7| Thoughts

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I might come across as an asshole for saying this, but I'm not going to keep her under any illusions. She deserves to know the truth—that the man she just agreed to spend her life with is not built for this... feelings business. Not now. Probably not ever.

She has a right to know.

I'm damaged—beyond repair, maybe—but she's not. She's untouched by the kind of darkness I've let seep into my bones.

Diya is exceptional. An example of grace under pressure, the kind of woman who commands respect without demanding it. A perfect businesswoman. A loyal companion. The kind of person any man would be lucky to have by his side.

And yet, here I am—the man with walls so high and so thick they've become a fortress. Nobody gets in. Nobody ever will.

I'm no gentleman, and she should know that. I think I proved as much by not even bothering to ask for her opinion before agreeing.

It was 12:30, and the thought of sitting idle at home suffocated me. So, I left.

Fifteen minutes later, after a silent drive, I was back at my own place.

As I walked through the hallway, faint murmurs reached my ears—low, hurried voices. But the moment I stepped past the couch, they stopped. Completely.

Which told me everything I needed to know.

I stayed in the hall.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. I could feel their eyes drilling into the back of my head. Still, I turned anyway and stepped toward the couch.

"Out," I said, stripping off my jacket and tossing it lazily onto the cushions.

And, like two guilty shadows, they emerged—my two personal little devils. Smiles plastered on their faces, though not quite able to mask the nervous flicker in their eyes.

They stood there with their best innocent expressions, the kind that usually worked on everyone in the house. Especially the elder one.

"Explain," I said flatly.

"What?" they chorused in perfect unison.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I'd taught them well, and I knew better than to think anything was "normal" when the twins were involved.

But no one plays games with me—not successfully, anyway.

I never force. I don't need to. I have my own ways of getting what I want. And even though I claim I don't care much for anyone, this is still my family. That counts for something... even if my pride won't let me admit it out loud.

When it became obvious they weren't going to confess, I decided not to waste my time. I started to rise from the couch.

Bad move.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐜𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲  ( 𝐃𝐮𝐞𝐭 : 𝟎𝟏 )Where stories live. Discover now