༻✦༺
Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 35
༻✦༺

2.5k words

(Y/n)'s POV

One week later

Devastation is is an ugly emotion, a heavy shroud that envelops the heart in its relentless grip. It is one of the most profound sorrows to bear, and with each passing moment it clings to the soul, it drains away any flicker of joy, leaving behind a hollow ache that feels as if life itself is on the brink of collapse.

Reflecting on my own experiences, I have faced devastation three times. The first was when my mother chose to leave me behind, the second when Clovis betrayed my trust and vanished from my life, and now, the third, with Anakin. Of all these heartaches, this latest one cuts the deepest. It feels as though I am suffocating; my appetite has dwindled to little more than a solitary piece of toast each day, and tears seem to be my constant companions.

Each time the sun streams through the window, I find myself cursing its brightness. How dare it shine so bright when I am engulfed in the shadows of my despair, mourning the loss of what I believed to be true love?

I feel utterly discarded, shattered into pieces. My heart is filled with a seething hatred for him. I loathe him for the pain he has inflicted upon me. He deceived me, exploited my vulnerabilities, and took advantage of my fragile state.

Deep down, I recognize that I should have heeded the warnings my instincts whispered, that he was too perfect to be real. Yet, in my yearning for love and happiness, I turned a blind eye to the signs that were all too clear.

I understand that time is said to be a healer, and that eventually, I will find my way back to a semblance of normalcy. That is what everyone assures me, at least. But the path to healing is a torturous one, and if I could leap ahead to the moment when the pain no longer kills me, I would do it without hesitation.

In this moment, I found myself ensnared in a web of memories, each laugh we shared, every kiss, every fleeting smile, and every deep conversation swirling around me like ghosts. I was tormented by the question of authenticity—how could I determine which moments were genuine and which were mere illusions? It was this uncertainty that stoked the fires of my anger and pain, rendering the act of forgiveness nearly impossible. How could I trust that the moments he claimed were real truly held any substance?

How could I place my faith in the words of someone who is a liar?

Did I mean anything to him the first time we slept together? Or was it only after that night that he began to feel something genuine? He had taken the money, after all. If he hadn't, maybe I could have found a way to forgive him. But the fact that he not only took it but had the audacity to buy me a gift with it ignited a fury within me that made me want to fight him.

The pain was overwhelming, and the thought of healing felt like a distant dream, almost impossible to grasp.

As I lay in bed, my blanket pulled tightly over my face to shield me from the harsh sunlight, tears slipped silently down my cheeks as I recalled the first time he whispered those three words to me. Was that moment ever real?

A sudden knock on my door jolted me from my dark thoughts. "I want to be alone," I called out, hoping the visitor would take the hint and leave me in peace.

My father and Satine had both made numerous attempts to get me to talk to them about what happened, but I always insisted on being alone. They remained oblivious to the reasons behind my breakup with Anakin; all they knew was that it had happened.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure who seemed oblivious to my earlier plea. "There's a delivery for you, sweetheart," Satine's voice floated in, gentle and laced with concern.

"Another one?" I groaned, tossing the blanket aside as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. "What is it this time?" My voice was flat, a mere whisper as I hastily wiped the remnants of tears from my cheeks. Normally, I would have stayed hidden in my sheets, but curiosity tugged at me, and the pressing need to pee was also a factor.

"Flowers, and there's a box too, but I didn't peek inside," she replied, her tone still soft as I shuffled past her, my feet dragging like heavy weights. I felt a pang of embarrassment at my disheveled appearance; I must have looked like a disaster, and my room mirrored that chaos.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stepped into the open air of the patio. There, a vibrant bouquet of roses awaited me, accompanied by a nondescript brown box. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I recognized the sender—he had been showering me with gifts daily since the festival.

I stepped outside, tearing into the box with a mix of anticipation and dread. Inside, a plush bear emerged, its belly written with the words 'I love you.'

I glanced between the bear and the two dozen roses, then turned to Satine, who stood expectantly, eager for my response. Maybe she hoped I would rush to the phone and declare my love for him, or at least offer him forgiveness. She remained blissfully unaware of the true nature of his betrayal, knowing only that it didn't involve infidelity—something I had made clear. Maybe she thought the situation wasn't as dire as it truly was.

But I had no intention of doing either. It would take far more than a silly bear or a bouquet to mend the rift between us. "Aunt Satine, could you please fetch me some scissors?"

༻✦༺

Anakin's POV
With a cigarette dangling from my lips, I focused intently on the bumper of a car in the shop, doing my best to push thoughts of her from my mind.

I had really messed up.

Not only was making that foolish bet a mistake, but accepting the money was an even bigger mistake. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, yet I convinced myself that I would come clean about the bet. I thought that by giving her a gift, something to show her how much she meant to me, it would cushion the impact of my confession. I believed that if I presented her with something special, she would understand that my feelings for her were genuine.

But now, reflecting on it, I realize I should have never taken the money in the first place. She might have forgiven me simply for being honest, even without a token of my affection. After retrieving the necklace, I returned it for a refund and handed back the cash to everyone involved. I know it doesn't erase my mistakes, but it felt like the least I could do.

"Almost finished with that Cadillac, Skywalker?" Rex called out from across the room, clipboard in hand. His expression was neutral, professional even, but I could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface; he was itching to take a swing at me—again.

Just a couple of days after everything went down, Rex had given Piett and me a stern lecture. It mostly consisted of him yelling at us like we were kids, and I ended up with a black eye for my trouble. Piett, on the other hand, had bolted the moment things got heated, but in his haste, he tripped and managed to give himself a shiner when he collided with the doorknob.

I had anticipated Rex's reaction; after all, (y/n) was like a sister to him. They had grown up together, and his protectiveness over her rivaled that of his affection for Josie.

"A few more moments, just a bit of fine-tuning left on my end," I replied, the cigarette perched between my lips bobbing with each syllable.

He nodded, casting a sidelong glance at Piett, who was engrossed in his work beneath the car beside me. Then, without another word, he retreated into his office. "I swear, he's plotting our murder," Piett mumbled, rolling back under the vehicle he was tending to.

I let out a weary sigh. "Can you really blame him?"

"No," he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy.

Like me, he was struggling. The absence of Josie weighed heavily on him. I knew he had tried reaching out to her countless times, but she had turned a deaf ear to the phone. He had sent her a few things, just as I had for (y/n), yet silence was all we received in return. They loathed us, and rightfully so, but damn if it didn't sting.

"Why don't we just take out Andres or something?" Piett suggested, emerging from beneath the car. "I feel like that might brighten my day."

I chuckled, shaking my head as I removed the cigarette from my mouth and stood, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We're many things, Piett, but murderers aren't among them." I flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it underfoot. I knew I shouldn't be smoking, but it was the only thing that made these days bearable. "Besides, we can't hold him accountable; we brought this on ourselves." I gave the bumper one last inspection before deciding it was ready. "I'll be back; wish me luck." I sighed, making my way toward Rex's office. I needed to sign off on my work and request an invoice for the customer to secure my pay.

"Good luck," he called out just as I reached the door.

As soon as I swung it open, a sharp slap caught me off guard, stinging my cheek. "What the hell, Padmé?" I exclaimed, my hand instinctively flying to my face as I shot her an incredulous glare.

She regarded me with a look of utter revulsion, shaking her head. "Rex just filled me in on everything. What on earth is wrong with you? How could you treat that poor girl like that? Don't you have any sense of decency?"

I narrowed my gaze, irritated by her audacity to lecture me. "That's rich coming from you. I didn't realize you had any morals, considering you were unfaithful to me throughout our entire relationship." I shot back, the sting of her betrayal no longer fresh, yet her intrusion into my life felt unjustifiable, especially when I knew she had been playing me from the start.

Her eyes widened in shock, clearly taken aback by my knowledge. "How—"

"I have my sources," I replied, casting a discreet glance at Rex, choosing not to implicate him. "Honestly, I couldn't care less about your escapades with half the town's women, Padmé, but do me a favor and keep your nose out of my business, alright?"

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. "I wasn't with half of them! I'm not some kind of slut!" she retorted defensively.

"Oh, my mistake. Maybe it was just thirty percent," I said, brushing past her astonished expression to stand before Rex, who was seated behind his desk, observing our confrontation with keen interest. "I'm done with the Cadillac."

He nodded, opening a drawer to retrieve the file. "By the way, I just got a call from her," he said quietly, flipping through the papers. My heart raced at the mention of her—she must have received the flowers and bear I sent. "She asked me to tell you to stop sending her gifts. She wants nothing to do with you," he concluded, and my heart plummeted, the weight of his words crashing down on me. Tears welled in my eyes faster than I could comprehend.

"Oh," was all I managed to utter as the lump in my throat tightened, a sob threatening to break free.

Initially, his expression was devoid of any compassion, a cold mask that offered no solace. Yet, the moment he lifted his gaze after locating the file and our eyes locked, a flicker of understanding passed between us. I could feel the weight of my despair reflected in his own eyes. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, "I might not be much older than you, but I remember the foolish choices I made at your age—choices I still regret to this day." He carelessly tossed the file onto the desk before me, but I made no move to claim it. "All you can do is learn from it and move on."

Move on... how could I? My heart belonged to someone who despised me.

In that instant, a long-buried urge surged within me, "Could you handle the invoice for me, please? I just want to go home." Though the truth was, home was far from where I was headed.

I pivoted and began to leave the office, denying him the opportunity to respond. Just as I was about to cross the threshold, a firm grip on my wrist halted me. I turned to find Padmé, her head shaking in disapproval. I loathed how well she understood me, "Please, Ani, don't do anything reckless. We might be upset with you now, but we still care about you."

I wrenched my arm free from her grasp, my voice sharp as I declared, "I thought I made it clear to mind your own business." With that, I stormed out of the office and the garage, the weight of my frustration heavy on my shoulders.

As I approached my motorcycle, ready to mount it and ride away, a figure suddenly appeared in my path, blocking my escape. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Piett demanded, his tone unyielding.

I couldn't deny the truth; he was my closest friend. "I'm heading to Scottie's. Now step aside."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Dude, you're hurting, and I understand that. I miss her too, I really do," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "But this isn't the answer." Each time I attempted to maneuver my bike around him, he shifted to obstruct me.

"It's just a temporary fix," I admitted, my eyes stinging as fresh tears threatened to spill. "Please, just let me go." I pleaded, hoping he would relent before I was forced to take matters into my own hands.

He shook his head resolutely. "No, I—"

But he never finished his thought. In a surge of frustration, I dismounted the bike and shoved him aside with force, watching as he tumbled to the ground. Without a second thought, I hopped back on, kicked the stand up, and roared off into the night, his shouts fading behind me as I refused to look back.

༻✦༺