Their End, My Beginning

Chapter 22



Chapter 22

Author’s Note: In this chapter is the summary of what Ryder felt from the time they first met after 3

years that is from chapter 4 after flashback. I hope it wont confuse you that is the reason why i wrote

my note. Now you can continue.

*Ryder POV

The first time we met after 3 years, I heard a sweet voice shouting my name after a very long time, the

heart I thought didn’t exist started to beat wildly, at first, I couldn’t believe it was she, the love of my life

standing behind me. I could recognise that voice even if I am in a crowded place, I was that madly in

love with her, but I can’t invite her into my messy life. The perfect life she was having will be gone the

second she enters my life, and that was why I gave many cold looks and looked at her as if she was a

stranger when she was nothing but that, and said those three hateful words ‘Who are you?” I didn’t

know what went through my mind at that time, but the moment those words were said, I regretted it. I

haven’t regretted anything as much as I regretted saying those words. I felt as if I drank some acid. My

throat was burning, Christ, everything in me was burning with guilt and regret. I felt that the heart I

thought was not there before I saw her was now dead. And I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for

the pain I saw in those beautiful hazel eyes.

When she said her parents were dead, I felt my world shattered I wanted to cry. My second parents are

also dead. After the death of my parents, I have turned into what they call ‘icy, cold-hearted, beast”. I This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

knew my parents would not be proud of what I did back then to get to where I am today. Hell, I wouldn’t

be surprised if they said ‘he is not my son’. When I saw those eyes of hers, that I wouldn’t mind looking

at 24/7, tearing up, I didn’t want nothing more than to run to her and hug her and console her. It took

everything in me to not run to her and hold her in my arms.

During the funeral I was there witnessing everything, I was mostly looking at her the way she looked at

the entrance of the church as if she was waiting for someone and the disappointment in her eyes

realising that someone hasn’t come yet. And when I realised that someone was behind me, I had to

grip the bench I was sitting on harder, that I knew that some wood splinter must have got into my

palms. And I wasn’t wrong, I had to put so many band-aids on it and because of that I couldn’t even

hold a pen without hissing.

I was like a proud parent when I heard her speech and how she handled everything very efficiently. I

shouldn’t have even had a doubt because she definitely was strong. The day I heard of my parents’

death I became a maniac drowning my pain in alcohol. I couldn’t even give a proper funeral for them it

was Kat’s parents who did everything and I couldn’t be more thankful to them. I know that they tried to

contact me, but I was so depressed that I didn’t want to be near them. I guess being lonely took a great

toll on me, and I think that’s another reason why I became the way I am.

Even when it was 8pm she didn’t leave the graveyard and in the past, she wouldn’t even cross the path

that lead to church after 6pm and now she was crying, sobbing in front of her parents’ grave. And

knowing the reason why she cried more was because of me was like as if someone stabbed me again

and again in the same wound, making it bigger.

I couldn’t do anything all I could was watch her by standing behind a tree. I wanted to console her or at

least hold her in my arms. I couldn’t control my urge anymore that I started walking towards her. All of a

sudden, as if she realised I was there, she turned her neck so fast that I thought she broke her neck.

She stood up and searched for me. The pain I felt at that moment was worse than what I felt when I

knew my parents were dead. I wanted to go near her, but that meant she being in danger and I

wouldn’t even in my unconscious do anything that causes any harm to her. So, I left from there.


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