CHAPTER 34 – ADRIAN'S FAREWELL
I couldn't believe my own optimism as I walked toward the café where Auri had agreed to meet me. Her message had been simple, almost casual: "Let's talk. I'll meet you here at three." But my heart had been racing ever since.
I had rehearsed the conversation a hundred times in my head—how I would charm her, make her see me, make her stay. After all, I had been persistent for a reason. I cared about her. More than I probably should. More than anyone else possibly could.
When I arrived, she was already there, sitting at a corner table, arms folded lightly over her chest. Her expression was calm, almost unreadable—but I knew better. I knew she had that look when she had something important to say.
I forced a smile, sliding into the seat across from her. "Auri," I said, keeping my tone light. "It's good to see you."
She nodded, eyes meeting mine. There was a seriousness there, one that immediately set my stomach in knots. "Adrian… thank you for meeting me," she began softly.
"Of course," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my pulse was already hammering. "You sounded… urgent in your message. What's on your mind?"
She took a deep breath, and my heart sank. I had a feeling I already knew.
"Adrian… I… I need to be honest with you," she said, her hands fidgeting slightly on the table. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, every kind gesture, every moment you've cared… but I can't… I can't let you court me anymore."
I froze. "You… can't?" My voice betrayed more than I wanted. My chest tightened, and for a moment I thought the floor might open beneath me.
She looked down, then back up at me with that steady, soft gaze I had come to love. "It's not because I don't care about you, Adrian. I do… but my heart… it's… it's already with someone else. Dante."
I felt as though someone had punched me square in the gut. Dante. The name echoed through me, twisting in my chest. She loved him. Loved Dante. My own heart clenched at the unfairness of it. But I forced myself to breathe, to stay calm. To be brave.
"I… I see," I said, voice steadier than I felt. I tried to keep a casual smile, even as memories of her flooded my mind—the first time I saw her at the resort, her laughter sparkling under the sun, the way she had looked at me with playful curiosity. Every moment since then had been etched into my memory, and now it hurt like a knife twisting in my chest.
"Adrian… I don't want you to think I don't value you. You've been… amazing," she said softly, reaching for my hand. "But my feelings… they're for Dante. And I can't deny that anymore."
I nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Every fiber of me wanted to argue, to insist, to make her change her mind. But I couldn't. Not without losing her completely. And I couldn't bear the thought of that.
She looked at me, eyes steady. "I can handle my feelings, Adrian. I know what I'm doing. I won't get hurt, and I'll be careful."
I wanted to believe her. I needed to. But the protective side of me—the side that would always care for her—couldn't help the gnawing worry that Dante might not be the right one for her, that her heart might be broken.
I sighed, trying to hold back the storm inside me. "Auri… if Dante hurts you… know that I will never stop coming back. Never. I'll be there. I will make sure… that one day, if he doesn't value you the way he should, I will."
Her hand squeezed mine lightly. "I know, Adrian. But everything will be alright. I promise."
I nodded, forcing myself to believe her, to believe that this was the right thing. I had to step back. I had to give her the space to live her life and love as she chose—even if it wasn't with me.
I finally released her hand and stood, my heart heavy. "Then… I'll keep my distance. For now."
She smiled softly, though I could see the faint flicker of sympathy in her eyes. "Thank you, Adrian."
I nodded, trying to keep my composure, but inside… I was shattered. Each step away from her felt heavier than the last. Her image, her laughter, the warmth in her eyes—everything was seared into my memory. And I knew, no matter how brave I tried to be, a part of me would never let her go completely.
As I walked away from the café, I let the memories take me—the first time I had seen her, the first conversation, every shared smile. The hope, the longing, the frustration, and the love I had felt since that day… it all hit me at once.
And deep down, I knew one thing: even though I was letting her go… I would never stop caring. Never stop remembering. And if the day came that Dante failed her, I would be there. I would always come back for her.
For now, though… I forced myself to breathe, to walk forward, to let her live her life—even if it meant living it without me.