Twisted love

breaking the silence

Andrew’s POV
Present
Chapter 20

I didn’t expect the weight of her as I scooped her up, her drenched clothes pressing cold against my arms. She didn’t protest, didn’t move. The fight had left her entirely, and in its place was only a shattered silence. I could feel the tremble in her body as I carried her further into the apartment, each step taking us away from the storm outside but not the storm brewing within her.

Setting her down gently, I pulled a blanket around her shoulders. She sat there, unmoving, her gaze fixed somewhere distant.

“Katherine…” I murmured, kneeling down so I was at eye level with her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

The moment the words left my mouth, she broke. A sob tore through her, ragged and raw, and she buried her face in her hands. Watching her unravel, the strength she usually wore like armor stripped away, was both humbling and haunting.

I didn’t say anything. I just let her fall apart in front of me, bearing witness to the pain I knew I had played a part in, even if she didn’t know it. For a while, all that filled the room were her quiet gasps and the muffled sounds of her heartbreak, and I felt that familiar, desperate ache to protect her, to hold her together if only she’d let me.

After a while, she quieted, her breaths evening out, though her eyes were still swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked up at me, and in that moment, she was so fragile, so unlike the Katherine who had once laughed and lit up every room she walked into.

“I… I can’t believe it, Andrew. All this time… Sophie, Oliver…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, as if the words themselves were too painful to say.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I whispered, reaching out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me take care of you tonight.”

She gave a barely perceptible nod, her shoulders slumping. Without thinking, I helped her to her feet, guiding her down the hall to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the tub, steam rising to chase away the chill in the air. She stood beside me, watching the water fill, her face still pale and distant, lost in thought.

I tried not to look too long as I handed her a towel and motioned for her to take her time. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

She didn’t reply, just took the towel from my hands and offered a faint nod. I left her alone, closing the door behind me but leaving it open just a crack, listening to the soft sound of water as she settled in.

I should have left. I should have given her space. But a selfish part of me needed to be close, to be her anchor, even if it was just for this one night. So I waited just outside the door, the minutes stretching on, my mind swirling with guilt and something else—something darker, something that made me want to hold her, to make her forget everything else.

Finally, the door creaked open. She stood there in the low light, her hair damp, the blanket I had given her wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The vulnerability in her gaze nearly broke me all over again.

I stepped closer, and without thinking, I reached out, cupping her face in my hands. “Katherine… you don’t have to be alone in this.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, it felt like all the tension, all the pain, dissolved into a charged silence. Her hand found its way to my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “Andrew… I don’t want to be alone.”

There was a rawness in her words, a plea that made my heart ache. She leaned into me, her head resting against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. For a long moment, we just stood there, breathing in each other’s presence, sharing the silence that filled the space between us.