Falling for the Goddess

Don't Be Too Hard on Yourself

The rain fell steadily outside, its rhythmic patter matching the gray, somber sky. Sitting in the passenger seat, Sara Hart glanced at Adrian Blake worriedly.

Since uttering that single sentence, he had remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead as if lost in his thoughts. His jawline was tense, and an invisible heaviness surrounded him.

The car wound its way out of the city, heading toward the outskirts. Gradually, the buildings gave way to quiet, open roads, until they arrived at the gates of a small cemetery.

Sara hesitated, her earlier guesses now solidified. Even so, an unshakable feeling of apprehension rose within her.

Adrian stepped out first, retrieving a black umbrella from the backseat before circling to her side to open her door. Sara glanced down at her clothing, relieved to see her muted tones. She silently followed him, clutching the umbrella as they ascended the stone steps.

The cemetery was still, except for raindrops tapping against stone. The chill seeped through her coat, and she unconsciously pulled it tighter.

Adrian stopped in front of a grave at the highest point of the cemetery. Sara's gaze followed his, landing on the headstone of a woman. Her photograph was etched into the marble—a gentle smile, her features strikingly resembling Adrian's. She was beautiful.

The engraving read: Linda Davis, Beloved Daughter.

Adrian held the umbrella steady, his dark eyes fixed on the photograph. The stormy depths of his gaze revealed more than words ever could.

Sara stood quietly beside him, unwilling to disturb the moment. The rain intensified, cold wind biting at her skin. She shrank back slightly, trying to keep warm.

After what felt like an eternity, Adrian's voice broke the silence. His tone was low and distant, carrying an air of finality.

"You've paid your debt. I've repaid him for you. From now on, you're free to be Linda Davis's daughter without guilt."

His words carried a chilling detachment, but also a quiet pain. He stared at the gravestone for a moment longer before turning to Sara.

"Let's go," he said.

Sara wanted to ask questions—there were so many things she didn't understand. But she held back. If he didn't want to speak, she wouldn't force him.

As they descended the slippery steps, Adrian held her hand tightly. His grip was firm, almost too much so, as if he were drawing strength from her. His fingers were ice-cold, his knuckles pale. Sara didn't complain, allowing him to hold onto her as if she were his anchor.

When they reached the car, she noticed his shoulder was soaked through. He tilted the umbrella toward her, exposing himself to the rain.

"You're all wet," she murmured, trying to adjust the umbrella to cover him.

Adrian glanced down at himself but dismissed it with indifference.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his gaze dropping to the red marks on her wrist from his tight grip.

Sara shook her head. "It doesn't hurt."

Her clear, worried eyes met his. He felt a strange, bittersweet pang in his chest.

Once inside the car, Adrian turned up the heater. Sara reached for a tissue to dry his shoulder, but he caught her hand before she could.

She froze, looking at him in surprise.

Adrian leaned back against the seat, his voice quiet and hoarse. "It was raining like this the day she died."

Sara's heart ached at his pale complexion and the distant sorrow in his voice.

Without a word, she squeezed his hand gently, a silent gesture of comfort.

"She passed away when I was five," Adrian continued, his tone tinged with bitterness and a touch of self-mockery. "My grandfather was sick, and the medical bills piled up. She did everything she could to marry into the Blake family."

Sara remained silent, listening intently.

"She had me. For a few years, I thought we were happy. But when I was four or five, she reconnected with her first love. She divorced my father to be with him."

Sara's breath hitched.

"They were planning to leave North Capital together. But on a day just like this, with the rain pouring down, they got into a car accident. Neither of them survived."

His tone was laced with a deep, cutting sadness.

"People say it was her karma. She married for money, left for love, and died because of it. Perhaps they're right—perhaps she deserved it."

Adrian's self-deprecating laugh was tinged with despair. "Her death brought silence to the Blake family, but it left a scar that never healed."

Sara finally understood why his relationship with his father was so fractured.

"When she left, my father... he hated me. I reminded him of her betrayal, of his humiliation. He drank, and when he came home, he took it out on me."

Sara's hand tightened on his. Her heart broke at the matter-of-fact way he spoke, as though he had long since grown numb to the pain.

"If it weren't for my grandmother, who took me in, I might not have survived."

The abuse, the neglect, the shame—Adrian had carried it all silently.

"She betrayed us, but she was still my mother. I hate her for leaving, but I can't deny the part of me that loved her."

Adrian's voice faltered, his emotions threatening to spill over.

"For years, I've lived as her penance. I've worked hard, earned accolades, and dedicated myself to the Blake family. But no matter what I do, I'm still reminded of her betrayal. My very existence is a mistake."

He exhaled shakily. "Maybe my father was right. Maybe disappearing is the best choice."

Sara's chest ached. She turned to face him, placing her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

"This isn't your fault," she said firmly, her voice unwavering.

Adrian's eyes widened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask.

"It was never your fault," Sara repeated, her gaze steady and kind. "Your mother made choices—some good, some bad. But you? You've done nothing wrong."

She stroked his cheek gently, her voice softening. "She was someone's daughter before she was your mother. She made sacrifices, chased her dreams, and ultimately paid the price. But that's her story—not yours."

Adrian's throat tightened, his vision blurring slightly. "Then why didn't she take me with her?"

Sara's heart twisted. She leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his eye.

"Maybe she thought you'd have a better life in the Blake family. Maybe she didn't want you to suffer with her. Or maybe... she didn't know how to be both a mother and herself."

Sara sighed. "I can't say what she was thinking, but I know this: You didn't deserve any of it. You're not her mistake. You're not anyone's mistake."

Her words washed over him like a balm, soothing the cracks in his heart.

"Adrian," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You're allowed to let go of the past."

Her quiet strength pierced through the fog of his despair, and for the first time in years, Adrian felt a glimmer of light breaking through the darkness.