"I seem to be torn between 'I wish we'd met earlier' and 'I wish we'd never met'." ― Ahmed Mostafa

"You made me hate the person I was becoming—only because you wanted me to—and for that, you will never be forgiven." ― Ahmed Mostafa

"You can love each other all you want - but you deserve to be free." ― Unknown

"Remember everything will be alright
We can meet again somewhere
Somewhere far away from here"

- Sign of the Times – Harry Styles

Chapter 36

It is strange how much we are living on the verge of death every single millisecond. At one point you're surfing the web, hoping to find the perfect crib for a baby you've been excitedly waiting for months to arrive and the very next moment you find yourself running out of energy surrounded by strangers feeling like life is slowly leaving your soul. A few seconds later a bang happens and you no longer exist. That moment is almost insignificant to the universe, but it destroys you. It destroys who you were, who you are, and who you could have become. Where do you go after that? Is there anything at all that follows the famous "after"? Heaven, hell, void? How can anyone know that? And yet, there is another question hanging in the air, perhaps seconds before the said bang: what happens to those who stay? That baby that has been waited to arrive for so long, that was carried in the mother's womb for months waiting to feel the touch of the creature that gave him life, what is going to happen to him? Who will comfort him when he cries relentlessly for the first time? Who will give him food when his little stomach craves the essence of life? Who will teach him his first step? Who will catch him when he stumbles and falls when his first attempt at walking turns out to be unsuccessful? Who will pack him books for the first day of school? Who will tell him that they are proud of him when he gets good grades? Who will scold him when he ditches school for the first time? Who will hug him and say that everything will be fine when he breaks up with his first partner? Who will watch him proudly when he finally leaves the path of childhood and enters the world of adults? Who, after the fatal bang? Who?

The neonatal intensive care unit, like every previous morning, looked rather creepy. There were many reasons for that. The walls and equipment were so bright in color that they unequivocally reminded me of the scene of going to heaven in every telenovela ever made. The fact that dozens of children fought for their lives in that same room every day didn't make the whole situation even a tiny bit positive. Babies' cries, the basic thing that should be heard at every birth, even weeks later, were almost non-existent. The only thing that ruled over those halls was a suffocating silence.

"Love, you've been doing this for days, you need to rest," a deep, masculine voice told me, followed by muscular, tattooed arms wrapping around my shoulders, drawing me to my man's firm chest.

It's already been a few days? I couldn't help but wonder about the exact interval. His sentence was broad, and vague, providing innumerous possibilities. Two, three, four, maybe five? How many exactly? How many days have passed since I lost consciousness on the cold floor when I walked out of the delivery room? How long did my ritual of motionless staring through an unbreakable window into the incubator that contained a tiny baby boy, born prematurely, last?

I shrugged, not uttering a word. I heard Mateo letting out an annoyed breath, but I was afraid I had lost my voice. It was hard for me to speak. I felt like there was a dam in my throat that was blocking the flow of air. I didn't even remember the last time I talked. How could I?

"Tara, I know you're grieving and dealing with the loss of your friend, but this is not healthy. It's been six days and you've been spending them here. You don't sleep, you barely drink water and I have to force food into your mouth. You can't act like that anymore!" he rebuked me, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

Six days? I was close, though the time became relative the moment I saw another person in my life leave, this time forever.

I shrugged again. I didn't want him to worry, but I felt empty. A thousand questions were running through my head, a thousand different fears, but I couldn't find an answer to any. The only conclusion I kept coming to on that path of seeking the answer was that life is cruel, especially to those who love.

"I can't leave, Mateo, I promised-" I tried to say her name, but my voice cracked. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on a person, there were no more tears. Every tank was depleted, even the one I didn't know I had.

Noticing what the problem was, he hugged me tight, leaving tender, comforting kisses on my neck, trying to make me feel better.

He acted like I was made of glass from the moment he saw me faint exactly six days earlier. He paid attention to the words he used, his every touch was cautious to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. He even looked at me as someone who could break at any moment, He held me like a little water in the palm of his hand, as if I would disappear at any moment if I wasn't watched over and taken care of.

"I know you do. But what you're doing now isn't going to help you, much less that child," he continued with his attempts to convince me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that he was pointing his head in the direction of a little baby who was still fighting for his life.

I turned around to face him almost reluctantly. He looked at me with concern in his eyes as well as with hints of disapproval. My behavior angered him, anger being an understatement, but he still realized that he had to understand me because I was absolutely out of control. Hannah's death took a toll on me, shook me more than I could have ever imagined, and I myself was not aware of the reason why. Maybe there was something more in that connection, something I couldn't understand before it was too late.

"Where's Leon?" I asked, trying to change the subject. He understood, judging by the fact that he raised his left eyebrow in mild irritation.

"He's drinking at a bar not far from here," he replied indifferently, carefully watching my reaction.

"He's doing that a lot these days," I commented, resting my head on his chest. He immediately hugged me even tighter with his arms, leaving a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

"He can't cope," he replied shortly. His voice still didn't show any emotion.

"His son is still fighting for his life," I added angrily.

"I don't think he cares about that at the moment, love," he said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn't talking about the life of a newborn baby.

I backed away, struck by his words, and tried to instinctively pull myself out of his arms, however, he did not let me go, which was to be expected.

"How can you say something like that?" I asked accusingly.

"Tara, if something ever happened to you-" he paused for a moment, closing his eyes tightly for a bit, refusing to create that image in his head. "I wouldn't exist, let alone care about someone else."

I tried to understand their reasons and thoughts, I really did, but I found the whole concept insane. They loved, they loved so much that the intensity of that love threatened to destroy them, but again, that thought should never even cross their minds. I knew that Hannah was the center of Leon's world, as I was the center of Mateo's, and that he was suffering, but he had to be aware that there was someone else he had to take care of. His blood. A tiny, innocent creature that was fighting for every breath with every second passing. His little, underdeveloped lungs threatened to take him to his mother before he could even experience what life meant. Leon had to be there for him, but he wasn't.

"Mateo?" I called him after a few minutes of silence.

He answered with a sound that absently passed over his lips, signaling me to continue. He rested his chin on top of my head and sighed. That movement was so intimate that I almost forgot everything around me.

"Why did she ask me to take care of the baby? I mean I know Leon is acting as anything but a responsible parent, but again. That is his child after all," I asked him in confusion, my voice still hoarse from the loud crying that had been part of my everyday life for days.

I felt his body suddenly stiffen. He was surprised by my question, shocked even. I was too, but again, I wanted an answer. No matter how much I rationalized the whole situation somewhere deep inside, some things didn't seem to make sense and he was one of the few who could solve my doubts.

"She probably wanted the child to have a motherly figure," he said blankly, but there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, even though he tried his best to hide it.

He was usually good at hiding his emotions, but this time they were too intense not to overpower him. Mateo was possessive, very, very possessive. He didn't want to share me, not even with the newborn baby. I wondered why he often talked about our potential child when he was aware that even then, in his twisted mind, he would have to share me. Nonetheless, Mateo had a reason for everything he was doing. I would be surprised if that was an exception.

"You think so?" I asked him thoughtfully.

Is it possible that this is the reason? Hannah was responsible, so responsible that the only thing she could think about in the last moments of her life was the well-being of a child she hadn't even seen. The thought that I wish I had a mother like her kept running through my head, however, it was all in vain. We could not choose our parents. That fact may have been one of the greater tragedies known to mankind. Still, something was bothering me. That couldn't be Hannah's only reason. An inner voice convinced me that there was something else, something I was not aware of and something that was right in front of my nose.

"Don't bother your pretty little face with that love," Mateo said in a slightly uncertain voice, which was in complete contrast with his character. "I have to finish something quickly. While I'm gone, stay here, but when I return, I'm taking you home, Tara, so you could rest, and I don't want to hear the protests," he raised his voice at the end when I actually tried to refuse. He knew me too well to allow it.

I fell silent and crossed my arms. He nodded contentedly and brought his lips closer to mine leaving a hard kiss as if marking his territory. Giving me another warning look, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

-

"Hey," a hoarse, male voice woke me from my thoughts.

Time passed since Mateo left, but it was too relative to me at that point to care how much exactly. Like previous days, I looked carefully in the direction of the incubator, which contained a precious tiny creature entrusted to my care. My emanet.

I turned to the side and saw a dark-skinned, young man who looked like the shadow of a man I used to know. His eyes were swollen, his shoulders slumped, his hair disheveled, and his eyes? They were the scariest sight. Lost, blurred, as if he wasn't there, as if he was somewhere far, far away from the present, of which nothing remained.

"Hey," I said briefly and looked back to the scary room.

Nothing has changed. It was not to be expected either. My chest hurt again.

"You know, she had a high opinion of you," he murmured to my surprise. He couldn't say her name. I understood him though, neither could I. "She thought you were brave, braver than you let others think."

He paused. I didn't answer. I didn't have to. He didn't want my response, he just wanted to get rid of what was bothering him. To show weakness so he could begin healing.

Sometimes people just need someone to listen to them, even seemingly. To be there, to periodically nod their head as a sign they are following the words that are being spoken to them, and to be silent. They don't need to give any advice, they just have to listen and maybe, maybe, give a little, tiny hug.

"It's a strange concept, really," he laughed with all but his eyes. It was a real shame that the eyes were the only ones that never lie. "You didn't spend much time together, and yet, she knew. She would always tell me how there was something in you, something you don't show, something that makes you a bigger person than anyone thinks, than you think you are. She was excited that you would practically be the godmother of 'our little angel' as she called him, and look where we are now..." his voice cracked at the end.

He couldn't fight it anymore. Tears began falling quietly but uncontrollably down his face. It seemed to me that he himself was not aware of that. He was too occupied with his own thoughts that dragged him deeper and deeper into the abyss, closer to the bottom with every passing second.

"It should've been me," he choked out.

That famous sentence had to be a part of this conversation. The idea that what he was saying was not possible from the biological perspective was not even on the list of priorities. I should have turned around and told him how wrong it was to think that, that no one was to blame for what happened, that it was a matter of fate, and a million different nonsense to make him feel better. But I didn't. I was silent. I kept my mouth shut and continued to stare at his son who was seemingly sleeping peacefully. Did that make me a bad person? Probably. And yet, did I care? Absolutely no. The bitterness in my heart was enormous. I was angry, furious, enraged. With Leon, with Hannah, with Mateo, with my friends, with my parents, with life, with death, with myself.

I remembered my mother, what she was going through. I also remembered my father and what I went through because of him. I also remembered Hannah, and what she did just so her child could be born. Completely three different concepts and only one worth mentioning.

"You have to pull yourself together as soon as possible and start taking care of your kid. No excuses, Leon, not one. She would want that," I told him firmly after a few minutes of silence in which he and I were preoccupied with our own thoughts. I still didn't turn to look him in the eye, I couldn't. We still haven't mentioned her name, we couldn't.

"No. No, she wouldn't," he laughed without any trace of humor.

It was only at that moment that I mustered the strength to look in his direction. His glowing face almost made me jump in shock. Something disastrous was hiding behind that facade of pain, something my friend knew and failed to reveal to me.

"I'm not good for him, Tara," he sighed, carefully and slowly removing his gaze from the incubator in which his son was transferring it to me. He tried to convey to me with his eyes what he could not say. I saw honesty in him, honesty and suffering, but nothing more than that. Maybe it is my blindness to the human soul that will become my downfall.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him in a whisper, wondering if I even wanted to know the answer.

For a few moments he just stared at me, wondering if he could or should tell me what he intended to, and finally shook his head, as if gathering the remaining bits of courage that were slowly but surely leaving his body.

"I am very dangerous, Tara. I can't give him the life he deserves. The only thing I can give him is hell. Hannah knew that, and deep down, you know too. "

Maybe he was right. Maybe somewhere deep down I did know what he was telling me, but it didn't matter to me in those moments. I wanted to reason with him, to make him understand that we were talking about his own blood and flesh, all that without seeing the bigger picture.

"Leon-" I started but he interrupted me.

"No, Tara, you don't know half the things. If you knew, everything would be different," he whispered the last part, but regardless of that, I heard him. "I'm perilous, too much. I don't want to destroy him like I destroy people around me, like I destroyed myself," saying that, he burst into desperate, relentless crying.

It was always hard to see men cry, especially since their tears were counted double. There was something grotesque in that. The shiver went through my body and something strong clenched my heart. It hurt, I didn't know why, but it hurt.

I didn't know how to comfort him. It was a question if I even could. No words, no advice, no compassion could help him feel better, less guilty and sad. There was only one thing left to do and hope that it would turn out to be a cure. The hug always had the potential for a therapeutic effect, the rest was up to the person. Realizing that this might be the only way out, the only solution, the only means to help, I wrapped my arms around the strong body of an essentially fragile person, a person convinced that he had nothing left.

-

At first, I felt the tension of his gaze on me. Not long after, my brain registered what was happening. Eventually, I was able to hear the animalistic sound of his anger in the physical world.

I should have known. I really did. If the previous experiences had taught me anything, it was that he always showed up at the wrong time, at times when there was a threat of losing me. I often used to ask myself which sense was responsible for that, and yet, it didn't matter, nor did it change the fact that he saw it. He always saw the way he shouldn't. Every time, without exception.

I quickly broke away from Leon's embrace, although it was a bit difficult, considering that he was not aware of how much danger he was in, so he did not want to let me go. He liked that I gave him support, comfort, he felt as if he was not alone, as if there might be a way out. There will be no way out even in dreams if someone doesn't calm down the raging animal, which in these moments felt beyond threatened.

My reaction, by all accounts, was not fast enough. Mateo pulled me back, almost ripping my arm off and set me up to stand behind him, serving as a barrier between his best friend and me. He was blinded by rage so much so that he could not even suspect that this was the last thing he needed to worry about.

"You really don't want to live, do you?" he asked Leon angrily and, without waiting for an answer, he clenched his hand into a fist and hit him with all his might in the middle of his face. Leon flew a good few inches back and the sickening sound of cracking bones spread through the room.

I screamed with all my might, surprising myself with the volume of my voice. However, it didn't matter to Mateo. He ran to where Leon laid practically motionless, only the movement of his chest signaling that he was still alive.

"Mateo, no!" I shouted once more and ran after him.

Like a few seconds earlier, I wasn't fast enough. He was hitting his best friend without stopping, not caring that he could kill him at that pace. Blood had already begun to appear all over Leon's body. He groaned in pain but never, not once did he return the blow. Mateo was more skilled than him, but he was far from an amateur, he could put up a good fight if he wanted to. However, he just laid there on the floor without moving and receiving blows, as if he wanted to, as if he hoped for Mateo to finish him off. In a way, maybe he was.

"No one, and I mean no one touches what's mine, not even you!" Mateo bellowed, continuing his terror against the person he considered his brother most of the time.

He hit him in the stomach, face, head, groin, wherever he could. He was furious, out of control, out of reality. The question is whether he was even aware of what he was doing. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, the real truth was more than obvious. That was him - possessive, jealous, aggressive bastard, a bastard who didn't care about anyone but me. The obsession he felt for me grew stronger every day until it escalated just when it shouldn't have.

"Mateo, stop it! That's your best friend! You misunderstood everything!" I shouted, trying to attract the attention of someone, anyone who could hear us at the crowded hospital. However, no one was even in sight. The reason was as sad as it was obvious.

"He's nothing to me anymore!" He snapped and pushed me away when I tried to get him of Leon.

As I backed away, from the force he used I tripped on my own feet and fell to the floor with a thud. I didn't let that stop me. I had to prevent the bloodshed no matter what. Otherwise, I would never forgive myself.

Just as I began to get up, Leon uttered a sentence he would regret for the rest of his life. Even Mateo was surprised by what came out of the mouth of his former friend. That move only confirmed the suicidal nature of Leon's behavior. There was no other explanation. Causality was as clear as day. There was no mistake, the range was to zero point zero five, and maybe even less, even safer.

"You don't deserve her. You never did and you never will," he said before a horrifically strong blow knocked him to the ground, leaving him lying unconscious and seriously injured on the cold floor of the hospital where he had lost what he had valued more than life.

I didn't even notice that I was crying until the moment when Mateo approached me and wiped away those tears. He lifted me effortlessly and slung me over his shoulder, heading in the direction of the hospital exit, not turning once.

However, I did. I could see Leon lying unmoving on the floor like a plant. I could see terrified people dressed in white hiding in a corner of the hallway, waiting to help him. I could even see an incubator in which laid a baby I started to bond with without ever touching him. I couldn't just leave, I couldn't.

"Mateo! Put me down now!" I shouted and hit him on the back. He did not react.

"Mateo, I'm not kidding, the baby will be left alone, what if something happens?!" I kept shouting and hitting him. I didn't dare mention Leon's injuries. I wasn't so stupid to think that that wouldn't anger him further and that the consequences, in that case, would be disastrous for everyone.

"Mateo, please," I tried with the last atoms of strength to convince him to let me go, to bring me back. I could not leave, not when something so sacred was entrusted to me. I had to keep my promise. I had to.

"You're only mine, baby girl, never forget that," he began in an icy tone. "And I never share what is mine. With no one."

There was so much to say after that statement of his, so much rebuking, criticism, sadness, anger, and fear. Of all that, there was nothing left. One big nothing.

A/N

And here it is, a new chapter, are you surprised?

I have one question not related to this book. I plan to start writing a new one after this one (I already have a thought-out plot in my head). I may post the prologue before the end of "Lethal Obsession", but I'll continue writing only when I publish the epilogue of this book purely as to not unnecessarily prolong the end. All in all, the book would be a mixture of mystery and romance (enemies (kind of?) to lovers type). It'll be called "Decadence" and it won't have many similarities with this one except that the main male character will be a possessive and jealous bastard (but you'll love him though, prolly more than a female character, I promise lol). So my question is, are any of you perhaps interested in reading it and should I put a quick summary in the next chapter of LO? And how do you like the title? And also, which female name do you think would suit best for the main character (keep in mind that she will kinda be spoiled and rich daddy's girl, but, you know, a good person nonetheless) - Dorothea, Una, Eleanor, Anya? Also*1000, anyone knows someone who makes good covers? Not to brag or anything, but I suck.

Did you guys watch Eurovision last night? Literally, how did Croatia and Romania not qualify? I'm in shock and still can't believe it, both girls had fantastic songs.

I hope you haven't waited long for this chapter and are satisfied.

Instagram -> v_jelenaa

Love you all xx