Twisted love

A new beginning

(Andrew's POV, Flashback)

chapter eight

I stood at the doorway, watching her. Katherine. Her silhouette framed by the soft light streaming in through the blinds, casting a glow that made her look even more fragile than she already was. She had one suitcase in her hand, barely holding on to the handle as if she were ready to drop it at any second.

"Welcome home," I said, my voice more steady than I felt inside.

She glanced at me, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles, but it didn't reach her eyes. She'd lost that light—that brightness I'd always admired from a distance. And knowing what I did, I wasn't sure it would ever come back.

"Thanks, Andrew." Her voice was soft, almost as if it took effort just to speak. "I really don't know how to repay you for this."

My throat tightened. Repay me? If only she knew. I shook my head quickly. "You don't have to. I'm just glad you're here."

I reached for her suitcase, and when our hands brushed, something sparked. It was small, just the touch of her skin against mine, but it sent a ripple through me. I ignored it, or at least I tried to, as I took the suitcase from her hand. This wasn't about me—couldn't be about me. Not now.

She wandered into the apartment, her movements hesitant. This place had been mine for so long, but with her standing here, it felt... different. Like it wasn't mine anymore. I had made sure the guest room was ready, the blankets soft, the space cozy—but I knew none of it would feel like home to her. Not after everything she'd been through.

I watched her unpack in silence, my mind drifting back to the girl I'd fallen in love with years ago. Back then, she didn't know I existed. Hell, she still doesn't really know, not in the way I want her to. But that's fine. I'm not in this for myself.

I cleared my throat. "If you need anything, just ask. No pressure."

She looked at me then, a bit surprised, like she wasn't used to someone offering help without wanting something in return. I hated that she felt like that. I hated that Oliver had done this to her. But even more, I hated myself for my part in it. For staying silent all these years. For not telling her the truth.

"Thanks," she said again, softer this time.

---

Night came too quickly. Katherine had retreated to her room, but I could tell sleep didn't come easily for her. The sound of shifting in the bed, the soft creak of the floor as she moved around. I sat on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV, but my mind was anywhere but there.

It wasn't long before she emerged, her footsteps light as she padded across the living room, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

She shook her head, sitting down next to me, though not too close. "Nightmares. They're... hard to shake."

My chest tightened. "Wanna talk about it?"

For a long moment, she didn't say anything, and I thought she'd shut me out. But then, her voice broke through the silence. "It's the same every night. The video... the looks people gave me. And then the text... I just keep wondering, how could someone be so cruel?"

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. If only she knew. If only she knew the truth, how close I was to all of it.

"Katherine..." I began, but my voice trailed off. What was I supposed to say? That the person who caused her so much pain was sitting right beside her, pretending to be her friend? No. Not now. Maybe not ever.