<b>Chapter 153 </b>


    Nivera’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide.”


    “I’ve been a bastard to you,” he admitted, each word sounding heavier than thest. “I’ve treated you like you don’t matter. Like you’re disposable Because it was easier than admitting I didn’t know what to do with you, Easier than admitting you got under my skin. I was a jerk. I belittled you. I <b>hurt </b>you and that… wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve it.”


    Nivera froze, her lips parting as her heart skipped a beat. She searched his face, half–expecting mockery, but there was none. His eyes–dark, sharp–held nothing but quiet sincerity.


    “I’m sorry,” he said, the words quiet but earnest. “For every time I made you feel less than you are. For being a jerk when all you did was try


    Her chest ached. For a terrifying second, she wanted to believe him. To fall into the softness she saw in him now. But the memory of the pain–his cruelty. his coldness–rose like a shield.


    She shook her head, her voice barely steady. “Don’t. Don’t say that. I can’t…”


    He tilted his head. “Can’t what?”


    “Can’t go through this again,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes though she refused to let them fall. “You don’t get to apologize and expect me to just forget,” she said, her voice shaking with both anger and the ache of restraint.


    “Do you know how much it hurt? Every time you pushed me away, every time you made me feel like I was worthless? I won’t do <b>it </b>again. I won’t.”


    Her throat burned–not from bile this time, but from tears she refused to let fall.You don’t get to break me twice.”


    He flinched, the words slicing deeper than any de.


    Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I’ll y whatever role you want,” she went on, forcing steel into her tone. “Girlfriend, decoration, puppet- whatever. But I don’t want to share a roof with you anymore. I don’t want to breathe the same air if it means feeling like this again.”


    The dull ache in his chest sharpened into something he couldn’t ignore.


    Once, he would have threatened her for such defiance, pinned her down with words or worse until she submitted. But now… he couldn’t bring himself <ol><li>to. </li></ol>


    He only looked at her, the silence between them heavy with what he didn’t know how to say. Finally, his voice broke through.


    Her head jerked up, shock shing in her eyes. She had braced for fury, for a cold threat. Not this.


    “You’re not…you’re not going to force me?”


    “No.” His answer was simple but firm.


    “I–I’ll figure it out,” she said quickly, too defensive.


    He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “You’re not staying on the streets.”


    “I’m not taking another ce from you,” she shot back. “I don’t want anything that ties me back to you.”


    His lips curved bitterly. “You’d rather starve than ept anything from me?”


    “Yes,” she said firmly, though her voice cracked at the edges.


    That cracked something inside him. He turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really hate me that much.”


    She did, she had told him she loved him while she was drunk. That was the truth, he told himself over and over again.


    However, there was another truth he couldn’t ignore and that was the fact that she was trying to get over him. Her moving out way the first step in drong


    Her heart twisted, but she forced herself to stand tall. “No,” she whispered. “That’s the problem. I don’t.”


    The silence between them grew thick, heavy, unbearable.


    Atst, he turned back, his expression hard but his voice gentler than ever. “Fine. I’ll let you go. But not until you find somewhere secure. Somewhere safe. I won’t let you walk into danger.”


    Her throat closed, her heart aching at the unexpected gentleness. It was easier when he was cruel. Easier when she could hate him. But this… this was unbearable.


    She turned away, blinking hard. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to thank you.”


    He said nothing, only nodded once. The hollow ache in his chest deepened, settling like a weight he couldn’t shake.


    He had found her and he was about to lose her again.


    “Come on, let’s go home,” he said quietly.


    “Your home, not mine,” she corrected.


    He sighed but didn’t say anything.


    She hesitated, staring at his hand, then at his face. For a long moment, she thought of refusing. But her body was still weak, her head still heavy.


    With a small, reluctant breath, she slipped her hand into his.


    They left Marceline’s house together in silence, each step echoing with the things they could not say.


    For Alejandro, the realization that he had ruined something fragile before it could even bloom.


    For Nivera, the agony of knowing her heart ached for the very man she needed to guard it from.


    And between them, the unspoken truth lingered–an invisible chain binding them, even as they walked further apart.


    AD