The man inside stayed silent for what felt like an eternity. At that moment, I was more nervous than Derick himself. I found myself praying—begging the heavens—for him to reject her.
But fate had other plans. Even the gods must have grown tired of my foolishness.
His answer finally came, shattering me completely.
“I love you.”
Those three words—what I had longed to hear for seven years—were not meant for me.
Derick had never said “I love you” to me. The closest he ever came was, “Skye, I like you.”
Even in our most intimate moments, when I whispered, “Derick, I love you,” all I got in return was his raspy, “Skye, I like you too.”
I had once argued with him over it and moved back to my dorm in a fit of fury. That night, he stood outside my dorm building, waiting for me until dawn. Looking haggard, he begged me not to leave him and also said he liked me a lot.
Looking at the man who seemed so heartbroken, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him.
Now, it finally hit me. Derick was capable of loving someone. But not just me.
When he came out of the study, I was already lying in bed, pretending to be asleep.