Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 133

Chapter120

“I’m moving to Montana,” she blurted out, as if she was hesitant to share this news with me, unsure of how I would react.

And yet, she had chosen to tell me, to share this significant life change with me, despite having no obligation to do so. The fact that she had bothered to inform me at all was a mercy.

My heart, which had tentatively emerged from the dark abyss of despair, retreated back into the shadows, shrinking away from the faint light of hope that Karissa’s presence had kindled. The thought of her leaving, of her returning to Montana and potentially falling into the arms of Deckard, was a searing agony that thundered through my whole body.

I felt a primal scream building in my chest, a desperate cry of protest and possessiveness, but I knew I had no right to utter it. I had forfeited that right when I had hurt her, when I had broken her trust and shattered our bond. All I could do now was silently endure the torment of losing her, of knowing that she would soon be gone, and that I would be left behind, forever trapped in this darkness.

“It’s great news, you’ll be happy there,” I managed to say, forcing a tone of genuine enthusiasm, even as the words felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I wanted to be happy for her, I truly did, but the pain of knowing I would be losing her, that she would be moving on with her life without me, was almost too much to bear. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the ache, to be selfless, to let her go, but it was a struggle to keep my emotions in check.

“Yeah,” she nodded as she let out a soft sigh and looked away, her gaze drifting off into the distance. The movement was a subtle one, she was disconnecting, withdrawing from me, and I couldn’t blame her.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked skeptical of her reaction, she inched closer and nodded in agreement.

“Do you think the love I had for you was a lie?” I feared that she might think that everything we had shared, every laugh, every tear, every whispered promise, was nothing more than a deceitful fantasy, a manipulation. The thought was suffocating, and I held my breath, waiting for her response, my heart suspended in a state of agonized uncertainty.

She shook her head. “Now that my mind is clearing from the fog of pain,” she began, “I don’t think your love was a lie, Keith.” “You just didn’t love me the way I wanted, the way I deserved. The words were heavy on her tongue, with saddening resignation.

I heaved a sigh of relief, the honesty of her words settling upon me like an affective medicine. Amidst the ruins of our relationship, one thing remained standing, my love for her. And in that moment, I knew it was still true – I loved her, desperately, hopelessly. The urge to leap out of bed, to drop to my knees, and beg her to give me another chance was undeniable.

“Do you?” I began to ask, if she still loved me somewhere in the darkest, furthest corner of her mind, if there was a quark of it left. “I truly loved you, Keith. I was so in love with you,” she expressed, the words spilling out like an uncontainable sentiment

As she spoke, her hands hesitated, then came to rest on mine, a gentle, fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. I stared at our joined hands, my eyes drinking in the sight of her skin against mine, knowing that this might be the last time I ever felt her touch.

I wanted to plead with her to stay, to forgive me, to take me back. But I knew I couldn’t be that selfish. I couldn’t make this about my own desires, my own needs. I had to think of her, of what she wanted, of what she deserved. And so, I remained still, frozen in longing and restraint, as I gazed at her.

“If I’d been upfront with you, if I’d sat down and spilled my guts about everything that was messing with my head,” I asked, the words tumbling out in a ragged, uneven rhythm, “would you have given me another chance?” I pressed, my voice cracking, as I strained to get the words out, to ask the question that had been haunting me.

It was a painful task to form huge sentences, to force the words past the lump in my throat, but I was determined to ask, to know, understand. If this was the last time I would ever talk to her, I was willing to push through the pain, to exhaust myself, to ask the question that might finally give me some measure of peace.

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don’t know, Keith,” she breathes, “but I would’ve appreciated your honesty, and maybe, just maybe, we could’ve worked our way back together.” She paused, and I knew exactly why she didn’t want to bring up the elephant in the room, the shameful mistake I’d made that had torn us apart.

But I could see the pain flickering in her eyes. She took a deep breath, and brushed it off, her voice firm but driven with vulnerability. “Let’s just leave the past in the past, okay?”

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