Chapter 5

The cool night air wrapped around me like a shroud as I stepped out of the library, my nerves still humming from my encounter with Darius. I took a deep breath, the crispness of the evening doing little to calm the chaos inside me. Everything felt off-kilter, my emotions teetering dangerously between anger, confusion, and something darker.

I needed to get back to my dorm. I needed sleep. And more than anything, I needed to stop thinking about—

“Viv.”

My heart stopped.

I knew that voice. Knew it so well it was like a ghost from my past, a half-forgotten memory that still had the power to make my chest ache. Slowly, I turned, my breath catching as I looked up.

Jaxon.

He stood just a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold. His hair was longer than I remembered, falling in messy waves around his face, and his eyes—those intense green eyes that had once been my everything—were dark and shadowed.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could do was stare, my heart racing wildly in my chest as a thousand questions fought for dominance.

“What the hell,” I finally managed, my voice breaking. “Jaxon?”

He flinched, his gaze flickering with something raw before he quickly masked it. “Hey, Viv.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, anger and disbelief swirling through me in a dizzying rush. “What are you—? You—you disappeared! You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t—” My voice cracked, and I shook my head fiercely, trying to hold onto my anger. “You just left, Jaxon. You left.”

“I know.” His voice was low, rough, and I could see the tension in the line of his jaw, the way his shoulders tightened. “I—”

“You know?” I spat, my chest heaving. “That’s all you have to say? After—after everything, you know?”

“I didn’t—” He broke off, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he looked away. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just didn’t give a damn.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something dark and painful—but he didn’t respond. He just stared at me, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of my face.

“Why, Jaxon?” I whispered, hating the way my voice trembled. “Why did you do it?”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. And then, slowly, he took a step closer, his expression torn.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice raw. “I didn’t want to. But I—I had to go.”

“Had to?” I repeated, my heart clenching painfully. “What does that even mean?”

He shook his head, frustration tightening his features. “I can’t—I can’t explain it, Viv. I just—”

“No.” I shook my head fiercely, backing up a step. “No, that’s not good enough. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just walk away without an explanation and then show up out of nowhere like—like nothing happened. You don’t get to—”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words sent a wave of confusion crashing through me, my chest aching with a sharp, bitter pain. Why did he sound so broken? Why did he look like he was on the verge of falling apart, like it was hurting him just to be here?

“Sorry?” I choked out, my vision blurring with sudden, unexpected tears. “Sorry isn’t—”

But before I could finish, he moved. One second he was standing a few feet away, the next he was in front of me, his hands gently gripping my shoulders. I sucked in a breath, the familiar heat of his touch sending a shock through me.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. “Please. Don’t cry. I—I can’t—”

“Then explain!” I cried, my hands clenching at my sides. “Explain why you left! Explain why you just—just—”

But he didn’t. He just stared down at me, his eyes dark and tortured, his breath ragged and uneven.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t, Viv. I—God, I want to, but I can’t.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. My throat tightened, and I stumbled back, shaking my head wildly.

“No,” I whispered fiercely. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come back and—and look at me like that and—and say you’re sorry without—without giving me a reason!”

“Viv, please—”

“Go to hell, Jaxon,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “Go to fucking hell.”

He flinched, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. And then, slowly, he stepped back, his hands falling away from my shoulders.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice raw. “I deserve that. But I—I just needed to see you. One last time.”

The words sent a jolt of panic through me, and I shook my head quickly, taking another step back. “No. No, you don’t get to do that either. What—what are you saying? That you’re just going to leave again?”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at me, his gaze filled with something so dark and painful that it made my chest ache.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And then, as he turned to leave, his gaze swept over me, lingering in a way that made my skin prickle.

He stiffened.

“Who were you with?”

The question was soft, almost gentle, but there was an edge to his voice that made my breath hitch. I blinked, caught off guard.

“What?” I whispered, my pulse skittering. “What are you—?”

“Who were you with?” he repeated, his gaze hardening, his shoulders tensing as if he were holding himself back.

My heart pounded, confusion and anger swirling together in a dizzying rush. “That’s none of your business.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. But then he just shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly. “I guess it isn’t.”

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me standing there, trembling and breathless.