Chapter 32-Never the backup

Chapter 32: 32-Never the backup

Aymara knew how absurd it was to ask Nathaniel to believe her. It was too soon to cross that bridge but she kept talking.

"And I realized the person who had been standing beside me through everything was the person I had pushed away," she said.

Nathaniel’s gaze slowly dropped. His fingers tightened against the blanket until his knuckles whitened more than before, his thoughts suddenly too tangled to put into words. The warmth of her beside him felt dangerously familiar.

"Aymara..."

There was something in the way he said her name that made her chest ache. She gave him a small, sad smile.

"I know what you’re thinking, Nate."

Nathaniel remained silent, though his jaw flexed.

"You think you’re only here because Dylan and I broke up... The backup."

His eyes flickered toward her, then away again. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to because Aymara could see the question written all over his face.

After everything that had happened between them, why would she suddenly come looking for him now?

Why him? Why after Dylan had left the picture?

She leaned slightly closer, her expression turning serious. "But that’s not true."

Nathaniel finally looked at her. His eyes held doubt that could swallow her whole.

"I didn’t come looking for you because Dylan was gone," her voice was quiet, but there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in it. "I came looking for you because I finally realized what I had lost and I don’t ever want to lose you again."

Nathaniel’s breathing became uneven. His chest tightened, and he hated that her words still had the power to reach somewhere he had spent years trying to seal shut.

For years, he had forced himself to bury the feelings he had once carried for her. He had convinced himself that whatever place he had held in Aymara’s heart no longer existed.

Yet here she was, sitting beside him and looking at him as though those six years had never managed to erase what they had once been.

That frightened him because some part of him still wanted to believe her, some part of him still wanted her in his life and that was the part he trusted the least.

Aymara swallowed. "You were never second..."

Nathaniel’s gaze shifted away, his fingers pressing harder into the blanket.

"You were never my backup," her voice softened. "I know saying that now doesn’t erase what I did."

Nathaniel’s fingers curled tighter. "It doesn’t. It never will."

"I know."

"You left me... you chose him and no late discoveries is ever going to change that."

His voice cracked slightly despite his attempt to keep it steady. He turned his face away, as if hiding the fracture in it could keep her from seeing how deeply the old wound still hurt.

"You let him convince you that I was someone you didn’t need in your life and that is something that no apology can erase.

Aymara’s eyes immediately filled with tears. "I know that I was wrong and stupid...and wrong...and stupid."

The words came out barely above a whisper, there no defense in them, no attempt to shift the blame, just acceptance.

Nathaniel stared at her for several seconds. His throat worked as he fought down the tenderness that rose alongside his anger and then his gaze hardened.

"Then why should I believe you now?" The question came out sharper than he intended.

Aymara flinched.

Nathaniel immediately noticed. His hand twitched toward her before he stopped it.

For a fleeting moment, guilt flashed through him. He hated that he still cared about hurting her. He hated that even after everything, some instinct inside him still wanted to protect her from pain but he couldn’t take the question back.

He had spent six years swallowing questions. He had earned the right to ask them now.

Aymara lowered her gaze. She could have promised him everything, sworn right there that she would never hurt him again, that she would spend the rest of her life making up for the past, that he was the only person she would ever choose but promises were easy to make.

She had already learned that words meant nothing when actions told a different story. So she gave him the only answer she could.

"You shouldn’t have to believe me yet."

Nathaniel’s eyes flickered, suspicion warring with the fragile hope he refused to name.

Aymara took a slow breath. "I’ll prove it to you. Every day."

She reached toward his hand, then stopped just before touching him. Her fingers hovered there for a moment before she slowly lowered them.

"I won’t ask you to forgive me today," her voice trembled. "I won’t ask you to forget what happened. And I won’t ask you to pretend that six years of hurt can disappear just because I’m standing here telling you that I regret it."

Nathaniel’s expression remained unreadable, but his shoulders had gone rigid.

"But I want you to give me the chance to show you that I’m not the woman who walked away from you anymore."

Silence stretched between them. Nathaniel wanted to believe her. Badly. And that was the problem.

If he had felt nothing, this would have been easier. If he hated her completely, he could have pushed her away without hesitation but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

The anger, the betrayal and the six years of loneliness were still there yet beneath all of it was the same foolish heart that had once loved her and it terrified him that it had apparently never stopped.

"And Dylan?"

Aymara’s expression changed. Whatever softness had been there disappeared, replaced by quiet certainty.

"He is no longer part of my life."

Nathaniel studied her, searching for the smallest crack in her answer. "You don’t still love him?"

"No," the answer came without hesitation. "I don’t. I have nothing left in my heart for him."

He searched her face carefully. He had once been able to read her better than anyone. Now, he didn’t know whether that ability had survived six years apart.

Still, he looked for hesitation, regret and longing. Anything that might suggest she was saying what she thought he wanted to hear but there was nothing.

Nathaniel refused to let himself accept it too easily. He had believed her once, trusted her and had built years of memories around that trust and then he had watched it collapse piece by piece.

Aymara took a slow breath. "Dylan was something new and i mistook that feeling for something deeper," she paused. "I thought because he made everything feel different, he must have been better."

A bitter smile touched her lips. "But I understand now that familiar doesn’t mean ordinary," her eyes lifted to his. "And constant doesn’t mean worthless."

Nathaniel’s chest tightened. He wanted to reject the words, to remind her that being constant had not saved him from being abandoned. Instead, he sat there, caught between the comfort of being understood and the fear that understanding had come too late.

Aymara’s voice became softer. "Sometimes the person who’s always there becomes so familiar that you stop realizing how precious they are."

She looked at him. "I did that to you."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "You did and that too in the rain... I had a fever that lasted a whole week after that."

Her eyes glistened when she heard that. It broke her to learn how much he suffered because of her.

"And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life."

Nathaniel looked away. He didn’t want her tears to weaken him. He didn’t want her regret to make him forget what those six years had felt like.

But he also couldn’t deny the strange warmth spreading through his chest. It frightened him how quickly a part of him still responded to her pain.

Aymara smiled faintly. "I spent six years learning how to live without you," her smile slowly disappeared. "I don’t want to spend another day doing that."