Chapter 18. Some Wounds Never Heal

Athena

“Distressed,” I repeat, and I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes. If only he knew. If only he understood that the distress isn’t from the dream itself, but from waking up and losing it.

I push my hair back from my face, trying to gather my composure, but my hands are shaking slightly. The dream felt so real, his touch, his words, the way he looked at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted.

“No, not distressed. Just… weird dreams, you know? Nightmares about… London”

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it’s easier than the truth. Easier than admitting I was dreaming about him in ways that would make him see me as pathetic. Again.

Tristan’s expression immediately shifts to one of concern, and I hate myself for using my trauma as a shield. But I can’t tell him the truth.

I can’t handle seeing that look of uncomfortable pity in his eyes, the same look he gave me five years ago when he realized what I thought was happening bet