Kenan Yildiz - You Don't Always Get A Second Chance

Chp. 17

Kenan pov*

It shouldn't have bothered me. It shouldn't. It doesn't. But what business does Arda have calling her this late? It bothered me so little I blurted out a 'I love you'. again... I blame Bella. I blame her for everything. For making me feel all these things I shouldn't. For making me lose control so easily. For making me so desperate for her.

But what's bothering me right now is the fact that she hasn't said it back. I look at her, really look at her but she looks away unable to meet my eyes. My hand shoots up to her face but hesitates, hovering in the air by her chin. I force my hand to touch her gently, forcing her to look at me.

Physically fixing something isn't that hard; it usually depends on the material. Plastic? Easy. You just glue the pieces together and hope the cracks don't show. Metal? Straightforward enough, as long as you have the right tools and the patience to smooth out the jagged edges.

But glass? Glass is different. It's delicate, fragile, and once it's shattered, you can try to piece it back together, but it'll never be exactly the same. Every crack becomes a permanent scar, every missing shard a hole you can't ignore.

I realized then, with Bella almost in my arms, that we weren't plastic or metal. We were glass. Fragile, beautiful, and irreparably broken. It cut, it stinged but what were we if not glass...?

Her lips part gently as I let my thumb run over them, she's so unbelievably beautiful. I don't deserve her. Not one bit, but God let her, in my life amongst millions of woman for a reason and I would be a god damn fool to let that slip. 

"Say it back, Bell," I whisper, my voice raw, desperate. My lips find her collarbone, brushing against her skin with a gentleness that feels at odds with the storm raging inside me. I'm sinking, and I know it. But maybe if I hear those words from her—just once—it'll keep me afloat, even if they're hollow.

Her chest rises and falls beneath me, her breathing uneven as I trail my kisses lower. My lips hover over her breast, her skin warm and soft, and for a moment, I can almost believe she'll say it. That she'll let me have this, even if I don't deserve it.

But the silence stretches on, and her lack of response digs into me like a blade. I try to convince myself it's fine, that I deserve this silence, that I've earned every second of it. Then, just as I'm about to lean down to kiss her other breast, her words stop me cold.
"You should leave," she whispers, her voice barely audible, but the weight of it slams into me like a freight train. She can't be serious.

No. No, no, no.

That voice. That tone. It's quiet, but it cuts deeper than any scream could. It's the sound of her hurt, raw and unfiltered, and I know—I know—I'm the one who put it there. I want to scoop her up in my arms protecting her from this cruel world. From me. I would fight against her struggles, until she gives in and lets her emotions spill into my chest, seeping into my heart.

I freeze, my forehead resting against her chest as my breath catches. The ache in her voice twists something inside me, something I can't ignore no matter how much I want to. I can't deny it any longer. I still care for her. I still love her. In fact, I never stopped loving her.

"Bella," I rasp, but I can't bring myself to say more. What could I say? That I'm sorry? That I never meant to hurt her? That I love her? None of it feels like enough. Even then I've already used all those options. But they where never sincere. But now...

Her hands come up, not to pull me closer but to push me back—gently, hesitantly, like she can't decide if she really wants me to go. Just pull me in Bella, please. But she doesn't. Doesn't even bother looking at me. Her gaze is fixed somewhere else, somewhere far away, and it kills me that I'm not part of whatever place she's gone to.