Chapter 62:
What Love Makes You Blind To

The night air was cool and quiet, wrapping around them in a soft darkness. Olivia lingered in the open doorway, knowing he should go, wishing he could stay, caught between what she wanted and what she could only hope for.

"I should head home now," Harry said gently, stepping across the threshold. "Goodnight, Olivia. Thank you for tonight - for dinner, for... everything. It meant more than I can say."

She offered a small, soft smile. "You're welcome. Drive safely, Harry. Please."

He nodded and turned away - but then paused, looked back, and leaned in to press a gentle, fleeting kiss to her left cheek. Warmth spread instantly across her skin, settling in her chest and rising to her face in a hot flush of crimson. She stood there, hand touching where his lips had been, watching him walk to his car, watching the streetlights catch his silhouette, until the engine started and he drove away into the night.

"Goodnight," she whispered to the empty street, closing the door slowly behind her. Her heart felt light, hopeful, like something beautiful had finally shifted into place.

She turned around, already planning how she would replay this moment in her mind before sleep - and froze.

There, on the sofa in the dim light of the living room, sat Andrei. A mug of tea rested between his hands, untouched, steam long faded into the air. He hadn't been asleep. He had been waiting. Watching.

"What do you think you're doing?"

His voice was quiet, but it cut through the room sharper than a shout could. Olivia's breath caught. She straightened her shoulders, pushing down the sudden twist of guilt in her chest.

"I'm living my life," she said, her voice firmer than she felt. "My choices. They're none of your business, Drei."

Andrei stood up slowly, setting the mug down on the side table with a soft, deliberate clink. He didn't raise his voice. If anything, it was lower - heavy, tired, carrying the weight of so many things he'd already said too many times before.

"You're right," he said. "It is your life. And that's exactly why it hurts to watch you ruin it all over again."

He walked past her toward the kitchen, as if the conversation were already over - but then he stopped, turning back to face her, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. It wasn't anger. It was exhaustion. The kind that comes from loving someone who keeps walking in circles you can't pull them out of.

"And I almost forgot," he said, a bitter edge touching his words, "I only really exist when you need something, don't I?"

Before she could find a single word to say, he turned and walked away. Down the hallway, away from her. And this time, there was no gentle closing of a door. He didn't need to slam it. His silence spoke loudly enough.

Olivia stood frozen where he had left her, her feet heavy as lead, tears stinging her eyes before she could stop them. They spilled over hot and fast, tracing paths she felt she'd walked a hundred times already.

I didn't mean to hurt him, she thought, her heart aching in a way that felt selfish and true all at once. God, I never wanted to hurt him. He's been the best thing in my life when everything else fell apart.

She thought of all the nights he'd sat up with her, holding her while she cried over Harry. All the mornings he'd shown up with coffee and a gentle smile, knowing she was still hurting. The way he'd never asked for anything in return, just the privilege of being there. He had walked through her darkest seasons beside her, carrying more of her pain than should ever be asked of a friend. He deserved someone who looked at him and saw everything. Someone who chose him first, every time, without hesitation.

But she couldn't give him that. No matter how much she wanted to - and sometimes, looking at his kindness, she almost wished she could - her heart already belonged somewhere else.

"Maybe," she whispered into the quiet room, "if I had met you first... I could have loved you the way you deserve. But I didn't. I met him first. And my heart chose before I had a say in it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and heartbreakingly true. She knew exactly what it felt like - loving someone who looked right past you toward someone else. She was doing it to him, and Harry was doing it to her. It was a chain of heartache no one had asked for, and yet here they all were, tangled in it anyway.

But then the thought settled in her chest, firm and unshakable, the way hope always settled there no matter how many times it had been bruised before.

Harry loves me. I know he does. I saw it in his eyes tonight. I felt it in that kiss on my cheek. He's just... sorting things out. He needs time. And when he's ready, he'll come to me. He'll choose me. I know he will.

It sounded stubborn even to her own ears, and somewhere deep down, a small voice whispered - Liv, how many times have you told yourself this? How many times does he have to leave before you see he's not coming back?

But she pushed that voice away. She had to. Because if she stopped believing in him, what did she have left?

"I'll wait," she said softly, more to herself than to the empty room. "I don't know how long. But I will. Because this isn't just a crush, or a memory, or a wish. This is..."

She wiped her cheeks, lifted her chin, and spoke the words that had kept her going through every disappointment, every quiet night, every moment like this one.

"Call it foolish. Call it blind. But I call it love."