Twisted love

Confessions and Consequences

Chapter Twenty-two
Present
Katherine’s POV

That night with Andrew felt like stepping out of a storm and into calm waters. For a few precious hours, I let myself fall into his arms, savoring the warmth, the quiet strength, the way he looked at me like he could see all the fractured parts of me and didn’t mind holding them together. Each kiss, every touch, was gentle but reassuring, reminding me that maybe I wasn’t as broken as I thought. In his presence, I felt safe, like I could let my guard down, if only for a moment. I allowed myself to believe, just for that night, that maybe I could start to heal.

But now, facing Oliver again, all of it slipped away, leaving nothing but that familiar ache. Seeing him so soon after finding comfort with Andrew—it felt like a cruel reminder of how trapped I was in this endless cycle of pain and confusion. The back and forth, the years of longing and betrayal, the fragile hope and crushing disappointment. I was exhausted, caught in a loop that kept dragging me back just when I thought I’d finally found a way out.

I was so tired of it all.

I steadied myself, looking at Oliver with a mixture of anger and vulnerability as the weight of the past crashed down on me. He sat there, eyes downcast, like he was expecting another rejection, but he needed to hear this truth—the full depth of the hurt he’d caused me. I took a breath, steeling myself before I finally spoke.

“You hurt me too much, Oliver. You broke me.” My voice was a trembling whisper, but it was enough to make him look up, his face stricken.

He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him a chance. “All these years… you never told me you had a daughter with Sophie, my best friend. The man who told me to kill my unborn baby went and had a child with her.” My words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t stop. “Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea of the pain you caused?”

Oliver flinched as if I’d slapped him. He looked at me, visibly shaken, but he didn’t respond. I continued, my anger flaring to life with every word. “You told me to end my pregnancy—to just get rid of our child—and then I lost them. I lost our baby, Oliver. And while I was alone, in pain, suffering from that loss, you were moving on. You didn’t even care.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. Then he slowly stood, staring at me in utter disbelief. “What… what do you mean, you lost the baby?” His voice was barely a whisper, his face drained of color. “Katherine, what pregnancy? What miscarriage?”

I stared back, feeling the heat of anger rise again. “Stop acting like you don’t know,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “You’re the one who sent that message. You told me you wanted nothing to do with me or the baby. I… I have your words engraved in my mind.”

His expression shifted, confusion and desperation mingling together. “Katherine, I never sent any message. I swear to you, I never said that. I would never tell you to—” His voice cracked, and he looked at me, searching my face as if hoping to find some sign of forgiveness.

I shook my head, bitterness creeping in. “And I’m supposed to believe that? After everything, you want me to believe you never sent that?”

He looked at me, eyes wide and pleading, then, to my utter disbelief, he sank to his knees in front of me. “Katherine, I swear on everything, I never wanted to hurt you like that. I never told you to end our baby’s life I didnt even know you were pregnant … I would never…” His voice broke, and I saw the tears in his eyes. “Please, believe me.”

For a moment, I stood there, speechless. I’d never seen Oliver like this—on his knees, crying, begging. The sight shook me to my core, and despite my anger, a wave of compassion washed over me. I couldn’t ignore the raw pain etched on his face. Slowly, I reached down, helping him to his feet, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine as he steadied himself.

“Then who?” I asked softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. “If you didn’t send that message… then who did?”

I watched his face harden as he processed my words. His confusion shifted, and a fierce rage flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, his tone colder now, each word taut with barely controlled fury. “But I’m going to find out.”

Without another word, Oliver stormed past me, his shoulders tense and his jaw set in determination. I felt my heart pound as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, throwing one last glance back at me—a mixture of anguish and promise in his gaze. And then he was gone, leaving me alone, standing in the center of the room, surrounded by the echoes of a past I thought I’d buried long ago but tht wasn't the end. There was no way I'd be left in the dark again...not anymore. If he was going to get the answers,  I'd be dammed if I were to just stay here doing nothing. I was determined to uncover the truth, so I grabbed the keys to my car and followed him and I was even more shocked to see the house he pulled up to.