Shattered Love: Book one of the Forever us series

by Nivia Borell

  “She shuffled to her office, slumped in her chair, yanked a drawer where she placed the paper of her undoing, and then craned her head and deadpanned.

  “‘Alex, my time is up.’ My appetite pulverized as I followed her. She pushed herself off the chair and plodded to the window. Her eyes squinted as she sighed. I knew I had only a few months to prepare myself to lose her for good. I didn’t see relief on her face but her last naïve hope blast on her pristine face. It was when she let darkness overtake her. Bria’s survival mode shut off as if a switch had been flipped, chasing dim light to blackness with one tap of a finger as I stood there with bound hands incapable of changing a thing.”

  I get up from my seat and punish the wooden floor with my pace while Alexander eyes me with furrowed eyebrows. And then as if my brain and heart and entire being align, I decide on two things. First, she can’t leave me because I can’t be the good person and let her go—even if I have to chain us together, she is not leaving me. And second, we have to talk, broken heart to numb heart. I don’t know if we still are capable of such a thing, but maybe it’s like riding a bike—you can’t unlearn something once you mastered it. Her survival drives me, and even if my motive is noble, my way of going about it is wrong because I wouldn’t offer her a chance to say no.

  I need a plan because Alexander is not standing in my way.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, feigning indifference.

  “Find a way to live. I’ll go back to the states for starters.” He shrugs while my eyes probe his.

  “You don’t strike me as a man who gives up easily.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me and smirks. “Who said I am going to?”

  “She’ll never be yours, Alexander.”

  He taps his index on his chin and says, “True statement, but she’ll never be yours again, either. So, we are even. And now, would you like me to continue?”

  My mouth hangs open.

  When will this nightmare end?

  Once again, I drop into the seat next to my tormentor as he reveals more. “After twenty-one days, Bria woke up. I could squeeze her neck when she rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose, but she put on a brave face and went on as if nothing had happened. She was alive and breathing and was facing another heart surgery. After her recovery, she told her parents she would leave London with us and would return when she felt ready. I don’t know what a normal reaction would be from loving parents, but I saw only an easing and a flicker of hope as if time apart would return their daughter to them. Her brother tried every possible way to change her mind from pleading to yelling at her, but he had to give up. She was unshakable, and by the end of his attempts, Filip ceased looking at her. Over the years, I caught his remorse flickering in his eyes more than once, but it quickly switched as he realized she is the same stranger to him.

  “They agreed on the story they would tell anyone who asked where Bria was… studying management in New York and staying with family friends for a few years. She won’t be visiting because she doesn’t like to fly much. Her sole focus will be on getting her degree. As the others concocted this story, Bria nodded.

  “The surgery to repair her damaged heart tissue came and went. Her heart was still weak, but she could live a relatively normal life. After four more months of therapy and supervision, in which everyone tried to convince her to accept a third and final medical procedure, the one to guarantee she would grow old, she shook her head, crossed her arms, and pursed her lips. She’d had enough for the moment and flat out refused. It took everything in me to support her because, with Bria, you can pick only one side, and it’s always hers. So, against the wishes of her doctor, after eight months in the hospital, we left to begin a new chapter of our lives.”

  I squint at Alex. “But I thought she spent a whole year in the hospital. What about the other four months?”

  “Only eight months in the hospital. The other four she traveled around the world with us and prepared her application for New York University. My father thought it would do Bria good to find a place in the world again, but she trudged the entire time. Nothing could entertain her or put a smile on her face, not until she saw a pair of barn owls. In one instant, she went from sparkling eyes to falling on her knees, tears running down her cheeks, sobs rippling her chest. Shock engulfed us viewing her so confused and disconnected. We didn’t even have time to be glad about glimpsing a reaction in her, as it left as quickly as it came, smashing our hopes once again.

  “Tonight, I got my answer when I saw her necklace. I’m sure you know the reason for her reaction, too. But after a moment, she got up and said she was sorry. No explanation. It was maybe the first and last physical reaction we saw in her. As if she wanted to prove how in control she was. From that day on, her every basic human reaction was moot… until you came back into the picture.

  “Bria became this phenomenal machine. She finished at the top of her class and got her degree in two years while also working with me for my father. She functioned sixteen to eighteen hours a day, every day, without a break, without a vacation, and with no complaint. I don’t know how she managed it, but she did. Maybe she thought that if she paused for a moment, she would be crushed. She pushed herself until one day she came into the dining room where my father and I were eating our soup and articulated she was ready to fly back home and work toward her legacy. My father dropped his spoon. I choked on the slippery mushroom liquid. What I knew deep down was that this was the beginning of the end. Neither my father nor I were ready to let her go, but we didn’t know how to stall her. It was inevitable.”

  DAMIEN

  I call to mind the day I overheard Bria was returning home.

  Four years earlier…

  My parents were talking in hushed tones with my sister in the open-spaced living room. I ended up eavesdropping because I couldn’t seem to make my legs function the moment her name was uttered. Although I knew the day would come, I was not prepared. No one overcomes a catastrophe like ours and forgets about the devastation it caused. And then, the realization slams into me—no amount of time can wash away the misery engraved on my heart, so what difference would it make if I see her again now or in another life. Either way, I would still bleed.

  In the minutes that followed, I put on my brave façade as if it were none of my concern. I have mastered the art of deceiving myself as well as others during her long absence. There were no baby steps to settle into my new life without her. I was catapulted into shark-filled water, bleeding. I’d had to learn how to swim and then how to survive being eaten alive. I stride toward them, forcing myself to act my usual, indifferent self, unbutton my jacket, and take the seat beside Sophie on the vast creamy couch able to support ten people.

  Having seen my impenetrable reaction and raising my hand in a gesture to go on, the family assumed I wouldn’t have a problem if we organize a welcome-back party at our family home which used to be her fancied place. I want to shout at them that they have it all wrong, her favorite place was in my arms, and only my sister’s sunken expression and patting my hand in encouragement gives away she knows what I am thinking. My parents chatted away while I squeezed my hands. I have a major problem with throwing a party for the same person who tore apart my heart, stole my life, and forced me to choose exile from our comfort zone, which used to be my home before I settled for a penthouse in another country to be alone with my pain and far away from our shadowy memory. But I say nothing. I nod with gritted teeth and elevate myself for the inevitable.

  I often wondered how her life was when I drank a glass of Lagavulin 12 alone in my flat in the privacy of the night behind closed doors and opaque curtains. My mind automatically conjured thoughts of her, and even though I craved to slice my weakness, I couldn’t.

  She is so deep-rooted in my veins as if I’d had her name inked on my blood vessels. Nothing could ever erase it, so I thought it’s a normal physical reaction to draw images of her in my mind.

  In the three years of absence Bria became a
woman, and I have missed the entire process. Melancholy washes over me, and a renewed sense of loss hits me hard in my shattered heart. In my old room, I peer at her through the window, fisting the curtains, trying to conceal myself behind dark matte blinds. I take my time studying her feminine curves, soft features, and the slight sway of her hips. Bria didn’t transform per se, it is more a subtle change, a ripening of her features, and to my amazement she looks even more refined and beautiful, if it were fucking possible. She must have sensed me gawking, and for just a moment, time stands still as Bria tilts her head, her light golden-brown hair falling down her back almost caressing her waist. A light tremor crosses her features when our eyes, lost to stormy ones collide.

  For just a second, our eyes lock and bind our hearts again, only this time in agony and misery. After the moment passes, my exhale rushes from my lungs. Her posture changes, and I see a sophisticated, confident woman on the arm of another man who looks at her with love shining in his eyes. The mixture of feelings assaulting me, speeds up my heartbeat, and I collapse under the weight of this event. Fury, anger, jealousy, love, and hatred battle for a place in my heart, and at the end of the fight, hatred wins the last round and becomes my companion for the next years. I backtrack until my back hits the door as I twirl and slam it behind me.

  As I descend the stairs, I notice the thick tension filling the family’s majestic living room sparring for a prime spot with the sun rays infiltrating the floor-to-ceiling windows. People stare from one to the other of us. An impenetrable shield surrounds her straight back, high shoulders, hands glued to her silky, toned legs covered in navy fabric, her nose stuck in the air, and her fine neck craned to the side. The once-adored girl has become a foreigner, and I feel a sick pleasure because she deserves it.

  I swear to make her pay for everything she has stolen from me. In one afternoon, Bria becomes my sworn enemy, the person on whom I want to inflict pain until the end. She introduces her companion to everyone with a plastic smile on her face, while my stomach churns. He gets a rather cold but polite welcome. We scan each other, and I know we wouldn’t become friends. Well, at least the feeling is mutual. I have only one curiosity, though. Why do his eyes flash with hatred toward me? I hunger to punch him in his arrogant face and say, ‘You have it all wrong. She’s the ruin masked under unearthly beauty.’ But I believe he’d discover it all by himself eventually.

  When I strut over to them, he plants his arms around her. I smirk as if to state I don’t desire her anyway—been there, done that, overcame it. It was a big fat lie, but the pain inside made my arrogance grow into a giant. And since I am the host, I was the first to initiate the conversation. We were grownups, so why so much kindergarten attitude, then?

  “Damien du Sky.” I extend my hand to him. For someone as shaken up as I am, my confident and deep voice startles me, and I am glad at least one organ in my body didn’t feel the need to betray me and reveal the war going on inside me. And all the while, she—her name is not something I utter pleasantly—scrutinizes me, and tingles spread themselves from head to toe as I shake the unpleasant feeling away. I scrunch my eyes trying to decode the meaning of her glares.

  My whole core crumbles at the torture of her nearness. How long until I could begin living again? Whatever my sins, the punishment is too long.

  Alexander Hope—her, whatever he is to her, I assume lover—answers and squishes my hand into a handshake. Interesting. I have never swerved from a challenge. Meanwhile, Bria glares at me as if probing for something she can’t find. And me? I don’t know how to behave around her. What is someone supposed to do in my place? An embrace seems too personal and even a peck on the cheek is too much considering our past. I clasp her hand and shake it when the force of our hands brushing, jolts me from within. I lean forward maybe just a few inches to feel her warmth and catch a whiff of her floral smell, which I’m hooked on immediately.

  I assume three years are not long enough not to plunge into old addictions from the very first moment I am presented with a fix. My reaction angers me more than anything else about the fucked-up situation as I grit my teeth. Her fingers freeze in my hand, and the only organ seeming to function is her blinking hazel eyes.

  I let her hand drop, and she rests against Alex as if she belongs there. I could tell by the grin he sends in my direction and the look of pleasure on his features as my hands draw into fists in my pockets. And because I am a glutton for punishment, I want to hear her silvery, melodious voice, searching for something that has remained the same.

  “Welcome back, Bria… or should I say, stranger?” I ached to make her feel uncomfortable, but she gives nothing away as I lean into her.

  “Thank you…” She pauses as if pained or worse as she fights to utter it out loud, and then my name pouring from her lips drive me to my knees. “Damien.” My name, the sound of ruin, is coming from her sinful, perfectly elegant, bow-shaped mouth. I’ve kissed it a thousand times, dreamed of her lips even more. The lips that were mine, but now kiss another man. How is it possible for my heart to be so stupid and still drum for her? I fight with my control so hard, my insides rattle.

  “I’m sure you’re glad to be home again.”

  “Yes, of course, I am,” she spouts. And the moment our eyes meet, my eyebrow rises as she sinks her stare for a second before bringing herself back under control. Someone has worked on her lies because she could have fooled everyone else, but not me. When you have known a person better than yourself, no time can change your ability to detect the merest deceit from a mile. She is not my Bria anymore because the Bria I knew was incapable of dishonesty. But now, here she stands, proud and tall, wearing a navy dress with a slit on the side, where a creamy thigh peeks out, and lies to my face. I mull over why she came back if not even for her own family.

  “So you’ll be the head of the management division. Are you prepared for the task?” I challenge as I tower over her.

  “I wouldn’t be here otherwise, believe me,” she drawls, and Alexander beams as if he couldn’t be any more proud of her.

  It was my signature, inked in blood, on the papers that gave her the position. Of all the papers I had to sign, only the one appointing her gives me a sour taste and burns my throat like it’s pure acid. It took me hours to come to terms with it as I was a mess of anger and frustration, pacing through my office, cramming a fist into my mouth, shouting inside, incapable of denying her the role and also hopeful I could make her crawl back from whatever traitorous hole she has come from.

  “Well…” I say, “… we’ll have to trust you, then, won’t we?”

  If nothing gets to her, this one word, trust, should manage to slip under her cold façade, and for a brief moment, she sighs. “You don’t have to trust me, Damien. It’s not what I ask of you. Trust my work ethic, professionalism, and my irreproachable résumé.”

  Minus her absolutely perfect résumé, I would have fought more before I accepted her back in the company and entrusted her with the programs, activities, and resources for future developments and long-term goals of the company. How would I have loved it if she had to start from scratch again. Years and years of torture. But I guess it would remain just wishful thinking. So fucking easy for her to speak of trust!

  I let loose of my control and semi snarl. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

  Alexander’s mouth gapes, but she shakes her head and silences him. She nods in my direction and whispers it won’t take long. He pleads with his eyes for her not to leave with me, but she follows my lead nonetheless. And because I enjoy his distress, I respond to him over my shoulder, “Oh, don’t you worry. I will take care of her for you in your absence.” Sarcasm drips from my tongue and I regale him with an artificial smile and a flash of my teeth as he pierces me with a threatening look.

  “That was unnecessary and childish, Damien,” she counters.

  “Whatever.”

  “You’re still the same, I see.”

  This one statement, and my blood boils.
I halt as she bumps into me. Her apology makes me dart once again. Who the fuck does she think she is? I march toward the other terrace for a little privacy, plus I wish no one else to witness my sorry state.

  “I thought we were going to your room.”

  Do I hear just the slight hint of disappointment?

  “You’ll never set foot in that room ever again, Bria. You lost the right quite a while ago.”

  Is she delusional to utter such nonsense?

  The clinking of her heels halt as if shocked by my nasty reaction, but she catches herself and resumes following my trail. “Where are we going, then?”

  “Where we won’t be disturbed until we agree on some ground rules, and then you can go back to your lover boy.”

  In the corner of my eye, I spot her twitch before she says, “As you wish.”

  A line of magnolias and mountain oaks enclose the terrace behind the mansion. Beyond, there is a meadow, and in the middle, a wooden bench overlooking Lake Zürich. It is the one place offering me a feeling of contentment as I let the floral and fresh scent invade my nostrils, but with her in the serene and peaceful spot, I have to battle for just one ounce of control. What angers me most is how perfectly her beauty matches this place. I am reminded of all the times we spent here together. Images of us together jumping in the lake, dancing under the stars, of stolen kisses and murmured promises invade my mind as it is a video replaying over and over again as if I’m tied to a chair with my eyes stretched open, tortured to see it on repeat. The pain left from every memory slices at my heart. I sigh and indicate she should sit on the bench as I shamelessly allow myself to stare at her bare legs, her blue dress hugging her alluring frame while I lean on an old oak facing her. I shut my eyes to regain a bit of self-restraint and sanity before the affliction begins.

  Her snobby little noise sniffles the air, her gaze following miles away. She tucks her small hands in her lap, and her legs dangle in front of her. Bria looks lost in this place and far-off, so aloof I don’t know if I could catch up with her. How do you initiate a conversation with the one who was once the love of your life and is now the reason for your misery? Time doesn’t cure. That may be humanity’s biggest lie. Time merely numbs, but when you have to face the same thing that once created it, the wound is even bigger, and the blood you bleed is even thicker. Time cannot mend what life seized from you. There is no justice and no doing good when the worst has already shattered you. Time only alters your perspective—the older you remains in the past, and the stronger, new you more adaptable to pain emerges. The callous, uneven crust of the tree pricks at my skin through my dark blue suit jacket. The slight discomfort grounds me as I unzip my mouth to ask the first question.