Fated Encounters

chapter 16

The days after that night passed in a blur, each one more suffocating than the last. Angela moved through the house like a ghost, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her with each step. She couldn’t keep living like this—living in the same space as Patrick, yet feeling as though she were invisible. Every morning, she’d wake with a faint hope that things might be different, but by evening, that hope would fade as Patrick’s silence remained unchanged.

He spent most of his time glued to his phone or staring blankly out the window, lost in his own world. Sometimes, Angela would catch a glimpse of him texting, his face softening slightly, and her stomach would churn with the familiar ache. She didn’t need to see the screen to know who he was talking to—Stephanie, the girl who still had a piece of his heart, the one he couldn’t let go of.

Angela tried to distract herself by keeping busy—cleaning, studying, even trying to cook dinner despite her mind being elsewhere. But one evening, as she stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables, the numbness that had enveloped her for weeks cracked. The monotony of it all, the constant emotional drain, became too much. She dropped the knife, its clatter echoing in the empty kitchen, and sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was tired of crying, tired of feeling powerless in her own life. How much longer could she live like this—pretending to be okay when everything inside her was breaking?

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the doorway. Angela wiped her eyes quickly and glanced up to see Patrick standing there, his face unreadable. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence stretching between them like a chasm.

“Angela,” Patrick said, his voice softer than it had been in weeks.

Angela’s chest tightened at the sound of her name on his lips. She glanced away, focusing on the cutting board as if it might offer her some escape from the weight of the moment. “What?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from the tears she was holding back.

Patrick stepped into the room, his posture tense as though he was unsure of how to approach her. “I’ve been thinking… about what you said the other night.”

Angela's heart gave a painful twist. “About me being a distraction?” she asked bitterly, refusing to meet his gaze.

Patrick flinched at the sharpness in her tone, but he didn’t deny it. “No,” he said quietly. “About how I’ve been acting… how I’ve been treating you.”

She felt his words tugging at the walls she had built to protect herself, but she couldn’t let them fall just yet. “And what exactly have you realized?” she asked, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Patrick moved closer, hesitating before sitting down across from her. His face was drawn, shadows under his eyes hinting at sleepless nights. “I’ve been distant. I know that. And I know it’s hurt you,” he began, his voice tight. “But I didn’t know how to deal with everything after Dad… After he died, I just—I felt like everything was slipping away, like I had no control. And I pushed you away because it was easier than dealing with all the pain.”

Angela swallowed hard, the familiar ache in her chest intensifying. She had waited so long to hear something—anything—that would explain his coldness. But now, the words felt hollow, too little too late. “You didn’t just push me away, Patrick,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Patrick’s face tightened, guilt flashing in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said finally. “I’ve been a mess. I know that. But I never meant to hurt you.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Angela felt her guard slipping, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it fall completely. Not yet.

“You did hurt me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I can’t just forget about that.”

Patrick looked down at his hands, his expression one of quiet defeat. “I know. I don’t expect you to just forgive me, not after everything. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Angela’s heart twisted at the rawness in his voice, but she couldn’t let herself be swept away by it. “I don’t know if sorry is enough, Patrick,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her hurt. “I’ve been trying so hard to be there for you, but you’ve made it clear I don’t mean anything to you.”

Patrick’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “That’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice urgent. “You do mean something to me, Angela. You mean more to me than I’ve ever let on.”

Angela blinked, her heart pounding at the unexpected admission. “Then why have you acted like I’m just in the way?”

Patrick’s gaze softened, and for the first time in weeks, she saw a flicker of the man she had fallen in love with—the one who had once made her feel like she was his whole world. “Because I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been too scared to let you in, to admit how much I need you. But I do need you, Angela. More than I’ve been willing to admit.”

Angela’s breath caught in her throat. The words she had longed to hear for so long were finally here, but they didn’t bring the comfort she had expected. Instead, they left her feeling more confused than ever.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve spent so long trying to hold on, trying to make this work, but I can’t keep tearing myself apart for someone who’s only half here.”

Patrick reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, her heart too raw to accept his touch. “I get that,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it right now. But I’m asking for a chance to show you that I can be better. That we can be better.”

Angela stared at him, her heart torn between the love she still felt for him and the pain he had caused. She wanted to believe him, to believe that they could somehow find their way back to each other. But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight.

“I don’t know, Patrick,” she said softly. “I just… I need time.”

Patrick nodded, though the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “I understand. I’ll give you all the time you need.”

And with that, the conversation came to a quiet end. They sat in the stillness of the kitchen, the space between them filled with both hope and uncertainty, knowing that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy but perhaps worth the fight.

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