Chapter Seven: He Touched Me Like I Was Glass
~ And for a moment, I believed I was unbreakable ~
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The air between them was loaded. Thick with everything unsaid.
Kairo's fingers were still wrapped around Elián's wrist, firm but not painful. The gesture wasn't violent — not like before. No one around them seemed to notice. But Elián did. He noticed the way Kairo's eyes trembled behind their usual frost, noticed how the CEO's hand wasn't cold this time.
It was… shaking.
"Let go," Elián whispered.
Kairo's lips parted like he wanted to argue. But he didn't.
Instead, he slowly released Elián's wrist, and the absence of his touch burned more than the grip itself.
"You shouldn't let strange men touch you like that," Kairo said, voice tight.
"You're not my keeper," Elián replied coolly, adjusting his sleeve.
Kairo flinched at the words. He shouldn't have cared. This was the boy he married out of obligation. The boy he'd once resented — treated like property, dismissed like a stain on his perfect life.
But now?
Now Elián stood tall, back straight, voice even. No fear in his posture. No trembling in his tone.
Where had the docile husband gone?
"Come with me," Kairo said suddenly.
"No," Elián answered without hesitation, already turning away.
"I'm not asking."
Elián turned back around, his voice colder this time. "And I'm not obeying."
That word — obeying — sliced between them.
Kairo took a breath. "Please."
The room around them spun on its own axis — noise and people and flashing lights fading as Elián considered the man before him.
The same man who once slapped him for standing too close to Lucien.
The same man who said, "You're just a deal. A name. A ring on paper."
But this wasn't the man from before.
This one had shadows in his eyes.
After a long pause, Elián nodded once. "Five minutes. No more."
---
They slipped away from the crowd, into a private corridor behind the ballroom. Elián leaned against the wall while Kairo stood across from him, silent.
The silence stretched.
"Say what you need to say," Elián muttered. "I don't have all night."
Kairo's eyes flickered down. "Lucien cheated on me."
Elián didn't react.
"I found out weeks ago," Kairo continued. "I didn't want to believe it. I kept thinking… maybe it was a lie. Maybe I pushed him to it."
Elián looked away.
"I hurt you," Kairo said quietly. "I know that. I see it every time you don't look at me. Every time your eyes pass through me like I'm glass."
"You are glass," Elián said softly. "But not in the way you think. You break things, Kairo. People, hearts, trust. You don't even realize when you've shattered someone."
"I'm trying now."
"That's the tragedy," Elián said, finally meeting his eyes. "You only try when there's nothing left to win."
Kairo stepped closer. "I want to fix it."
"You can't."
"I want to try."
Elián's jaw tensed. "You made me afraid of love. You made me believe I was something to be punished for your unhappiness."
The pain in Kairo's face cracked through his careful façade.
"I never meant to—"
"But you did. Every word. Every bruise. Every time you made me feel like I didn't belong in your world."
Kairo reached out, his fingers brushing against Elián's cheek. This time, Elián didn't flinch — not because he trusted him, but because he didn't care if Kairo broke him anymore.
"You're not afraid now," Kairo whispered.
"I'm numb."
That word pierced through him deeper than hate.
"I want to make you feel again."
"Then feel it with me," Elián whispered, tears rising in his throat. "Feel what it's like to want someone who only touched you like you were glass — not to protect, but to keep from cracking his own reflection."
Kairo's hand trembled. He leaned in — too close. His breath brushed Elián's face, heavy with whiskey and regret.
"I don't know how to love the right way," Kairo admitted. "But I'm learning. And I want you to be the one I learn for."
"It's too late," Elián said, even as his eyes betrayed him.
Kairo tilted his head, voice barely audible. "Then tell me to walk away."
Silence.
"Tell me you want me gone."
Elián's lips trembled, but no words came.
Instead, his hand rose slowly, brushing Kairo's shirt collar — the same one he once ironed on their wedding day, trembling in fear of doing it wrong.
"You don't deserve me," he said.
"I know."
"And I might never forgive you."
"I'll still wait."
"I might fall for someone else."
"I'll still love you."
Elián laughed, bitter and broken. "You're a mess."
"I've always been a mess," Kairo whispered. "But this time, the mess is yours if you want it."
A long pause followed.
Then Elián leaned in, pressing his forehead to Kairo's.
"I want to believe you."
"Then do."
"I can't."
"Then I'll wait until you can."
Kairo's hands reached for Elián's — not with force, but with desperation. And for the first time, Elián didn't pull away.
He didn't forgive him.
He didn't fall into his arms.
But he didn't walk away either.
And that, for now, was enough.
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To be continued in Chapter Eight – "The Bruises He Didn't Leave"