A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 68 | fairly big confrontations

The rain mirrored the turmoil within me as I replayed the argument in my mind.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, adding an extra layer of tension to the already tumultuous atmosphere.

"Dwain," I had called out, my voice trembling with desperation. "Please, wait!"

But my words were swallowed by the howling wind and the crashing raindrops.

The rain kept pouring relentlessly, drenching the world in a cold, unforgiving mist.

I stood at the threshold of the cabin, my heart pounding in my chest as Dwain grew smaller in the distance.

It was my fault.

It was entirely my fault.

Yet, I shook my head in denial.

For someone who had always avoided big confrontations throughout her entire life, it was normal for people to give up fighting for me and walk away without second-guessing their decision.

It was easier to just let them go, instead of challenging their authority or exchanging words that could tarnish the relationship forever.

Like a psychopath, it was entertaining to watch them leave.

However, it always resulted in me being a coward.

I was at peace with the outcome of every confrontation, which was until that silly realization came nagging at the back of my head when Dwain walked away from our conversation, leaving me to perish in a puddle of thoughts and regrets.

I was losing him.

I was losing him every day because of the secrets lugged in my throat, but today it felt too real, too real that I was refusing to accept defeat.

Lots of people had walked out of my life without me fighting to have them stay.

Although the list of people who left my life was extremely long, one thing I was certain about was that Dwain wouldn't be added to the list of people who left my life without me fighting for him to stay.

Being indecisive was never an option.

I couldn't watch him go.

I couldn't let him leave me just like that.

I mustered all my strength and took off after him, my soaked dress clinging to my body, and my hair plastered to my face.

I knew I had to reach him, to make him understand.

The rain pelted against my face as I fought against the wind, desperately trying to catch up to Dwain.

My breathing was hoarse, matching the rhythm of my hurried footsteps.

Finally, I spotted him, standing under a nearby tree, his back hunched and his face hidden beneath a curtain of wet hair.

If it was any other day, a single glance at his tattered state would have made me question my existence and stop me from approaching him, but today was different.

I neared him, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and my legs burning with exhaustion.

The weight of his previous accusations weighed on my shoulders, yet, I caught up to him, my hand reaching out to touch his arm.

His arm was cold as ice.

Heat slipped out of my body.

I almost withdrew my hand.

"Dwain, please, just listen to me," I pleaded, my voice barely audible above the storm.

He moved away from my touch, stopping abruptly with his back still turned to me.