Twisted love

choices

present

chapter sixteen
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(Katherine)

The silence of my apartment was almost oppressive, but I couldn't bring myself to turn on any music or even the TV for distraction. I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, my mind whirling in circles. Memories of my date with Andrew danced through my head—the warmth of his hand on mine, the look of quiet contentment on his face as we talked. Yet, just as I'd drifted into thoughts of him, Oliver's face would appear in my mind, shadowed with regret, pulling me back to a time when I'd thought he was everything I wanted.

My thoughts tangled like thread. How did I even get here? I let out a slow, shaky breath, remembering every moment from last night—the way Andrew had planned everything with such careful thought. From the soft, aesthetic ambience of the picnic he'd planned to the handwritten note he'd tucked into the dessert menu that made me laugh, Andrew had shown a side of himself that I hadn't fully seen before.

He'd made me feel... cherished. I couldn't deny that. And after everything I'd been through, feeling cherished was something I'd been starved of. I closed my eyes, recalling how he'd gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture so simple but so intimate. Maybe, I thought, maybe this is what I need now. Someone who can give me peace, someone who's here without any history of broken promises.

But as I thought that, Oliver's face drifted back into my mind like an unwelcome visitor. I bit my lip, hating how a single memory of him could still pull at my heart. Why couldn't I let him go? He had been the one to break us, the one to walk away. But I couldn't ignore the raw, magnetic pull he still had on me. The time we spent together felt like some unexplainable magic—something that was thrilling and dangerous all at once.

Was that what I wanted?

Andrew was stable, solid, and safe. Oliver, though—he was like fire, bright and unpredictable. And I'd been burned before, left picking up the pieces, wondering if he'd ever felt the same pain. Yet, despite everything, I couldn't help but remember the good. I remembered late nights on his couch, laughing about the dumbest things, the way he'd pull me close with that playful glint in his eyes. He had a way of making me feel alive. Even now, after everything, my heart couldn't fully give him up. Why was I so tied to someone who broke me?

I got up, my hands restless, and wandered over to the window. I needed air—anything to break through the tension squeezing at my chest. The evening sky was painted in shades of blue and violet, and it reminded me of one night with Oliver. We had been watching the sunset at the pier, his arm draped over my shoulders. I'd felt so secure, wrapped in his warmth, feeling as though nothing in the world could touch us. But that night was a lie, wasn't it? Because soon after, he'd left, and I'd been the one left in the cold, clinging to memories that didn't mean the same thing to him.

A part of me knew it would be easy to let him go, to erase the hurt by stepping into something new with Andrew. Andrew could give me that—a fresh start, untouched by betrayal. I felt my heart tug in that direction, feeling the possibility of a life that was simpler, a love that was steady. Andrew's eyes, filled with quiet devotion, surfaced in my mind. Last night, he had looked at me with something unspoken, something that felt like admiration, but also a kind of longing that went beyond words.

Could I really walk away from that?

But I still couldn't shake Oliver. I hated that he had this hold on me, yet I couldn't deny that part of me still believed he was sorry. I couldn't ignore that part of him that seemed haunted when he saw me—like he was carrying just as much regret as I was.

I closed my eyes, reliving our confrontation, the hurt and confusion in his voice when he'd seen me with Andrew. The way he'd stared at me, as though he'd lost something irreplaceable, stirred something deep within me. How could he feel like that after everything he put me through? It made me wonder—was he really the villain in my story, or was there more that I hadn't allowed myself to see?

Suddenly, the choice didn't feel so simple. There was no clear answer. If I chose Andrew, I would be choosing a man who had stood by me, someone who made me feel like I was enough, just as I was. But if I chose Oliver, I'd be choosing the possibility of rekindling a love that had once meant everything to me, but with the risk of being hurt all over again.

My phone buzzed, startling me from my thoughts. It was a message from Oliver, simple and to the point: Can we talk?

My heart hammered in my chest. Just three words, and they had the power to unravel everything I thought I'd decided. I had been so close to making up my mind, to choosing a life where I wasn't constantly torn between the past and the future. But Oliver, as always, had a way of dragging me back into the storm.

I set the phone down, wrestling with my thoughts. What did I truly want? Both men offered something I craved—Andrew, with his stability and warmth, and Oliver, with his passion and the shared history that couldn't simply be erased. One choice felt like a promise of peace, while the other was a dive into the unknown.

For a long while, I just stood there, staring at the darkening sky, feeling as though I was standing on the edge of something monumental. Finally, I reached for my coat and keys, knowing that tonight I'd have to face the storm within me, once and for all.