Butterfly Effect

62. Blinded

Throughout the entire evening, his unexpectedly gentle demeanor remained unwavering.

As he drew her closer to his comforting warmth, Jana affectionately nuzzled her nose against the underside of his chin. "Be gentle," she pleaded, wincing when he pulled her a bit too swiftly.

It was a reflexive action, just like how his fingers naturally tangled in her hair.

The man, clearly fatigued, grumbled a response that may have been unintelligible to others, but she understood every word. "Still hurts?"

"Mm."

"Turn around."

Her eyelids fluttered open at his simple command, and she obediently shifted in his strong embrace.

In no time at all, he had pressed her firmly against his chest, his hands finding their place beneath the covers and resting gently on her stomach.

Her breath hitched as she felt his touch, a mixture of tenderness and concern. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin, soothing the ache that had lingered for days. She closed her eyes, savouring the comfort he provided.

His voice, now softer and filled with warmth, muttered into the quiet room. "Just relax."

She melted into his embrace, surrendering herself to his care. The pain gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of security that only he could provide.

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own intimate sanctuary.

As the night grew darker and silence enveloped them, their connection deepened. Their souls intertwined, unspoken words passing between them. With each gentle touch and every tender kiss pressed against her temple, he conveyed a different emotion.

Time seemed to stand still as they held onto each other, finding solace in the quiet moments they shared. The weight of the day lifted from their shoulders, replaced by a profound sense of belonging. In his arms, she felt cherished, protected.

As the first rays of dawn illuminated the room, they knew that their time together was coming to an end.

But the memory of this night, of his unwavering gentleness, would stay etched in their hearts forever.

With a final lingering touch, he released her from his embrace. Jana turned to face him, her eyes filled with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she uttered, her voice barely above a breath.

He shrugged, his eyes reflecting the depths of his loyalty.

The Keenan Jacques Alarie that she had come to know was not comfortable with emotional displays. Not hearing a reply, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I said thank you," she said again, prompting him to look down at her with a hint of irritation.

Once more, the room was filled with silence.

Jana rolled her eyes, lifting her head to sneak a quick kiss from his lips.

This was the only time he responded, a soft laugh escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss, gently pushing her head into the pillow and laying his body over hers.

"I thought you were tired," she teased lightly, but he remained quiet.

No response, not even a hint of one.

Eventually, she let out an exasperated sigh, her hand reaching up to push against his chest. "Keenan! I'm talking to you!" she exclaimed.

"Then stop."

Her expression soured and she gave him one last look, to which he stared back at her with that emptiness.

"You're such an asshole." She spat, pushing him further until he was lifting himself off of her. "I don't even know why you're still here when I'm fine. Why don't you do what you do best and leave me the fuck alone."

Clearly she was hurt by his words, causing his lips to twitch.

He knew her sensitivity better than anyone else.

"Shut up." Is all he managed to say before sinking back into the mattress and closing his eyes.

She pursed her lips out at that, narrowing her eyes at the side of his head.

How could he be so nonchalant about all of this? What happened to all of the things he had been saying? All of the hatred he had been spewing?

By the time the room settled into standby, Jana shuffled back onto her side, facing away from him.

She waited until his breathing shallowed and she knew sleep was taking over again to speak up.

"I want to know how many girls you've slept with in the last seven years."

His thick brows furrowed together, eyes snapping open.

He scanned over her face to see any signs of amusement, when he found absolutely none, a throaty groan followed through.

His voice was masked with thick slumber. "We're not together anymore, it doesn't fucking matter."

"It does to me."

"Seven years is a lot of time." He told her bluntly, "you think I've been celibate for you when you've been fucking my brother?"

Her nostrils flared as she glared at him. "I never said I wanted you to be celibate." She scowled, her tone seemingly calm and composed. "I'm simply asking you because I know you can't keep it in your pants."

"You've stalked every single woman I've been with in the last seven years, what difference would be made by me telling you a number. Or a ballpark of what I suspect the number is."

Ballpark.

Her ears burned at the thought of him with that many girls that he couldn't even gage a number.

Her frown deepened, before he knew it, she was lifting herself up on her elbows and turning her head to him. "How many girls." She wasn't asking, rather demanding.

His gaze hardened as he met her intense stare. The room was suddenly charged with tension, crackling with unresolved emotions.

"I won't give you an explanation," he fired back, his voice dripping with bitterness. "You walked away from us, remember? You relinquished any right to pry into my personal life."

Her eyes welled up with pain, but she stood her ground. "What's wrong with you?! Why do you insist on blaming me for our downfall? It was you. It was all you, Keenan! I stayed and waited for you while you moved on and got married in Paris. In the very city where you professed your love to me. It was you who did this to us!"

She screamed, her voice echoing through the air, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

He scoffed at her sobbing tale.

"Me? I had planned to propose to you that night, but you weren't there. No. You left me a fucking note, ending things between us. A two-line note choosing Julian over me. Why would I stay behind for you?"

Her anger dissipated into confusion, her features contorting with bewilderment. "A note? What are you talking about?" she shouted back. "I was waiting in the gardens for you, just as you had instructed."

At that moment, their escalating argument came to a halt, and confusion settled in.

A single misunderstanding that had bred years of toxicity was now being revealed.

And it wasn't in the way either of them had remembered it.