Alex lay on his bed, grinning through the sting in his muscles.
If he was going to sell the story,that Simon kidnapped him, tortured him, broke him, then the scars had to speak louder than words. Ariel wouldn't believe excuses. But bruises? Pain? She'd believe that.
And pain…
That, he wore like a designer suit.
He shifted slowly, his breath catching as heat raced up his spine. His body begged for sleep, for stillness. But his mind? His mind was already waiting at tomorrow's doorstep.
Tomorrow.
He would see her.
Ariel.
His Ariel.
After a week and three days of bitter silence, of pretending to be the wronged one, it was finally time to crawl back into her world.
And this time, he'd come bleeding.
Was he angry?
Yes.
Furious, in fact.
She had called Simon. Simon, of all the people in the goddamned world. Not him. Not the man who had killed for her, bled for her, burned the earth beneath her enemies.
No, she called the backstabbing bastard.
But… he got it.
She'd been afraid. Afraid that if she reached out to Alex, it would only make things worse for him.
It was a cute thought. Naive. Heartwarming, in a tragic way.
It made her human.
And it made her easy to bend.
Easy to forgive.
Easy to love.
He flexed his fingers slowly, flinching as something sharp twisted in his shoulder. His knuckles were raw. His chest throbbed with every breath. Still, he smiled.
"She's going to break when she sees me," he murmured, voice laced with dark amusement.
"She'll fold."
------
"Call him again," the woman said, her voice like the calm before a storm.
Adrien groaned, already pulling out his phone. "I've called twice. He's not answering."
She didn't even look at him. "Call again."
He rolled his eyes. "You know, this is why I need hazard pay."
Ring.
Ring.
Click.
Adrien tossed the phone onto the side table like it offended him. "He's avoiding us."
"He always avoids what matters most," Gianna Moretti muttered, staring out the hospital window, the IV still tethered to her hand.
Alex's phone buzzed again.
Adrien.
Of course.
He stared at the name like it was a threat. He wasn't in the mood for anything, much less his mirror-image twin with a superiority complex.
But the phone wouldn't stop.
With a sigh, Alex answered. "What?"
Adrien's voice cut through, sharp and irritated. "You better pick your damn battles, Alex. She asked you to call."
Silence.
Then softer: "She's still in the hospital. And she asked for you. Not a tantrum. Not a monologue. You."
Alex shut his eyes. "I'll come tomorrow."
"She doesn't want your presence," Adrien snapped. "She wants your attention. For once."
Click.
The call ended.
"Annoying child," Alex muttered, placing the phone face-down.
Back in the hospital room, Gianna let out a faint smile.
"That's his way of saying he misses me."
Adrien snorted. "Right. In caveman language."
"You and your brother are so alike."
"No, we're not," Adrien said, offended. "He throws drama like confetti. I clean up the mess."
Gianna raised a brow. "He's passionate."
"He's a drama queen with a god complex."
Gianna chuckled softly. "That too."
Back in the dark room, Alex turned his face toward the ceiling. A strange silence swallowed the space around him, thick and pulsing.
Every breath hurt. Every shift felt like knives. But none of that mattered.
Because tomorrow, he'd see her again.
He imagined her face the moment their eyes met, surprise blooming into horror, then into something better.
Pity.
Guilt.
Regret.
He didn't need her to fall into his arms.
He just needed her to hesitate, to question everything she thought she knew.
To believe that he was the victim.
That Simon had done this.
That Alex had suffered.
And through that crack, he'd crawl his way back in.
He closed his eyes, not from pain, but from pleasure.
"Let's see how you'll react," he whispered, "when you see how scarred I look."
His chuckle was low, like a villain in the wings of a stage, waiting for the curtain to rise.
This wasn't sorrow.
This wasn't heartbreak.
This was performance art.
He didn't need to be forgiven.
He just needed to be remembered.
Tomorrow, Ariel would cry for him.
Tomorrow, she'd carry the weight of hurting him.
Tomorrow, he'd become the broken prince…
While the villain in him smiled behind the mask.