5. Your fault

“Urgh, fuck, you are so tight.”

Jayden groaned, holding her ass so tight his fingers almost dug in. His other hand held her hair, revealing just how wide her mouth was open, with a hint of the mix of saliva and something whitish.

Kyla couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t feel.

This was a kind of betrayal that would send every nerve into catatonia before gradually burning into flame.

She’d felt it in every organ. Every drop of blood that runs through her veins.

Her heart and soul.

She watched them groan out in release.

Jayden threw his head backward, then kissed her mouth afterward. A long, hard after-sex kiss, their tongues tangled and fighting for dominance as if they wanted to do it and shatter her all over again.

They pulled away breathlessly. Saliva breaking in between.

“Shayla was right. You could really fuck.”

“Hell damn, she was.”

She laughed, and her eyes finally met Kyla’s.

“We got an audience?”

Jayden glanced her way, and gradually the color drained from his face.

“Kyla?”

Finally. Finally, Kyla could walk.

She moved away from the door. Her boots thudded against the floorboard hastily. Breathing, ragged. Tears won’t stop streaming down her cheeks.

Her hearing had dulled as if she were underwater, but Jayden calling her name managed to break through due to how loudly he was calling her.

How could he?

How could he betray her like this?

She bumped into a few and staggered. Her stomach churned. She was dangerously close to vomiting up the meal she had before coming here.

After everything…

How could four years of a relationship suddenly be ruined in a minute?

The air didn’t feel cool against her skin. They were hot, but at least they filled her lungs again.

He held her. “Kyla.”

She yanked them off.

“Kyla, I can explain.”

He grabbed her hand again. She spun and slapped him across the face. His face whipped to the side. Kyla might have heard a few gasps from the entrance, but she didn’t care.

“How could you do this, Jay? How could you?!” She screamed, slamming both hands on his chest.

He staggered barely. Panic etched his face, his lips quivering as if his world was breaking.

Normally, she would want to hold him. To hug and tell him how badly she’d missed him. But it was all gone. He destroyed everything.

“Kyla… I thought things were over. I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “We fought, Kyla. We hadn’t seen each other or spoken to each other for a month.”

“And then screwing another girl was going to solve that? We never broke—You left that day without saying anything.”

“I thought we did.”

“Well, now we fucking are, Jay!” she screamed, her voice cracking almost painfully. “It’s over. What we had is officially over!”

She turned to leave, but he spoke again.

“This was your fault, Kyla!”

Kyla froze mid-step. Jayden’s words echoed repeatedly in her head.

She turned to see the guilty look on his face vanish, replaced with a kind she wanted to slap off his face. Maybe a little harder this time.

“Four years of relationship, and we never had sex. What am I supposed to do when you flinch every damn time I try to touch you?!” Jayden yelled.

What Kyla felt before doubled. The world doesn't feel right anymore.

“This isn’t all about you. Man gotta feed his desire. Stop acting like you hadn’t caused this. I tried to keep up. I fucking tried!”

She scoffed with a shake of her head. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t form a word.

True, their fight had been her flinching or freezing whenever he tried to touch her in a couple-like way. All they did was gentle kisses, and Jayden always complained.

But Kyla had taken steps. Search. Fight whatever was wrong with her. She even had a therapy session, and she had told him to wait. Told him she’ll find a way to fix herself so they could both have what they wanted.

This isn't Jayden.

This isn't the man she'd curled herself up in her bed, thinking he was the one she'd spend the rest of her life with.

“My father died two weeks ago, and this—this is all you could do and say to me?”

Jayden’s eyes widened as if being struck by lightning. The guilt returned in his eyes as he stammered. “Y-your father? W-what ha-happened?”

He. Doesn’t. Know?

Jesus, what is she still doing here?

“Screw you.” She turned, dragging a hand on her eyes, but her tears were unstoppable.

“Kyla. Fuck, I didn’t know!” he yelled. “I fucking swear!”

She didn’t stop.

“Babe! For God's sake, can you just stop and listen to me? I love you!”

Asshole.

Just as she crossed the gate, he caught her again. She wanted to slap him, but he caught her hand, voice cracking. Desperate, like he was losing his sanity.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please. Listen to me.”

“Let. Go.” She bit every word.

“I’ll make it up to you. Just name whatever you want, and I swear—” He paused mid-sentence, gaze sweeping past her. His shoulder tensed and his brow creased.

“Is that my uncle?”

Kyla squinted.

She turned to look at who he was referring to. And there stood the only man at the dim side of the road, casually leaning against the car.

Carlos?

He was cleaning his glasses with a clean handkerchief.

Once done, he put them on and looked at her, not Jayden. As if her now ex didn’t just drop the bomb that he was his uncle.

He simply opened the door of his Bentley, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Hop in, Wildling. Let’s go home.”