A Bet That Changed Us ︱Pablo Gavi

45: unanswered kisses

Isabella's Pov

I sat on the bleachers, the game against Las Palmas unfolding before me. I should have been focused on the field, but my mind was miles away, tangled in the mess of emotions from the past week. Mikky sat beside me, chatting about the game, but I barely registered his words. My thoughts kept drifting back to Pablo.

Last week, we had shared something so intimate and raw. It felt like a turning point, a chance to rebuild what had been broken. But now, Pablo was back to his old ways, avoiding me, leaving me with nothing but unanswered questions.

Mikky noticed my distracted state. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

After the game, I waited outside the locker room, feeling a mixture of hope and dread. The players emerged one by one, chatting and laughing, but Pablo was the last to come out. My heart raced as I saw him approach, only to be met with his cold demeanor.

"I'm busy, sorry Bella," he said, his voice clipped. It was as if the connection we'd shared meant nothing now. I felt a sharp pang of frustration and hurt, the weight of his rejection almost unbearable.

I couldn't take it anymore. Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned and fled towards the car park. I needed to get away, to escape the suffocating pain. I stumbled through the darkness, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Just as I reached my car, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Pablo, his face etched with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. Before I could react, he was upon me, pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with longing and regret, as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn't say with words. His lips were warm and insistent against mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us.

When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes held mine for a fleeting second before he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, bewildered and overwhelmed. My tears flowed freely now, mixing with the cold air of the night. I felt so lost, caught between the echoes of our past and the uncertainty of our future.

As I headed home, the confusion and heartache settled in like a heavy fog. I couldn't make sense of what had just happened. Was this a sign that he wanted to fix things, or was it just another way of keeping me in limbo?

I climbed into my car, the emptiness of the night reflecting the turmoil inside me. I drove home, the road ahead seeming as uncertain as the path our relationship had taken. Each mile felt like a journey through the fragments of what we once were, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Pablo's Pov

I walked away from Isabella, my heart heavy and my mind a tangled mess of confusion and guilt. The kiss we shared had been charged with more than just longing—it was a desperate grasp at something we both knew was fragile and slipping through our fingers. I knew it was wrong to leave her with nothing but questions, but I wasn't ready to give her the answers she deserved.

Every time I saw her, I was reminded of how much I'd hurt her. I had been pushing myself to get better, to find a semblance of clarity, but the process was slow and painful. Therapy was helping, but it was like trying to mend a shattered vase with trembling hands. I thought I was making progress, but every step forward seemed to reveal new cracks.

When I kissed her, I was driven by a raw need to bridge the distance that had grown between us. The feeling of her lips against mine had been intoxicating, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt right. But reality crashed back in as soon as we broke apart. I couldn't ignore the fact that I wasn't ready—emotionally or mentally—to face what I'd done. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, a moment of passion would somehow bridge the gap, but I knew deep down it was a false hope.

I saw the confusion in her eyes, the tears she tried to hide, and it made my chest ache. I wanted to comfort her, to explain everything, but I was still grappling with my own turmoil. I was still wrestling with the mistakes I had made and the pain I had caused. I had hoped that by pushing her away, I'd give us both space to breathe and heal, but seeing her walk away, heartbroken, made me question if I was doing the right thing.

As I walked back to my car, I tried to focus on the road ahead. The silence of the parking lot was deafening. My emotions were a storm of regret and frustration. I wanted to be honest with her, to tell her that I was still working on myself and that I hoped we could find a way back to each other. But every time I tried to articulate it, the words felt hollow and inadequate.

The kiss, the silence, the confusion—it all seemed like a cruel joke. I was trying to be better, to be someone worthy of her love again, but it felt like every step I took was taking me further from her. I wanted to explain, to show her that I was working on fixing what was broken inside me, but I knew that right now, I was still a mess.

So, I left her standing there, tears streaming down her face, my heart breaking with every step I took away from her. I knew I had to keep working on myself, to heal, and maybe, one day, I'd be ready to face her again. Until then, all I could do was hope that she could understand why I needed this space, even if it felt like it was tearing us apart.