Fated Encounters

Chapter 17

The tension between Angela and Patrick eased ever so slightly after their conversation. It wasn't perfect-far from it-but it felt like they were starting to pull themselves out of the dark hole they'd been trapped in for so long. Patrick wasn't as distant anymore. He'd started to ask her about her day, make small talk, and even offered to help with mundane things around the house. Angela took these small gestures as signs that maybe-just maybe-they could find their way back to each other.

Each day, she convinced herself that things were improving. Patrick was trying, and despite the cracks in her heart, she was willing to believe that they had a future. She wanted to believe that he meant it when he said he needed her. Maybe all the pain, the distance, the confusion would eventually give way to something better-something stronger.

But doubt still lingered at the edges of her thoughts, whispering that perhaps it was too easy to hope.

It was one afternoon, while she was tidying up the living room, that Angela noticed Patrick pacing the hallway, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His voice was low, but she caught snippets of the conversation as she moved closer, her curiosity piqued by the change in his tone.

"I'll meet you at the usual place," Patrick said, his voice urgent. "Just give me a little time."

Angela froze, her heart sinking. She recognized that tone. It was the same way he used to sound when he was talking to Stephanie-the girl who, even now, haunted their relationship like a ghost that refused to be laid to rest.

The small flicker of hope Angela had been holding onto dimmed. She stood still, her hands trembling as the realization washed over her. Patrick hadn't told her about meeting anyone. He hadn't mentioned anything, in fact, about needing to leave or make plans with someone. And now, hearing the urgency in his voice, the way he whispered into the phone, she felt the gnawing pit of doubt resurface.

Without thinking, she made a quiet decision. She wasn't going to sit by and wonder what was happening. Not this time.

As soon as Patrick left the house, Angela followed him. She kept her distance, staying just far enough behind that he wouldn't notice her. Her heart raced with every step, dread settling deeper into her chest with each block they passed. She could tell from the direction they were heading-he was going to the café they used to visit often. The one he had told her was "their spot," a place reserved for them. But now, it seemed, it was the place where he met Stephanie.

Angela's hands clenched into fists as she walked faster, careful to stay out of sight. When she reached the café, she hung back, hiding behind a nearby corner. Her eyes scanned the windows until she spotted them-Patrick sitting across from Stephanie, who looked as radiant as ever, her long hair falling perfectly over her shoulders.

They were talking, and though she couldn't hear their words, the expression on Patrick's face sent a wave of nausea through her. He was smiling-a soft, sad smile that she hadn't seen in weeks. He was listening to Stephanie like he used to listen to her, his body relaxed, his gaze attentive.

Angela's chest tightened painfully. She told herself to turn around, to leave before she saw anything that might break her further. But she couldn't move. She needed to hear what was being said. She had to know the truth.

Steeling herself, Angela edged closer, careful to stay hidden by the café's outdoor plants. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow as she listened in on their conversation.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Patrick," Stephanie's voice was soft but clear, filled with emotion. "I know you're trying to work things out with her, but I can't keep pretending that I don't love you."

Angela felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. Her pulse quickened, and for a moment, she was sure she'd misheard. But Stephanie's next words shattered any lingering hope.

"You know I love you," Stephanie said, reaching across the table to take Patrick's hand. "And I know you love me too. Don't tell me that's changed."

Angela's breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like it had been splintered into a thousand pieces. She watched as Patrick hesitated, glancing down at their joined hands. He didn't pull away. He didn't deny it.

Instead, he looked torn-conflicted in a way that made Angela's blood run cold.

"I'm trying to figure things out," Patrick muttered, his voice barely audible. "Everything's so complicated right now."

Stephanie leaned forward, her gaze intense. "It's not complicated, Patrick. You and I-we've always been meant for each other. You know that. She doesn't know you the way I do. She never will."

Angela's knees felt weak. She gripped the side of the building to steady herself, the pain of betrayal searing through her veins. How could he let Stephanie say that? How could he even entertain the idea that they were meant to be together? After everything they had been through, after all his promises-how could Patrick still be this unsure?

Tears burned in Angela's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't give in to the pain. Not now. Not when the truth was so blindingly clear in front of her. Patrick hadn't changed. He was still caught between two worlds, unable-or unwilling-to let go of the past.

And Stephanie knew it.

"I can't just walk away from her," Patrick said, his voice strained. "It's not that simple."

Stephanie's lips curved into a sad smile. "It is that simple, Patrick. You're just afraid to admit what you really want. But you can't keep lying to yourself. You don't belong with her. You belong with me."

The silence that followed was unbearable. Angela's heart pounded in her ears as she waited for Patrick's response, praying that he would deny it-that he would stand up and tell Stephanie that she was wrong. That he would defend what they had, what they were trying to rebuild.

But he didn't.

Instead, Patrick just sat there, silent, his expression torn between guilt and indecision.

Angela felt the final blow land squarely in her chest, the last vestiges of hope she'd held onto slipping away. She had heard enough. Without another glance, she turned and walked away, her steps quickening as she put distance between herself and the man she had thought she could still trust.

By the time she made it back to the house, Angela's mind was racing. Every word, every look, every gesture between Patrick and Stephanie replayed in her head on a loop. And now, no matter what Patrick said-no matter how he tried to explain it-she knew things between them could never be the same.

Patrick had made his choice.

He just hadn't said it out loud yet.

And Angela couldn't stay to hear it.