Page 203 of The One
How can I possibly do this?
Chapter Seventy-Six
Mariella
Mateo loves me. I see it in his eyes every time they meet mine, feel it in his touch when our skin brushes.
Could I be selfish?
Could I hold on to him and keep this secret buried deep?
Marry him, live a happy life by his side, all while carrying the unbearable weight of my father’s betrayal?
But it wouldn’t end there, would it?
Father would demand things from me, small at first, a whisper here, a suggestion there, until I was trapped, feeding Mateo information, nudging him toward decisions that served my father’s agenda.
And then what?
No!
Woman up, Mari. Do it.
I take a slow, steadying breath and step into the room. The movement startles Mateo, and his gaze snaps to mine.
Pain. So much pain.
It’s raw, etched into every line of his face, bleeding from his eyes, and my heart shatters for him.
He holds out his arms, and I don’t hesitate. I go to him.
He pulls me into his lap, burying his face in my neck, his body trembling against mine. And then he breaks. He doesn’t hold back his tears. They’re hot, wet against my skin, soaking into my shirt, making the guilt in my chest swell unbearably.
For everything.
For being my father’s daughter. For the way he uses and manipulates people, indifferent to the destruction he leaves behind. For Mateo, who deserves so much more than this.
I wind my arms around him, holding him tighter, pouring every ounce of love I have into this embrace. I want to cocoon him, shield him from the evil pressing in on us.
We stay like this for a long time, wrapped around each other, his breathing ragged and uneven against my throat. Slowly, his sobs subside, his breathing growing steadier.
He lifts his head, and when our eyes meet, it’s like he’s laid himself bare.
Pain. Love. Hope.
And for this moment, I feel privileged to be allowed in. Because after what I’m about to tell him, I know this will end. The warmth, the trust, the way he lets me see into his soul… it will all be gone.
A lump rises in my throat, thick and suffocating. I don’t want to lose this. Losehim.
I cradle his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the lingering wetness on his cheeks. He leans into my touch like he needs it, like he’s been holding himself together by sheer force of will and I’m the only thing keeping him from shattering.
My chest aches.
I pull his face to mine and kiss him, telling him without words how much he means to me.
The moment our lips meet, something inside us breaks loose. The kiss turns desperate within seconds, frantic and deep, a collision of grief and longing. His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer, pressing me against him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I pour everything into it. All the love, all the devotion, all the silent apologies for what’s to come. Because after tonight, after the truth is out, I won’t ever get to hold him like this again.
