CHAPTER - 33 (not proofread)

LOVE IS... ALWAYS THERE

"It's not about finding someone who won't fight with you or make you sad. It is about finding the person who will still be standing there, wiping the tears away, and holding you in their arms after a fight; the one who will never leave, no matter how hard things get."

As I stared at the picture of Ashton and me in Mike's phone, I couldn't see the tenderness between us or our chemistry, or the way I was looking at him with nothing but awe and want, or the way he was smiling down at me one of his rare smiles and a strange glint in his eyes. No, I couldn't see any of that. The tenderness and the heart touching factors of the picture had diminished into the thin air just within these few minutes. All I could see was the face that had betrayed me earlier by making me believe all along that we hadn't met four months ago on that night and betrayed me yet again by concealing his truth when I had bared it all to him.

Ashton Parker was A. Zaccheus, one of the most famous young artists. He was not 'good for nothing' as he had let everybody believe; as he had let me believe.

In return of the truths, fears, and my past that I had laid down in front of him with complete trust, he had given me nothing... nothing but the deliberate concealment of his truths. He had successfully managed to make a fool out of me.

Slowly, everything came in front of my eyes and things became clearer. The way he was looking at the painting in my room, and he had asked, 'Where did you get this from?'

What were the odds that he would end up finding his own piece of work in my room; his matchmaker's room? Of course, he was shocked to see it there.

'You like it?' he had asked as if it actually meant something to him. No, it didn't. I was sure of that. He just wanted to take the review of his fine piece from its current owner as discreetly as possible. My reply that I loved the painting must have boosted his ego to twice its size and he must have had a good laugh at my back. And this realization made me clench my fists in a death grip.

The painting that hung in his room overshadowed my thoughts. 'Did you paint this?' I had asked him. He could have told me the truth, but he chose to be sarcastic and reply with, 'With my left hand.' My jaw clenched tightly, my heart dropped, I felt heavy as if the weight of the entire world had been shifted on me. Thankfully, I was already seated.

Seeing my expressions of utter distraught and ire, Ivy covered my hand with her's, bringing me back to the place where I was in - Mike's living room. My head snapped up in her direction and with blurred eyes, I watched as she looked towards Mike with a helpless expression on her face. Biting her lips, she told me, "I had no idea that you were talking about this Ashton. And neither did I know about the fact that you had no idea about who he is. I'm really sorry that you had to find out about him like this. Sorry."

Rapidly blinking my eyes, I pushed back the unnecessary tears and smiled at her, amidst the varied feelings I had in my heart. "Oh, don't worry about it. I-I'm just shocked. That's it." I tried to wave it off to the best of my acting prowess, but it was clear from their expressions that I was a failure. A ragged sigh escaped my lips and I stood up, intending to go out and be alone for some time. "I-I... um... should get going," I mumbled. "It's getting late."

"I'm sorry, Liana," Ivy apologized yet again.

My eyes darted towards her and I shook my head at her with a grimace. "Don't be silly, Ivy. I'm perfect... perfectly fine." I grinned a bit to prove my point. My heart ached doing that. "It was lovely meeting you, Ivy. Mike, take good care of her." I picked up my handbag from the couch where I had placed it when I had entered the apartment hours ago. "I'll see you guys soon. Okay?"

They looked reluctant as I stood at their door, ready to step out the moment they say goodbyes. Mike was the first to say, "Let me drop you to your place, Lia."

Shaking my head, I declined his offer. I wanted to be alone. "I'll take a cab. Don't worry about me." Looking warily towards each other, the lovely couple said bye to me and I was not the one to delay my exit any longer.

But the night, too, seemed like betraying me with its unusual mood. The fresh air mixed with the pollution of the New York City, a combination that I had ended up liking during my stay here, suffocated me. The chatter of the people walking with me or crossing me on the pavement didn't sound pleasant at all; they were nothing but noises. The night life around me looked like a blur of dull lights and insignificant noises. The voices inside my head, reminding me of how stupid I had been proved, were louder than all.

My steps halted in front of a bar and for a split second, I entertained the idea of going inside and drowning in alcohol just like I had done on that particular night four months ago. But a single memory of that disastrous night, made me step away from that bar and continue my journey towards my apartment.

I didn't want to meet another Ashton Parker.

My next and final stop was my apartment; my safe haven. The place where I could easily feel the pain of betrayal, cry freely, watch some re-runs of the Batman series, eat nachos and cheese with some espresso, write any crap in this month's article, never meeting the famous painter again, pack my bags, and go away to start my new column; far from Ashton.

With sweaty, shaking hands, I unlocked the building lock and ran upstairs to reach my destination. Out of breath, I tried to stop the sob that was threatening to escape from my lips. Just five more steps and I could cry my heart out in the comfortable ambience of my home.

But apparently, fate was against me because when I looked up towards my apartment door, I didn't see the huge wooden piece, I ended up seeing a person leaning against it, his eyes trained on me and his jaw set. A gasp escaped my lips, and I breathed a mouth full of air. "You've got to be kidding me," I hissed when I had managed my surprise. Licking his bottom lip, he took a cautious step towards me. "Don't!" I warned him in a loud voice, startling both of us.

Ashton halted and ran his fingers through his soft hair. "Liana..." His voice was deep and husky.

"Just don't." This time I stopped him in a low but bitter voice. Why was he here? Did he find out that I had found out his truth? Did Ivy tell him everything? Or was it my definition of the day that made him come here? I cursed myself for wanting to ask so many questions from him, when it was clear that he never intended to answer any of them. It was stupid of me to even care after knowing that he never reciprocated my trust in him.

Sliding past him, I took strides towards the door. He had to come here and spoil everything for me. Couldn't he just leave me alone and let me spend the night as I had planned? My shaking hands didn't make it easy for me to unlock the door. I gritted my teeth in sheer annoyance as I inserted the key in the lock and it clicked open finally. Hastily, without looking back at him, I opened the door and entered it, only to shut it in his face. But he was faster as he stopped the door with his hands, making me turn around and glare at him. Now, I was in my home; in my comfort zone. Now, I could take out all my anger and frustration on him.

"Liana, listen to me first..." he started to say, but I cut him off.

"No! You listen to me, Ashton, or do you prefer Zacchaeus or Zach, huh?" I started saying, taunting him. In reply, he shut his eyes tightly, conveying to me that he was not surprised upon hearing his other names from me. Ivy had told him what had happened and that's why he was here. But, what was the need to do that? "I trusted you so damn much, Ashton. You hid the fact that we met that night when I was so drunk. You hid the fact that Priscilla is not your real mother. You still don't want to tell me anything about your family problems; problems that obviously eat you up from the inside, and now, I come to know about the fact that the guy I know is actually not someone I knew. You hid your identity from me."

During my rant, he continued to stare at me with something close to guilt, but I was too blinded by my anger to see that. After a humorless laugh, I continued, "It's not exactly your fault. I understand. It's my fault that I assumed that you'd be just as naïve as me and start telling your sob story to anyone you meet. It's my fault that I thought that we could be more than acquaintances. It is entirely my fault that I trusted you, but couldn't win your trust. Right? It's great that I'm going away."

I waited for him to say something. Then my mind made me think that would he even make an effort to give any clarifications? I was, after all, nothing but one of his mother's employees. That made me realize that I didn't want to hear anything he had to say. Maybe he was here just to say goodbye... pity that my heart broke into a thousand pieces, just thinking about this even after everything I had come to know and didn't come to know.

And just as he opened his mouth to say something, I stopped him with me next words. "I'm done with you, Mr. Ashton Parker. I'm so done with you." I realized that saying goodbye was harder than hearing it. But I had to do it as my stupid heart couldn't bear to hear it from Ashton's mouth.

His eyes widened at my words and I took his surprise as an opportunity to step inside, shut the door, and cry in peace. His surprise was, however, short lived as his reflexes were fast enough that he managed to stick his foot between the door and the door frame. Frustrated due to my bottled up emotions, I asked helplessly, "What do you want? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Not bothering to answer me, he pushed the door open in one go, entered my safe haven and shut the door behind him. A sob threatened to escape my throat in sheer annoyance and ire, but he stopped it with his next questions. "You are going away? What do you mean by that?" he asked, looking at me with a confused frown on his face.

A humorless laugh escaped my lips as I took steps towards him to tell him that I wasn't intimidated by him. "I'm done with telling tales to you! Didn't I just say that I'm done with you? If it wasn't clear to you, I don't mind repeating myself, 'I, Liana Moore, am done with you, Ashton Parker'."

"No, you're not!"

The conviction in his tone spiked my anger. "Yes, I am! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to show faith in someone and knowing that that faith had been completely one sided? To foolishly believe that there was some sort of friendship between two people and then finding out that the other was never true? It hurts, Ashton. It's like every man in my life has some sort of trust issues. My father broke my mother's trust, Nolan broke mine, and you..." I paused as a sob broke through my lips, and I observed that in my attempt to prove that I was not intimidated by him anymore, I was now standing way too close to him, so close that I had to look up to see his face. His stubble had grown back and for weak moment, I wanted to graze his chin to smoothen the frown that was covering his beautiful face. I wanted to erase the worry from his eyes and see his playful side, even if it was at my expense. His distraught expressions made me want to rewind the time and take all my words back. The girl in me who had grown to love him hated me for being so harsh towards him. The frown didn't suit his handsome face and I cursed myself for being the cause of it.

My mind on the other hand, shouted at me for being plain foolish. Wasn't he the cause of my sorrows right now? I had every right to make him feel like this.

A sob finally broke through my throat at the awful mess in my head. I stepped back in haste and stopped saying whatever I was about to say. I couldn't do this. I just wanted to be alone. Shaking my head, I turned around with slumped shoulders, ready to lock myself in my room. If he wanted to stay the night here in my living room, he could do that. I didn't mind. I just didn't want to talk to him. I was tired of these messed up, confused feelings.

"And me? What did I do, Liana?" he asked in a low voice.

A humorless chuckle escaped my lips at his question and without turning around, I wiped the tear that had managed to reach my cheek. Once I was done with that task, I turned to look at him again. "You didn't break my trust, Ashton. You just broke me by not trusting me," I answered in a whisper as I was suddenly extremely tired of fighting and yelling.

His jaw clenched tightly at my reply and he looked away from me. My heart dropped, yet again, as I took that as a sign of agreement to my accusations. Before my tear glands went out of control, I turned towards my bedroom and started walking.

"I was a stupid, shy, scared kid who knew nothing about the world other than the fact that people take drugs to survive. Well, that's what my parents did and they actually didn't survive." I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around to face him as he started his story. "Priscilla and Ryan adopted me on Priscilla's insistence. She couldn't bear to see her twin sister's son going to an orphanage. But for Ryan..." A humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he stared at me and continued, "...I was always the son of 'two f*cked up drug addicts'. He tried his best to keep Dylan away from me, but he failed terribly. Dylan was a great elder brother to me; always trying to bring me out of my shell, making me play with his friends, teaching me football because he loved to play, protecting me when I was bullied in school for being the shy weird kid who walked around with his head bent low."

Even after listening to all this, I couldn't imagine Ashton even close to what he was describing himself as. For me, he was strong, confident, a huge jerk, a pervert who didn't have the word 'nice' in his dictionary, the guy for whom being shy was foreign, the guy who didn't have any care in the world, and who kept his head high no matter what. It was like he was talking about some other boy; a boy I didn't know.

"Priscilla and Dylan became important to me, you know," he said with a sad smile. "I became used to them. Ryan's often cold attitude had bothered me in the beginning, so I tried to prove to him that I was not the son of 'two f*cked up drug addicts'. I was his and Priscilla's son. I was what their teachings made me. That's probably one of the reasons of my shyness. There was too much in my mind going on that I didn't have time to talk with other people. I had to prove so much to them. I wanted to show that they hadn't made a mistake by adopting me. I studied hard, topped every time. I painted in my spare time and won competitions. I played football just like Dylan had, to prove that I was a part of their happy family, but whatever I did, I failed. I guess, my efforts were never enough for him." He shrugged while I stared at him in silence, taking in every word he was saying. I couldn't afford to miss anything.

"Ryan always wanted Dylan to go to Harvard and be a lawyer. But Dylan was not interested. He had his dreams and he followed them. Ryan let him do that, but I caught the sadness on his face when Dylan had first refused to study law. That expression got stuck in my head and I worked harder. It was my chance to prove that I was his son and if Dylan couldn't fulfill his dreams, I could. He wanted to see his son as a lawyer and I wanted him to see me. I still remember the day I got accepted at Harvard. The proud smile that he had always directed towards Dylan was, for the first time, directed towards me. He hugged me for the first time in years. While Priscilla had always managed to give me a mother's love, I had always longed for a father, and in that moment, I felt as if that void had been filled." I watched, mesmerized, at the little smile that was fixed on his face as he narrated his story to me as if he was in some sort of trance, recalling every moment.

"That night Dylan and I celebrated both of my wins - first, my admission in Harvard, and second, me getting a fatherly hug for the first time. But the night didn't turn out like we had expected it to be. Dylan was completely out of his senses, while I hadn't drunk much as one of us had to be sober for driving back. In the bar, he got into some fight with some guys who, somehow managed to keep some drugs in my car. I think that was when I had unlocked the car and Dylan vomited in the parking lot. So I had to take care of him and I forgot about the car. Next morning, the cops came over and said that someone had filed a complaint that Dylan deal in drugs and they had seen us doing that at a bar last night. Our rooms were searched, of course, they found nothing. But then they searched our cars, and they found drugs under the seats."

An inaudible gasp escaped my lips and I covered my mouth with my hands. His twisted mouth was enough to tell me that he hated the parts that followed his story and because of that I wanted him to stop. But, I could also see the slight relief in his eyes at saying all this out loud, and for that I wanted him to continue.

"Obviously, we were all shocked and we knew that it wasn't true. They were about to arrest Dylan, but Ryan saved him."

A huge lump formed in my throat, but I managed to say, "By putting the blame on you?"

His eyes snapped towards me and his lips twisted in a sad smile. "Of course, it was my car after all, so everything in me belonged to me. I took the blame as I thought that was the only way of repaying Dylan for everything he had done for me since I had stepped inside their home. The best part was that even Priscilla didn't do anything to save me at that time. He was after all her own son, and not her twin's son. And I was nothing but the son of two f*cked up drug addicts. Apparently, dealing and doing drugs was in my genes."

"Oh Ashton." A sob threatened to escape from my lips as I thought how he must have felt at that terrible moment. Abandoned - there no other word to describe his state.

He shook his head, asking me not to feel sorry for him. "I was fine with it, you know. I wanted to do that for Dylan. I was sent to a juvenile until I was proved innocent with Dylan's help. But when I returned, I was blamed for every f*cking thing that happened. The media noticed Ryan's cold attitude towards me at every event we attended and came up with every possible story to prove their point of a sour relationship between a father and son. I was named a drug addict, a rapist, a murderer and what not. I was degraded not only in the media, but in that house as well. Ryan's behavior, even after Dylan's explanation of the fight of that night was nothing but cold. That one proud smile and one hug had disappeared somewhere. I stopped caring, you know? In all honesty, I didn't even want that now. I didn't want to prove anything to anybody. Those few months had taught me enough. I didn't go to Harvard, it was never my dream to begin with. I realized, very late, that it was time for me start living my life without thinking about Ryan, Priscilla and Dylan. And that's what I did."

I couldn't stop myself from saying, "You pursued your passion."

He smiled at me, his beautiful genuine smile. "Yes. I stayed in my room, going out only for a job I had got as football coach for little kids in a nearby local school and focused on my paintings. Two years later, when I had saved enough, I left them and put all my energy into making myself happier. The rumors never stopped and I never cared. It was easier to let people guess than to give clarifications. I met the right people, travelled to the right places and soon, I was famous."

Without pondering much about my actions, I stepped towards him and hugged him, knowing that a hug could sort out things and charge a low person. "I'm so sorry, Ashton," I whispered as I cried in his sorrow.

He hugged me back and I felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled to himself and said, "I was always right. You're an idiot."

Dismissing his comment, I pulled back from the hug and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "But are you truly happy now?" I asked, worried about him. Didn't he miss his family? But which family; the family that abandoned him when he was a kid or the family that abandoned him for their own son?

He stared at me for a moment as the smile wiped off of his face. In a low whisper, he answered, "I was. . . until an hour ago."

My eyes widened at his confession and I stared back at him. Did he mean what I thought he meant? Before I could give any kind of input to him, he continued, "I didn't tell you any of this because I thought that you would run away."

A little smile made its way to my face despite of my tear filled eyes. "But I'm here, aren't I?"

His lips curled up in a smirk; the smirk that I had missed so much. "Well, where would you have run away to? We are in your apartment; it was a safe bet for me."

Rolling my eyes at him, I challenged him, "Want to repeat this in the hallway or the roadside or your apartment? Unfortunately for you, I would have still been there with you . . . always."

This time, his smirk faded as he stared at me with his intense eyes. Realizing that I had said more than enough in the past hour than I had said in the last thirteen days as my emotions were taking a control over my tongue, I apologized to him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, Ashton. It was selfish of me." It was horribly selfish on my part. I loathed myself for whatever had happened in the past hour and I wanted to undo everything.

He shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry, Liana. I know I've been nothing but an ass to you since we have met. It was selfish on my part to know everything about you but never share my stories. I just didn't want you to go." My eyes widened, my heart throbbed in my rib cage at his confession, but he continued, "You have become a habit."

Breathless at the turn of events, I managed to ask in a whisper, "Good or bad?"

He shrugged in reply and said, "Go and sleep, Liana."

I protested. "But, I want to talk. There is so much I want to know. You've still not introduced Mr. Bingley in your story."

He smiled slightly. "I'm here, sleeping on the couch. We'll talk in the morning, I promise."

Realizing that there was no room for any further discussion, I decided to follow his advice. Both of us needed some rest. I nodded my head. "Good night, Ashton." Reluctantly, I turned around to walk towards my bedroom.

"Liana!" he called and I turned abruptly to look back at him.

"Yes?"

"Just so you know, I never wanted to make you feel so betrayed. I'm sorry."

"Sure." I smiled and turned around.

"Liana!" he called again.

"Yes?" I answered, after turning around.

"That night at Priscilla's party, I had told you that the painting was made by Darcy. By Darcy, I meant me. I'm always Darcy whenever he picks up Pride and Prejudice." He rolled his eyes at the end after saying the entire sentence in seriousness, and a huge smile covered my face. He had told me, but I was clueless about it.

"Yes, you had." Biting my lips, I turned around to enter my room.

"Liana!" He stopped me yet again.

Light laughter escaped my lips and I asked after turning around, "What Ashton?"

He smiled a little and said, "Anger doesn't suit you. Sorry to have bothered you."

Now, I was smiling from ear to ear. "It's okay, Ashton."

Nodding, he told me, "Go and sleep now. It's getting late."

"Yeah, yeah. Good night," I said, rolling my eyes at his hypocrisy and turning back to enter my room.

"Liana!"

"What now?" I turned around, chuckling at his absurd behavior.

He smirked. "Good night."

This time, instead of replying, I glared at him, though my traitor lips stretched in a huge smile. Shaking my head, I turned around to enter my bedroom, when he called me yet again. "Liana!"

I turned around abruptly this time and asked in a playful manner, "What Ashton? What's up with you? Are you okay? Oh, you are drunk, aren't you? What is it?"

In reply to all mu questions, he smiled his dazzling smile and asked, leaning against the wall, "You do know that I like you, right?"

With that, he successfully managed to wipe off the playful smile from my face as my heart skipped a beat, my breath got stuck in my lungs, my legs refused to move, my reflexes failed, and my heart was in my throat.

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A/N

A rather long chapter, making up for my absence. Love Is... crossed 30,000 Votes. Yayy! Thank you to all who take out time & vote for Liana & Ashton's story. :)

Expected any part of this chapter? I hope not. :D

Tell me how it was? Liked it? Hate it? Love it? Isn't Ashton amazing? Like really! Oh, and I loved his last stunt. What about you? :D

STOP ASKING FOR UPDATES! It gets highly annoying. I update whenever I'm done with a chapter, so seriously, there is no use of ordering me to update. How can I do that when I'm not done writing a chapter? My readers from AWMA days, should know that I've always been a regular updater. But, in this story, I'm not. There must be reasons for the same, right? Yes, there are many reasons. Please be patient and I don't reply to messages asking me to update. :D

Love, Raima! <3 :)