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Chapter 49.

NORMAN POV.

That evening, after the meeting, the house felt heavier than usual. Voices had gone quiet, footsteps faded, but the tension lingered in the air like smoke. I carried a glass of whiskey to the balcony, needing the silence more than I needed the drink.

The city lights stretched out beyond me, blurred by the thoughts I didn’t want to have. My mind wandered back—back to that night with Genevieve. The night I should have stopped, the night I should have known better. I lifted the glass, let the burn of liquor sting my throat, and frowned at myself. Regret sat deeper than the alcohol ever could.

I didn’t hear her at first, only felt the shift in the air when she stepped close. Her voice followed, soft but steady.
“Now, can we talk?”

I froze, glass halfway lifted. For a moment I wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard her. But I turned, slowly, my face blank. It was easier to be expressionless than to let her see what was really inside.
“There’s nothing to talk about between us,” I said. The words came out rough, my voice already threatening to break.

She stepped closer, shaking, “Norman, I love you. God knows how much you mean to me.”

And God, I wanted to believe her. More than anything, I wanted to believe. But the shadow of him—Claide—stood between us, unspoken but impossible to ignore. My chest tightened.
“But.. You love him more,” I said quietly, bitterly. The thought of her with him carved me open all over again. Maybe I’d lied to myself thinking time would erase him from her heart. Maybe I had only set myself up for this hurt.

“You came to me that night,” I whispered, anger sliding under the words. “You knew exactly how i felt about you. Yet, you let me lower my guard down, and you knew I couldn’t come back from it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, tears threatening at the edge of her voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did anyway,” I answered coldly. The whiskey glass was still in my hand, but I no longer tasted anything. Just the hollow ache swallowing me whole. I brushed past her without looking back.

Inside, the walls closed in on me. My steps were uneven, my breathing sharp. By the time I reached my room, my throat burned with the tears I refused to let fall. I slammed my palm against the door, whispering to no one, “Fuck.”

And then, quieter, broken, the words slipped out:
“After everything… I still want her.”

The confession hung in the air, useless, raw. I let the door shut behind me, drowning in the weight of wanting someone I could never fully have.
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GENEVIEVE POV.

I stood frozen in the corridor, the echo of Norman’s words still cutting into me. "But you did anyway".

I hadn’t meant for any of it to happen — I felt guilty after that night because at some point I knew, I wasn't ready yet. But that's not an excuse to hurt him, I should've thought about him too but I was so selfish too.

And maybe he was right. Maybe I could never outrun that name, that history. Claide is pinned in and Norman… Norman had walked right into it.

Tears pressed at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back. My hands trembled against the wall as I whispered to the empty space, “But, Norman, I've fallen for you?”

But the corridor gave no answer.
Only silence, heavier than any storm.
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CLAIDE RODRIGUEZ POV.

After the meeting ended, I shoved my way outside. The walls inside pressed too tight, and I needed air. Tomorrow, the fight would begin, and I needed my head clear — or at least numb enough to get through it. I lit up, the weed steadying me, slowing the churn in my chest.