CHAPTER 92: MUTED HEART

He held her like he was anchoring something he didn’t know he was about to lose.

And maybe, deep down, some part of him had known. Maybe that was why he couldn’t let go of her earlier.

Why he kissed her like the world was ending. Why he moved inside her like he was trying to carve the feeling into his bones.

But now the space beside him was cold.

Craig’s hand moved across the sheets, searching instinctively for her warmth. All he found was fabric that had long stopped holding her shape.

His eyes opened slowly. The room was dim, quiet in that strange way it gets after something unforgettable.

He sat up, heart thudding in his chest with a dull ache. His gaze swept the room. Her shoes were gone. The clothes she’d worn, gone. Her voice, her scent, her presence, gone.

"Merlina?" he called out.

But he was answered by silence. It was like she had erased herself.

He threw the covers off and reached for his phone on the nightstand. Maybe she left a message. Something. Anything.

But nothing.

He texted her anyway.

’Where did you go?’

’You okay?’

He waited. Watching the screen like it might change.

It didn’t.

Then he remembered, her phone was broken. He was the one who broke it. Threw it, like a goddamn idiot. The guilt punched him in the stomach again.

She probably hadn’t received the replacement yet. Probably hadn’t even backed anything up. Just a dead phone with no way for him to reach her.

Craig sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair.

This had never happened to him before.

Not just the sex, though that had been... something else. No, this. This aching silence. This total vanishing act. Being with someone and then waking up like none of it had happened.

He should’ve known better. Should’ve asked her to stay the night. Should’ve held her tighter. Should’ve—

But she’d seemed okay. After. She’d kissed him like she meant it. Held him like she needed him.

He knew she felt it. He was sure of it. The way her body shook, the way she said his name, the way she cried—

God. The tears.

He clenched his jaw. What if he’d done something wrong? What if she regretted it?

But no. No, he wasn’t gonna over think this. He wouldn’t twist her silence into shame. She wasn’t someone who did things lightly. And that, what they had shared, hadn’t been light at all.

Maybe she was scared. Maybe she just didn’t know what to say to him. Maybe she needed time. Or probably an emergency she needed to get back to.

But still, he knew she could’ve at least woken him up.

He had done everything right. He hadn’t rushed her. He asked her, if she was sure. He’d gone slow. Careful. Patient. He held her like she mattered. Because she did.

So why the hell did she still leave without saying goodbye?

He dragged a hand down his face, frustration simmering just under his skin. Then he stood and walked to the window, arms crossed over his chest.

The snow had stopped sometime in the night. The world outside looked clean again. Quiet and undisturbed. But nothing about it made him feel sane.

He stared out for a while, waiting for some kind of sign. For headlights. For a knock. For anything that might mean she was coming back, because the truth was, he already needed her.

But the world didn’t care. It just kept going. So he turned from the window, reached for his phone, and told himself he’d wait.

Wait for her to come around.

Wait for her to come back.

Because she had to.

She just had to.

Merlina slipped into her house like a ghost. The door barely creaked as she closed it behind her. Her footsteps were light, her breath tight.

The lights were off. The hallway silent. Everyone had already gone to bed. No one saw her. No one asked questions.

Good.

She didn’t think she could survive a single look from Melissa right now, especially not when she could still feel Craig Lesnar’s hands all over her skin

Her legs felt shaky as she climbed the stairs, the ache between her thighs a cruel reminder of just how much she’d given to him. How much she’d let him take.

She reached her room, turned the handle gently, and closed the door behind her. The moment she did, her composure cracked.

She leaned back against the wood, pressing her palm over her chest like she could hold herself together.

Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. She crossed the room quickly, peeled back the blankets, and fell into her bed, curling up like something shattered.

Because she knew she could’ve stayed.

A part of her wanted to stay, wanted to stay in his arms, in his warmth but she didn’t trust herself. Not with him. Not anymore.

One more kiss, and she might’ve never left. Because the truth was, she already felt like she belonged to him. And that scared the hell out of her.

She buried her face into the pillow and let the tears come. Silent at first. Then harder. She didn’t even know who she was crying for—him or herself.

She needed him.

She missed him and she hadn’t even been gone an hour. She already missed the way he looked at her, like he saw everything she tried to hide and wanted her anyway.

The way he kissed her like their lips had been made for each other. The way he fucked her like he was trying to ruin every man that would ever come after.

It hadn’t been just sex.

It had been...all-consuming.

Soul-snatching. Mind-blowing. Like her body had never belonged to anyone else before. No one had ever touched her like that. No one had ever seen her like that.

And she hated that now, after all of it, she was lying here alone...aching, crying, wanting. She clutched the pillow tighter, the scent of Craig still clinging to her skin, her hair, her memory.

She had gone to that house to get her phone and get out. A part of her knew this might happen—a reckless, burning part of her that had imagined it too many times in the quiet hours of the night.

Maybe if she gave in, if she finally had him, it would push the longing out of her system. Maybe then she could move on.

But she hadn’t been prepared for how deep he’d carve himself into the places no one had ever touched. She didn’t know his presence would bury itself beneath her skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

She had gone there thinking it might be closure. Instead, she left with her heart wide open and the terrifying realization that she might never be able to close it again.

And God, she was afraid.

Afraid of how much power he had over her. Afraid of what she was becoming around him. Afraid that no matter what she told herself, she didn’t want to let him go.

But she had to.

Because reality was waiting. Because she was in no position to want Craig Lesnar, she couldn’t afford to.

They had to go back to school, their lives. Back to the whispers. Back to the lies. Back to everything she’d come to Belford for in the first place.

He was not part of the plan. And yet... all she wanted was to go back to him.

She cried harder, curling deeper into herself. Because the scariest part wasn’t what they had done. It was how badly she already wanted to do it again.

So she was going to do the only thing she could.

Shut it all down.

The feelings. The memories. Him. She would bury it beneath the weight of silence and distance, because if she let herself feel any more, she’d only get hurt.

~

Merlina hadn’t touched her new phone in seventy-two hours. She’d backed it up. Tucked it into a drawer like it didn’t exist.

She knew if she opened it, if she read anything from Craig, she wouldn’t survive it.

So she buried herself in wedding planning. Threw herself into color palettes, guest lists, rehearsal dinners, and seating arrangements she didn’t even believe in.

She distracted herself with napkin folds and fake smiles. Because if she stayed busy enough, maybe she wouldn’t feel the way his name still echoed through her chest.

And today, all her work was coming to a head. Her father’s wedding had arrived.

Fiona was fake-crying in her ivory gown, dabbing at her eyes like she was overwhelmed with emotion, but everyone knew it was for show.

Merlina sat beside Melissa and Alistair in the front row, her jaw tight, hands folded neatly in her lap, pretending she didn’t want to be anywhere but here.

The ceremony was outside. Golden sunlight filtered through the garden trees. Too perfect. Too fake.

Melissa leaned in, muttering under her breath,

"If I cough loud enough, do you think it’ll ruin her vows?"

Alistair didn’t even try to whisper. Alistair didn’t bother whispering. "What, and rob the gold-digging bitch of her big moment? Never."

Merlina snorted. Their Aunt turned around and glared, then shushed them with a sharp tap to Alistair’s shoulder.

"Sorry," he whispered with zero remorse.

Fiona clutched their father’s hand like she was gripping a lottery ticket. And then she began her vows. "I never believed in fate until you walked into my life..."

"Kill me," Melissa groaned.

"...You taught me the meaning of real love..."

Alistair dry-heaved dramatically, earning another tap.

Merlina forced a smile. Played along. Pretended she was just another amused sibling and not someone actively running from the mess in her own life.

But when the ceremony ended, and the kiss was sealed, and the applause started, she felt the weight of it again.

The distraction was over.

She couldn’t hide behind flower arrangements or group chats about wine options anymore. There were no more menus to triple-check. No more things to plan. Just...silence.

That night, back in her room, she finally opened the drawer. Her phone blinked to life. The messages poured in instantly.

Megan:

’Did you die?’

’No seriously, are you alive?’

’If you’re dead, can I have your blue sweater?’

Louis:

’Yo where tf did you go??’

’You just ghosted us like that?’

’You’re being weird. I’m worried.’

Phoebe:

’I had a dream you were kidnapped by a hot stranger in a snowstorm and now I’m starting to think that was just Tuesday for you.’

But then came his name.

Craig Lesnar.

Her stomach flipped. She hesitated. Then opened the thread of messages.

Craig:

’Where did you go?’

’You okay?’

’Did you get your phone?’

’You’re avoiding me now?’

’I just need to know that you’re okay, Merlina.’

She scrolled through the messages with trembling fingers, each one from Craig a blow to the chest. The earlier ones were confused. Then worried. Then quiet. As if he didn’t know what to say anymore.

She hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, seeing the way he’d waited, how gently he reached for her even through silence. Like she hadn’t run out on him in the middle of the night without a word.

She blinked hard, but the screen blurred anyway.

He had cared. He was still caring. While she had been trying to shut it all off like it hadn’t meant anything, he’d been hurting too.

Just then, another notification lit up the screen. A new message. From him.

Craig: If I broke something in you...tell me how to fix it. Please.