, which once seemed like mere ink, now seemed like art reflecting his complex soul.

"I'm sorry," he spoke in a husky voice, the admission tinged with a sense of remorse. My heart swelled with compassion, and I couldn't help but smile, reassuring him that I understood.

"I know," I whispered, my voice carrying the weight of forgiveness.

With tears brimming in his eyes, he confessed, "I didn't cheat on you, I didn't." His voice cracked, exposing the depth of his pain as he released my hand.

Summoning courage, I invited him to my house, a safe space where we could confront the truth and heal together. His teary-eyed gaze met mine, and he nodded, silently accepting my offer.

-

As I shut the door behind us, an air of mystery hung in the room, enveloping us both. He remained silent during our journey, but his eyes spoke volumes. I led him to my room, where the weight of unspoken emotions filled the space.

As I locked the door, a small smile formed on my lips, hoping to break the tension. But as I looked at him, I noticed his lack of a smile. There was pain in his eyes, and it struck a chord deep within me. I knew I needed him, but in that moment, it was clear that he needed me even more.

Gently, I sat next to him, and with a tender touch, I caressed his cheek. His gaze met mine, and the pain in his eyes spoke of a world of hurt. I could no longer resist the urge to comfort him, and slowly, I leaned in and kissed him. At first, he seemed distant, but then he responded, and our lips moved in perfect harmony.

The familiarity of kissing him overwhelmed me, and I found myself getting lost in the moment. My hand gently cradled the back of his neck as I straddled his lap. Though his touch was different from before, I guided his hand to my waist, craving that connection we once had.

As we continued our embrace, my fingers traced a path down his neck, and his low groan echoed in the room. With a whispered response, I revealed my longing for him, and our passion intensified. Soon, we found ourselves entangled on my bed, but something was off – he appeared somber and drained.