What We Left in the Dark

Thirty Six

My eyes flutter open, the warm morning light softly filtering into the loft bedroom. For a brief moment, everything feels calm—serene, even. The golden sunlight spills across the room, casting a peaceful glow. But when I try to stretch, I feel the weight of something—or rather, someone—restraining me. Panic sets in instantly, my heart racing as my mind leaps to the worst possibilities.

My body stiffens as I carefully turn my head to see who spent the night next to me. Relief and anxiety mix when I see Gian, his face relaxed in sleep, his arms loosely draped around my waist. He looks so different like this—almost boyish, stripped of the hardened exterior he usually wears. For a split second, I'm tempted to stay still, to remain in this intimate cocoon where things between us could be simple.

But nothing about our lives is simple anymore.

The memories of last night flood back, crushing me with sudden clarity. The chaos, the gunshots, the blood on Gian's clothes—it all rushes back, stirring deep unease in my chest. My breath hitches, and as if sensing my discomfort, Gian stirs beside me, his grip tightening slightly before his eyes blink open.

"Morning," he mutters groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

I can't help the way my body tenses under his arm. I'm not ready for this—not ready to face him, not ready to confront the whirlwind of emotions crashing through me. I clear my throat, trying to mask the conflict that's building inside.

"Morning," I respond, my voice softer than I intend.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Gian's gaze lingers on my face, searching for something, though I'm not sure what. I want to pull away, to create some distance between us, but I can't bring myself to do it. Despite everything—the violence, the lies, the fear—there's still a part of me that longs for the version of Gian I once loved.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep here," he says finally, breaking the silence. He withdraws his arm, pulling back slightly to give me space, though his eyes stay fixed on me.

I sit up slowly, running a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's fine," I say, though I'm not sure if it really is. Nothing feels fine anymore.

Gian sits up too, the bed creaking under his weight as he swings his legs over the side. His back is to me now, his head hanging low as if he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I can feel the tension radiating from him, see the way his fists clench as he stares at the floor.

"I never wanted you to be dragged into this mess, Cat," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "I hate that you're caught in the middle of it."

I exhale, trying to find the right words. "But I am in it, Gian. I've been in it for a while now, whether you wanted me to be or not."

He turns to look at me, his expression raw with guilt. "I don't know how to make it right," he admits. "Every time I try to protect you, it seems like I just make things worse."

Shaking my head, frustration builds inside me. "You can't protect me from everything. And you definitely can't protect me by hiding things from me. I need to know what's going on—really know."

Gian stands up, running a hand through his messy hair as he starts pacing the room. "It's not that simple. There are things I'm dealing with, things I've done... You wouldn't understand, Cat."

I stand too, refusing to let him brush me off. "Try me," I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Stop assuming I can't handle the truth."

He stops pacing and faces me, his eyes dark and serious. "You don't want to know the things I've done," he says, barely controlling his voice. "You don't want to see that side of me."

My heart aches at his words, but I step closer, locking my gaze on his. "I already have, Gian. Last night... the gun... I saw it."

Gian's face tightens, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "That wasn't meant for you to see. None of this was."

"But I did see it," I press, my voice soft but resolute. "And it scared me. Not just because of the danger, but because it's you. Because I never imagined you like that."

He looks away, his jaw clenching as he struggles for words. "I'm not the same man you knew," he admits. "I've done things I can't take back. Things that... that would change the way you look at me forever."

My chest tightens. Part of me wants to turn away, to retreat from the darkness in his words. But I hold my ground. "Maybe it would," I say quietly. "But I'm not asking for perfection, Gian. I'm just asking for honesty."

The silence between us is heavy, charged with our shared history and the unspoken truths hanging in the air. Gian finally meets my gaze again, his eyes filled with a deep, aching sadness.

"I've killed, Cat," he confesses, the words falling like a hammer. "And I didn't do it out of necessity. I did it because I wanted to. Because I needed to feel in control."

I feel my breath catch in my throat. I knew Gian had changed—that the man standing in front of me wasn't the same person I had once loved. But hearing him admit it so plainly, so brutally, shatters something inside me.

"I'm not proud of it," he continues, his voice raw. "I hate that I've become this person. But I did it for us. To keep you safe."

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. "You did it for you, Gian. Don't try to blame this on me."

He steps toward me, his expression pained. "I never wanted you to be a part of this world, Cat. But now that you are, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means losing you."

His words hang in the air, heavy and final. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Gian nods, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. "I wouldn't ask you to."

We stand there in silence, the weight of everything we've lost pressing down on us.