More Than Heart Could Desire 《 A George Weasley Love Story 》

Chapter#22 The Breaking Point

ANNA'S POV:

A few days later, after classes let out and the corridors emptied into a hush, George found himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. The wind was sharper up there, cold enough to sting, but it did little to numb the storm twisting in his chest.

He sat there, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles were white. He had been trying to find the right words for minutes, but everything felt too sharp, too heavy.

His heart refused to settle. This was it, the moment he'd run from for far too long.

He was about to tell Darla the truth.
Not the quiet half-truths he'd used to keep everything from falling apart.
But the truth.

That everything she'd ever suspected... every flicker of doubt she'd pushed down... every time she'd caught him looking at Anna longer than he should, had always been real. The guilt churned inside him so violently he thought he might be sick.

George's chest tightened as the memory replayed, Darla's hand shoving Anna aside, the sharp gasp Anna made as she lost her balance, the sickening thud of her hitting the floor.

He had felt something inside him crack then. Watching Anna, drunk, vulnerable, and confused, being treated like she was nothing... it tore through him in a way he still couldn't shake. Heartbreak. Anger. Guilt. All of it tangled painfully together.

He had never seen Darla like that, territorial and almost vicious. And he hated it. Hated that Anna had been on the receiving end of it.

But beneath the anger and the heartbreak, a quieter truth gnawed at him, one he could no longer ignore.

He wasn't innocent in this.
He wasn't fair to Darla. He had given her the shell of a partner while every real, living piece of him leaned toward Anna.

Every time he looked at Anna... every time he caught himself caring too much, wanting too much... every unspoken feeling between them became its own betrayal. And Darla sensed it.

While George's heart ached fiercely for everything Anna had endured, another weight pressed just as heavily against him, guilt. Crushing, unavoidable guilt.

Because Darla hadn't lashed out without reason. She had been driven there by the space he created between them. By the half-truths. By the distance he pretended wasn't growing. By a heart that had already wandered somewhere else.

He was in love with Anna.
And that love, no matter how quiet, restrained, unspoken, it was still powerful enough to fracture everything in its path. Even people who didn't deserve the fallout.

His nerves tightened with every passing second. He rubbed the back of his neck, breathing hard as he tried to steady himself.

Slow, heavy, hesitant footsteps echoed up the spiral stairs behind him.
George froze. The breath in his throat stalled as he turned.

Darla stepped into the pale afternoon light. It was first time he was seeing her after the party and the sight of her nearly shattered him.

Her eyes were swollen and red, the kind of red that spoke of tears cried quietly, privately, desperately. Her cheeks were blotchy, her expression guarded, like she wasn't sure she wanted to be here, but came anyway because she deserved answers. And because she deserved truth.