Twisted love

Shattered Illusions

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Katherine’s POV

Chapter eighteen

Present

Rain poured outside, drumming against the windowpane in a steady, rhythmic beat that filled the room, drowning out everything but the sound of our breaths. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, the storm cloaking us in a quiet darkness that felt like a safe haven from everything that had once torn us apart. In that moment, it was as if time had slipped away, and we were no longer haunted by the past.

I was in Oliver’s arms, lost in the warmth of his embrace, wrapped up in the heady rush of feeling desired, loved, and seen. The heat between us was intense, pulling me deeper, silencing the ache that had lived in me for so long. He looked at me as though I were his entire world, as though he’d never let me go again.

I had never felt so vulnerable, so open, like everything we had endured was worth it just to be here. Every touch, every whispered word, erased the bitter memories that had kept us apart. For the first time in years, I let myself believe we could be happy, that maybe we could start over.

But then, just as his lips brushed mine, a soft voice shattered the quiet.

“Hi Daddy”

My heart stopped. I froze, my breath caught in my throat, and I felt Oliver’s body tense beside me.

I pulled back, trying to make sense of the word that echoed in the darkened room, cutting through our closeness like a knife. Slowly, I turned toward the doorway, barely able to process what I was seeing.

A small girl, no older than five, stood in the doorway, looking up at us with wide, curious eyes. The soft glow from the hallway cast her in a warm light, and for a brief, confusing moment, I felt as if I were seeing a ghost. She had dark, curly hair, damp from the rain, and a tiny voice that trembled with innocence.

It wasn’t just her appearance that took my breath away—it was her eyes. They were unmistakably his, the same shade of blue that once made my heart race, the same eyes that I had fallen so deeply in love with years ago.

A tightness gripped my chest, an ache that was both familiar and foreign. In an instant, a thousand unspoken dreams crashed into me: a life we could have had, a child I had never met but always imagined.

My vision blurred as I stared at the little girl, feeling the weight of her gaze. She was looking at Oliver, eyes wide with confusion and familiarity, as if searching for answers. A strange, twisting sensation unfurled within me—pain mixed with something deeper, something impossible to put into words.

And then, as if summoned by my own pain, another figure appeared behind her.

Sophie.

My heart plummeted as I took in the sight of my best friend standing there, her hand gently resting on the little girl’s shoulder. Sophie’s expression was a mix of surprise and something else—something I couldn’t quite place. Betrayal, guilt, or perhaps relief that the truth was finally in the open.

The room began to spin as the realization set in, piece by painful piece. Sophie. My best friend, the person I trusted most in the world, had been with him. All the moments I’d pushed aside as nothing more than jealousy or friendly teasing suddenly took on a sharper meaning. Every lingering look she’d given him, every quiet remark about how we weren’t right for each other, every uncomfortable silence when I’d confided in her about him—it all made sense now.

The signs were there all along. I had been too blind to see them.

I looked from Sophie to Oliver, my vision clouded by tears I refused to let fall. A sickening feeling took root, spreading through my chest, a dull and relentless ache.