8 (ignorance)

Johan POV

The meeting dragged on like a slow bleed.

I sat there, nodding at all the right moments, speaking with calculated precision, wearing the mask they all expected me to wear. Powerful. Untouchable. In control.

But inside? My pulse was a quiet war drum, pounding harder with every tick of the clock.

North’s face kept flashing in my mind.

I told him we’d meet today. I promised.

And then I broke it. Just like that. One message. Ten careless words.

I swallowed the sudden bitterness clawing at my throat as Valmont laughed at his own joke across the table. The sound grated, sharp and empty. Everything in this room felt wrong. Too polished. Too suffocating.

Finally—finally—the meeting ended. Contracts signed, hands shaken, fake smiles exchanged like currency.

The moment the door shut behind the last sponsor, I was already reaching for my phone, my composure fraying like a poorly sewn seam.

The screen lit up, and the first thing I saw was his last message, still sitting there like a ghost:

(Little brat)No problem, phi.

Short. Too short. The kind of short that hid a wound.

My throat tightened as I hit the call button, pressing the phone to my ear.

One ring.Two.Three.

“Pick up,” I muttered under my breath, my voice low, almost desperate.

Four.Five.

Voicemail.

I hung up and immediately dialed again, pacing the length of the marble floor like a caged animal. Nothing. Straight to voicemail this time.

Cold sweat prickled at the back of my neck.

Where are you?

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I strode out of the building, ignoring the valet’s startled look when I snatched the keys from his hand instead of waiting for him to pull the car around.

I had one foot inside the driver’s seat when the phone buzzed in my palm.

Relief crashed over me so hard it almost hurt.

Until I read the message:

(Little brat)

I am with my parents phi, u were busy so I decided I'll spend my time with them today.

I froze, my grip on the steering wheel tightening until my knuckles turned bone white.

With his parents.

Not alone. That should have made me feel better.

So why did it feel like my chest was caving in?

My fingers flew across the screen before I could think.

(Me)North…I’m sorry. Let’s talk, okay?

The message sent. The screen stayed silent. No typing dots. No reply.

Seconds stretched like an eternity, each one twisting deeper into my gut.

I tried again.

(Me)I’ll make it up to you. Just tell me where you are. Please.

Still nothing.

The silence was louder than any rejection.

A sharp curse tore through my teeth as I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. My reflection in the rearview mirror stared back at me—composed on the outside, but the storm in my eyes betrayed me.

Frustration burned in my veins, mingling with guilt that tasted like ash on my tongue.

How the hell did one missed date feel like this?

Because it wasn’t just a date. It was him.

And the thought that he might be pulling away—slipping through my fingers because I couldn’t get my priorities straight—was enough to send a ripple of panic through every inch of me.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t thinking like myself.

I was just a man terrified of losing someone who had no idea how much power he held over me.

I gripped the steering wheel harder, my jaw locking as I stared at the silent phone in my hand.

✿✿✿

North POV

I absentmindly played with the ring on my finger, turning it slowly, watching how the soft afternoon light glinted against the silver band. My thumb traced the smooth surface in small, absent circles, as if the motion could somehow calm the storm brewing inside my chest.

Then, my phone vibrated against the mattress.

Once.

Twice.

I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.

The name alone was enough to make my breath hitch for the briefest moment, but my fingers stayed frozen, limp against the sheets. I let the phone ring until it fell silent again, leaving a hollow ache behind that only made my chest feel tighter.

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because if I heard his voice now—deep, warm, threaded with that quiet authority that always managed to unravel me—I was afraid I’d break in ways I couldn’t mend.

So I lied.

I told him I was with my parents, spending time with them because he was busy. It sounded believable. Sweet, even. But the truth?

I was here. Alone.

Because being alone felt easier than pretending to smile in front of people who would notice the cracks in my voice.

I curled deeper into the bed, tugging the blanket closer until it draped over my shoulders like a fragile shield. The faint hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room, blending with the quiet rhythm of my shallow breaths.

But then, just as I thought I could hold myself together a little longer, the tears came again—slow and traitorous, gathering at the corners of my eyes before slipping down to my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly with the heel of my palm, almost angrily, as if erasing them could erase the ache too.

“I understand,” I whispered into the empty room, the words trembling in the air like a broken prayer.

And I did. I understood that he was busy. That the family business demanded more of him than anyone else could fathom. That his world was sharp-edged and ruthless, and I’d never wanted to be another weight on his already heavy shoulders.

For six months, I told myself I wouldn’t complain. Six months of quiet patience, of swallowing the need for more, of teaching myself to treasure the smallest crumbs of time he offered like they were entire galaxies.

Two dates.

In half a year, we’d gone on just two dates.

And I didn’t mind—or at least, I kept saying I didn’t. Because love isn’t selfish, right? Because I didn’t want him to feel trapped, didn’t want him to look at me and see a burden instead of a choice. He was still learning what it meant to love someone, to share his life with someone. I told myself that was enough.

But tonight…

Tonight, it wasn’t.

Because he promised me.

He looked at me with those steady eyes, the ones that always feel like they’re cutting right into my soul, and he said, I’m yours for the whole Saturday.

And I believed him. God, I believed him so much it hurt.

My chest squeezed as the memory replayed itself, cruel and unrelenting. That warmth in his voice, the way his lips curved into something that almost looked like softness reserved only for me. I clung to that promise like a lifeline, counting down the hours until today because I thought—no, I hoped—that maybe, just maybe, we were finally moving closer instead of drifting apart.

A choked sound broke from my throat, startling me in the quiet. My vision blurred as fresh tears welled up, heavier this time, burning hot trails down my cheeks until they fell onto the pillow beneath me.

I rolled onto my side, clutching the pillow like it could anchor me when everything else felt like it was slipping away. My fingers dug into the fabric, and I buried my face into its softness to muffle the sound of my sobs.

The scent of laundry detergent clung faintly to the cotton, familiar and safe in a way that made me ache even more.

“I hate this,” I whispered against the pillow, though the words were swallowed by the fabric before they could escape.

I hated how small I felt. How powerless. How easily one broken promise could make me unravel when I’d worked so hard to build myself into something unshakable.

But most of all… I hated how much I still loved him through all of it.

The phone buzzed again somewhere on the bed, its glow flickering against the darkness that had begun to swallow the room as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

I didn’t reach for it.

I couldn’t bring myself to.

Because if I saw his name again, I didn’t know if I’d forgive him… or forgive myself for always forgiving him too easily.

So I stayed there, curled up in the quiet, my tears soaking into the pillow as the ring on my finger pressed cold against my skin—a small, silver reminder of a promise that suddenly felt so far away.