Chapter 64: Cracks

Esme sat on the bed, her body trembling with silent sobs. Her tear-streaked face was buried in her hands as the weight of everything seemed to collapse onto her at once. She had wanted to get out, to escape for just a while, but now, she was back here, facing Kael and everything that had been weighing on her chest for so long.

Kael stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of her, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He wasn't used to this side of Esme, the broken, vulnerable side. She had always been fiery, sharp, demanding. But this? This was something entirely different.

He didn't know how to deal with it. The girl who had given him so much trouble now sat in front of him, broken. And though a part of him wondered if he had pushed her too far, another part of him simply didn't care. This wasn't about him.

He took a step forward, trying to keep his distance. His eyes lingered on her tear-streaked face for a moment before he sighed, rubbing his temple. He wasn't going to coddle her, but he also couldn't let her sit there like that either.

Without a word, he walked over to her and squatted down in front of her. He didn't say anything at first, just reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He didn't want to admit it, but his touch, even if only for a moment, made him pause. Was he too harsh earlier? He wasn't sure, but he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that now.

"Don't cry, baby," he said, his voice strangely soft, but firm. His words were more of a command than a comfort. "Was I too harsh earlier?"

Esme sniffed, her swollen eyes looking up at him. She was still a mess, and he could tell it wasn't just the tears. Her whole demeanor was off, and that irritated him. He wasn't used to seeing her this way, wasn't used to feeling anything other than the cold indifference.

"You're crying over this? What do you expect me to do, Esme?" He sighed, stepping back slightly. "I don't have time to coddle you."

Esme looked at him, her heart racing with frustration, but before she could say anything, she felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her. Her stomach lurched, and she turned to the side just in time to throw up all over Kael's expensive shirt.

"What the actual fuck!" Kael cursed, stumbling back and looking down at his now ruined shirt. His brows furrowed in annoyance. "You're really something, Esme."

Esme kept her head low, tears still running down her face, her body shaking with the aftereffects of her vomiting. She was mortified—this was the last thing she wanted to happen. And yet, there she was, in front of him like this, feeling like an absolute fool.

Kael sighed again, the irritation evident on his face. But instead of berating her further, he took a deep breath and quickly recovered his composure. He wasn't about to let her break him down, and he wasn't about to let her sit in this filth.

"Get up," he ordered. He didn't give her a choice as he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet with ease. Esme winced at the firmness of his grip, but she didn't protest. There was no point. She knew he wasn't going to let her go until he did what he deemed necessary.

He dragged her to the bathroom, his grip tight around her wrist as he pushed open the door. Esme stumbled behind him, still dazed from the emotional turmoil.

"Sit," Kael instructed, pushing her towards the sink as he turned on the water. "Clean yourself up."

Esme didn't respond, but she felt the coldness in his tone, the lack of warmth that she had almost forgotten existed in him. She stood silently as he worked , taking a towel and running it under warm water before wiping down her face. He didn't look at her as he did it, his hands quick and efficient, but there was an edge to everything he did—an edge that reminded her who she was dealing with.

Once he was satisfied, Kael stepped back, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Get yourself together," he said. "You're making me look weak, Esme."

Esme blinked, still feeling the sting of his words. But instead of lashing out, she simply nodded, her throat tight. She didn't know why she felt so defeated, so small. She hated that he could make her feel this way without even trying.

Kael stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, before he turned to leave. "I'm not going to waste my time comforting you," he added, almost as an afterthought, before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Esme remained standing in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. She didn't recognize herself in the reflection. Was this really who she had become? Was this really how she was going to live?

She stared at her red, swollen eyes, the remnants of her tears still clinging to her cheeks. This wasn't her. This wasn't who she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

But Kael's words echoed in her mind: You're making me look weak.

She clenched her fists, anger rising within her. She was done with this. Done with him. Done with all of it.

As she took a deep breath and stared at herself in the mirror, something shifted inside her. She wasn't going to let him break her. She wasn't going to let him have that much control over her.

She would find her own way. And Kael? He could just deal with it.

****. ****. ****.