Page 40 of I Do, You Don't
“You need to stop,” I say, softer now, less fury, more fatigue. “You’ve been running from yourself for so long, hiding behind me, behind whatever story you’ve been telling yourself. But you can’t keep dragging people into your mess.”
Delilah shakes her head, tears spilling freely. “I’ve been running, I know. I’ve always been running. But I don’t know how to stop.” Her voice barely rises above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
I step closer, chest tight. “Once, I would’ve begged you to open up to me. I would’ve fought for you. But not anymore. Not after everything. Our friendship is over, Delilah. You ruined my wedding. You destroyed my trust.”
She flinches, breath hitching. “I didn’t mean to destroy anything,” she says, voice trembling. “I just wanted—”
I cut her off. “Calvin’s done with you.”
She freezes. Her lips part, but no sound comes. Panic blooms behind her eyes; her body stiffens like she’s bracing for impact.
“He told me himself,” I press. “He doesn’t want anything to do with you. Not after what you did. Not after the lies.”
Delilah’s face twists—not just with hurt, but with something darker. “I don’t care what Calvin claims to know,” she snaps, her voice rising. “He’s not my brother. My mother is a liar.”
I blink, rattled by the venom in her voice. “What are you talking about?”
She shakes her head, eyes wild. “You think you know everything, Gideon? You don’t. You never asked. You just believed whatever made you feel righteous. Calvin doesn’t know the truth. None of you do.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes. Because she’s right. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to. I wanted a villain, and she fit the part.
“No,” I say, slower now. “But you used it. You used Calvin to manipulate me. You turned pain into a weapon.”
Her tears spill, but I don’t move. I don’t comfort her. I let the silence stretch, and it’s not righteous anymore. It’s heavy. Complicated.
“You need help, Delilah,” I say quietly. “Not from me. Not from Calvin. From someone who can help you face the truth, whatever it is.”
She shakes her head, trembling. “I don’t know how.”
“That’s not my problem anymore.”
She looks at me with such a raw mix of sadness and guilt it almost hurts to see her this way. “Please,” she says, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me like this.”
I feel the weight of her words, and this time, they change something. Not the outcome—just the way I see it.
“You have to face whatever you’re running from, Delilah,” I say. “And you have to do it without me.”
I turn and walk away without looking back, leaving her standing there, broken, alone. It feels like closure, but there’s no relief. No satisfaction in the finality. Only emptiness.
Because I didn’t just lose Lara.
I chose to lose her.
I chose Delilah’s word over the love of my life. I chose silence over truth. And now I see how deep that choice is.
I move down the street, my steps slow, deliberate, the weight of the conversation sinking into my bones. Delilah’s tears still haunt me. But it isn’t just her wreckage I’m leaving behind.
It’s mine.
Chapter 16
Gideon
The apartment is quiet because I made it that way. I’ve since abandoned the master bedroom and moved into the spare. The master reminds me too much of her; it’s too painful. Here, I’ve set up an office with my father’s old accounting desk. It’s a heavy block of mahogany that smells of lemon polish and time. There’s no comfortable quiet, no shared silence, just the constant hum of profound emptiness. It’s a new post-Lara life. A profound emptiness.
I have to fix this, not just for me, but for her. For the way her voice thinned when she told me about the wedding dress, a plea I ignored. For the way her eyes shuttered when I defended Delilah’s presence at my bachelor party, a betrayal I didn’t even see. These are debts I don’t know how to pay. The words “I’m sorry” feel small and cheap against the weight of that failure. It’s embarrassing to realize that only a few days ago, I truly thought an apology and a bouquet of flowers would be enough to win her back. It wasn’t until I processed what I did that I realized the true pain I’ve caused. I didn’t just ruin our wedding day,I ruined us.
It wasn’t until I witnessed Delilah’s true character firsthand, and the way she embraced her long-lost brother, that I understood she no longer needed me. I can’t erase those moments, but I can start by focusing on what I can do. I can support the dream I never listened to. She’s building a financial consulting business for women. I’m going to be the supporter I should have been all along. The man who saw her passion as a “side project” is gone. The man I am now will fight for it, even if it’s from the shadows.
