Rivals of the heart

14.Cracks in the Armor: Bella and William's Unspoken Tensions

William's POV:

The moment the words left her mouth, it hit me harder than I expected.

"We're not together."

It was the truth. We weren't together. But hearing Bella say it, so quickly, like the mere idea of us being anything more than colleagues was ridiculous—it stung. I wasn't supposed to care. I wasn't supposed to feel this hollow ache in my chest, but I did.

I glanced at her, hoping for something—some flicker of emotion, some sign that it bothered her too. But no, she was the same as always. Calm. Unaffected. Professional.

She couldn't care less.

I forced the words out of my mouth, "Yeah... she's right. It's not like that." The truth never felt this bitter. It felt like admitting defeat, like closing a door I had barely started to open. My voice sounded strained even to my own ears, but she didn't notice. She didn't notice anything.

As we worked, I couldn't focus. My mind kept going back to her denial. It echoed in my head. What went wrong? What did I do to make her hate me this much? Why was she so cold, so indifferent toward me? Five years, and this is where we were. She didn't care. She never cared.

I stole a glance at her. She was bent over the papers, completely engrossed in the project, like my presence meant nothing. She always kept it professional, never let anything slip, never let me in.

I wanted more. God, I wanted more of her in every way. I wanted her attention, her laughter, her annoyance, her everything. But all I ever got was distance. Polite indifference. That damned professionalism.

It killed me how unaffected she was, like I didn't even exist in her world outside of work. I hated it. I hated how she didn't flinch when we were in the same room. How she could look right through me, like I was just another obstacle in her day. Every time she acted like this, it felt like she was pushing me further away, putting up walls I had no idea how to break.

What happened to us? Where did I go so wrong that she despised me like this? All these years of tension, of moments I thought meant something, and now... now she wouldn't even acknowledge me outside of these work meetings. And the worst part? She didn't even hate me. She was indifferent. It was worse than hate.

I wanted her to look at me and feel something. Anything. Anger, frustration, desire—I didn't care. As long as it was real. As long as it wasn't this cold, empty professionalism. But all I ever got from her was a mask.

And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I couldn't stop wanting more. Every part of me ached to know what it would be like if she let me in. If she gave me even a fraction of the attention she gave her work.

But she didn't. She wouldn't. And it was slowly driving me insane.

Bella's POV: 

I couldn't stop thinking about it—the way his face fell when I denied us being together. The sadness that flickered in his eyes for just a split second. Why? Why did he look like that?

He hated me, didn't he? He had always been cold, distant, even rude at times. For five years, he made it clear that I was nothing more than a colleague to him. So why that reaction? I didn't get it. It didn't make sense. I wasn't lying when I said we weren't together. It wasn't some kind of harsh rejection. It was the truth. So why did it seem to hurt him?

I replayed the moment over and over in my head. That subtle shift in his expression, the way he had to force himself to agree with me. And ever since then, he had been distant. Even more than usual.

All day, he barely said a word to me. Not the usual curt remarks or sarcastic comments. Nothing. Just silence. Cold, frustrating silence. I couldn't figure out what was going on. He wasn't acting like himself. Was he... affected by what I said? But why would he be? He hated me, right?

I mean, he's been the one pushing me away for years. Always keeping things professional, never letting anything personal slip between us. He's the one who treated me like an annoyance. So why would my simple denial get to him?

Every time I glanced at him, he was buried in his work, but there was something off. His jaw was clenched, and he avoided looking at me. The tension between us was suffocating, but it wasn't the usual tension that I had grown used to. This felt different.

I couldn't understand it. Was he actually hurt? And if he was... why did it bother me? He's been cold and distant for so long, I shouldn't care about how he feels. But something about the way he shut down today, the way he refused to interact with me... it gnawed at me.

Why do I care if he's affected? Why does it matter? He's made it perfectly clear that I don't mean anything to him. Or at least, I thought he did. Now, I'm not so sure.

All I know is that something has changed, and it's confusing the hell out of me.

But then again... there were those times when he flirted.

It wasn't often, but I remember those moments, even if I tried to brush them off. The way he would throw in a sly comment or give me that cocky smirk when he caught me off guard. Little remarks here and there that could've been taken as flirting, but I always chalked it up to nothing. Everyone flirts, right? It didn't mean he was into me.

William was like that with people sometimes—teasing, a bit playful when the mood hit him. It didn't mean anything. I mean, there were days when he couldn't stand me, and other days when he acted like we were playing some kind of unspoken game. But none of it really mattered. He still kept me at a distance, still made it clear we were nothing more than coworkers.

So those moments of flirtation? They were just... noise. Something to fill the silence. He couldn't possibly be into me. Why would he be? He spent years acting like I was beneath him, like I wasn't worth his time.

But then, why did his face drop when I denied we were together? Why did he look hurt, almost like he expected something else? It didn't fit with the version of him I knew. And the more I thought about it, the more confused I got.

People flirt all the time. It doesn't mean they actually feel anything. Right?