9. Destruction

Defeated. Yes. Nayla finally admitted she had lost. And her greatest defeat didn’t come from betrayal. It came from the fact that her heart still loved, even after it had been destroyed. Her feelings didn’t die alongside her burned trust. -Nathan:- [Nayla, I know I’m the last person who deserves to talk about regret. But tonight, I truly feel it. Not just as a failed husband, but as a man who has lost his home.] [I won’t defend myself. Maybe everything I say now will sound hollow in your ears. But one thing has never changed, not even when I destroyed everything, it’s you. That feeling still remains.] [If you’re angry, I understand. But allow me to ask just one thing, don’t erase me from your life that easily.] Nayla read the long message without blinking. The words felt different this time. There was no longer fury laced in Nathan’s text. No sugarcoated lies tempting her to believe. For the first time, Nathan wasn’t forcing anything. And somehow… that hurt the most. Nayla could sense the words were born from awareness. Not from a desperate attempt to fix his image, not from fear of losing his reputation, but from sincerity. Though it came too late, Nayla could finally see Nathan had written with every fiber of his heart and soul. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she let out a slow breath. Her back hunched as if the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. The voices in her head screamed over one another, yet none of them made it past her lips. Her fingers tingled. Her hands clenched, then released, then clenched again. Her chest rose and fell erratically— not in panic, but in defiance of stillness. Even as her soul had given up, her body refused to follow. Her tears were silent, but her cheeks were soaked. The sorrow poured like rain, without thunder and without warning. It started in her throat, then spread to her chest. Her whole body felt numb. Her vision blurred. Not just from crying, but from exhaustion. She felt like she’d lost half her consciousness. Her eyes shut tight. Her lips refused to part. There were no prayers left to whisper. No curses left to scream. -Nathan:- [Sweetheart, it hurts knowing people judge me from a version that didn’t even come from you. But I was wrong. And I deserve it.] [I won’t bother you again after this, Nayla. I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry.] [If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t fix what the world saw of us. I’d fix the way I loved you. I’d learn to love you right and better.] [My nights are empty without you, Nayla.] She read it more than once. Those words knocked on the weakest part of her heart. The part she had long buried beneath rage and pain. Nathan sounded like the man she once loved. The man who looked at her at the altar with promises she didn’t fully hate just yet. Damn it! She hated that she could still feel both the ache and the longing. A part of her still wanted to believe. The broken part. The part that remembered their laughter in silent nights. The part that once loved him, purely. Nayla had lost all sense of direction. Until finally, she gathered the courage to look back at her phone. Her fingers trembled as she opened her social media. But her thumb still managed to tap the story button and type one simple sentence. ‘No one deserves to be judged from a single fragmented moment we see.’ After pressing post, she felt the slightest bit lighter. Not relief, but just enough to breathe without drowning. There was a certain softness in her silence. Not happiness. Not peace. Just a quiet space no longer crowded with anger. A tiny discomfort had dissolved. But not even thirty minutes later, Nayla’s world collapsed all over again. A new message appeared from a sender she recognized. No greeting. No small talk. Just one photo. Nathan. Naked. Asleep on crumpled sheets. A woman’s arm draped beside him. Her face partially caught in the frame. And then, a short message followed. [Still believe him? He seemed to really enjoy what just happened in this bed.] The suffocation she thought had eased came back with double the weight. Deeper. More humiliating. More painful. Because the worst part wasn’t the betrayal. It was that she still tried to protect him. Still hoped. Still believed he might’ve meant it. Still thought she deserved the truth. Nayla suddenly felt nauseous. She was a tragic character in a cheap drama— played without pay, laughed at from behind the screen. “f**k!” Her scream echoed across the room. Sharp and piercing. Like an animal wounded beyond repair. Her hand swept across the table— glass, books, a vase, everything crashed to the floor. She didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t even realize. She bowed her head. Her hair was a mess. Her shoulders trembled. Not from cold, but from a rage that no longer fit inside her. “Am I that stupid?! Huh?!” Her voice cracked— hoarse, soaked in tears. “AM I REALLY THAT STUPID?!” She screamed again. Louder and more broken. She pounded her own chest, as if she could rip the pain out of her body by force. “NATHAN!” Her world blurred again by tears and fury. She kicked a chair, slammed her phone to the floor, then collapsed to her knees. This time, she didn’t bother hiding her pain. “Nayla!” A sharp voice outside her room yanked her back to reality. Damian. He knocked once. Then again. But Nayla didn’t move. She didn’t answer. She didn’t care. She heard his footsteps retreat from the door. But she knew Damian wasn’t the type to give up that easily. And she was right. The door burst open with one swift kick. He stood at the doorway. His silhouette framed by the dim hall light. He didn’t say a word as his eyes scanned the wreckage, then landed on Nayla— still curled on the floor, red-eyed and trembling. There was no compassion on his face. No empathy in his eyes. Seconds passed in silence. Then his voice finally cut through. Low, flat, but laced with naked threat. “Are you proud of yourself now, Nay?” She looked up, breath still caught in her throat. He walked toward her, slow and deliberate. Bending slightly, he picked up her phone from the floor. The screen cracked. He arched a brow. “You think that pathetic post made you look stronger? Or holier?” It wasn’t a shout. His tone was gentle, but that made it far worse. His words weren’t just sharp— they were precise. “You haven’t learned a damn thing,” he murmured, letting the phone drop again. “About who deserves your defense and who isn’t worth a single second of your time.” He reached for her chin, tilting it so her eyes met his. “Congratulations, Nayla. You’ve just humiliated yourself… again." She closed her eyes. No more tears left to cry. Her lids were too dry. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. She was too broken to speak. “You knew I always hated that man, didn’t you?” Damian’s voice was quiet. Venomous. “So why, Nayla?” He yanked her to her feet. Rough. Unyielding. A second later, his lips crashed onto hers. There was jealousy in the way he kissed her, but no tenderness. Nothing romantic. It was raw. Urgent. A punishment. Nayla resisted. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. One hand trapped her body, the other yanked her hair back, forcing her mouth open beneath his. She winced in pain, but Damian didn’t stop. He kissed her like he was trying to erase Nathan’s trace. From her mouth. From her mind. From her soul. Then he lifted her off the ground. His fingers dug into her waist. Too hard to be gentle, but this wasn’t just about violence. It was control. It was desperation. It was a storm brewing beneath the surface, too loud to be silenced, too wild to be tamed. Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between shock and surrender. Damian wasn’t touching her like a man claiming a woman. He was touching her like a man trying to erase something that never should’ve existed. Like her skin still held the imprint of someone else’s sin, and he refused to let it remain. Every movement was rough, but calculated. His grip didn’t tremble, not even once. It wasn’t lust that guided him. It was fury wrapped in hunger, grief disguised as desire. “Nayla,” he growled, her name barely a whisper, yet it thundered in her ears. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. And Nayla didn’t resist. Not this time. Because if love couldn’t save her, maybe destruction would.