Sweet Hatred
Chapter 192: Not The Same

Chapter 192: Not The Same

I looked at her. Really looked.

And that’s when I saw it.

Something quiet in her expression. Not pity. Not pain. But... peace.

And it hit me like a slap.

She’s already forgiven him.

The thought slammed into me, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I blinked hard, trying to shake it off. No. I was imagining things. Reading too much into the way her eyes looked softer than mine. That couldn’t be right. Couldn’t be.

I yanked my wrist free.

"We don’t have to waste our time with this," I muttered, grabbing my bag again.

Olivia didn’t budge.

"Maybe he’s really changed," she said gently, like she was trying not to startle me. "People can. Sometimes."

"Not him," I snapped. "Don’t you dare try to paint him as human. Not after everything he—"

A knock Interrupted me.

The door creaked open and a young woman peeked in, wearing a plain shirt with the shelter’s logo stitched into the breast pocket.

"Mr. Thorne? Sorry, I’ve been looking for you. We need someone to help with lunch distribution, and the kids are asking for story time again, if you’re free."

He stood up immediately.

His eyes flicked to us, me, then Olivia, then back to the girl.

"Of course," he said. "I’ll be right there."

And just like that, he walked out. No dramatic last looks. No pleading. Just a quiet exit.

I should’ve felt relief. I didn’t.

Silence stretched again between me and Olivia. A thin, awkward thread.

She turned toward me, arms folded, voice low. "You saw him. You saw how he looked at you. That wasn’t some act, Aria. He’s... not the same."

I scoffed. "You really believe that."

"I want to believe it," she said, voice cracking. "Is that so wrong? After all we’ve been through... don’t you want to believe he could be sorry? Don’t you miss what we could have been?"

"No," I said coldly. "I don’t."

We stared at each other. Old wounds bleeding in the silence.

And then Olivia reached for my hand again.

"Come with me."

I hesitated.

"Please."

I let her pull me.

Out of that quiet room, into the narrow hall, and then further into the heart of the shelter.

And there he was.

Sitting cross-legged on a faded mat, surrounded by kids. Holding a book with bent pages, reading with that same damn voice I remembered screaming through walls. Except now it was soft. Measured. Warm.

The kids were laughing.

They clung to his legs like vines.

He passed a plate to a small girl with messy braids and wiped crumbs from her chin like he’d done it a thousand times.

I froze.

My body locked in place.

Because for the first time in years... I didn’t know what I was looking at.

The monster?

Or a man pretending not to be one?

I watched him.

My arms were folded tight across my chest, nails digging into my elbows like they could hold me together. But it was pointless. My insides were unraveling with every laugh those kids let out. Every story he told. Every soft pat on the back or gentle smile.

Everything I ever needed.

Everything I begged for.

He was giving it away now, like it cost him nothing.

And the kids? They adored him. They didn’t know who he really was. They didn’t know he had once raised his voice so loud it made the walls shake, raised his hands like thunder, made my mother cry until her voice broke. They didn’t know he vanished after inflicting pain and years of trauma on us, how he chose fear, then absence, over redemption.

He didn’t hold me like that. Or Olivia. Or Mom.

He didn’t protect us. I learnt to do that myself.

I stared as he let one of the boys climb into his lap. As he whispered something that made the child giggle and bury his face in his shirt.

Something in me cracked.

My throat burned, eyes stinging.

"He should’ve stayed dead," I whispered, voice shaking. "He should’ve stayed a ghost. Instead of showing me this."

Olivia stiffened beside me.

"Aria—"

But she couldn’t finish.

A warm, bright voice rang out from the far end of the room.

"Olivia?"

Both of us turned.

A tall man was approaching, maybe mid-thirties, sleeves rolled up and holding a clipboard. Broad smile. Bright face. Bright tone.

"I didn’t think you’d be back so soon," he said, eyes twinkling. "Didn’t you say it’d be weeks before you visited your dad again?"

My blood froze in my veins.

The word stuck like glass behind my ribs.

Again.

Visited.

Again.

I turned slowly to Olivia.

But she was already looking at the floor, shifting uncomfortably in her stance.

And just like that, the world tilted sideways. First it was mom, but now Olivia too?

"You’ve been here?" My voice was cold. Flat.

Olivia didn’t respond right away. The man who greeted her was now chatting casually, not sensing the storm brewing.

"I asked you a question," I snapped.

Olivia met my eyes. Swallowed hard. "Aria, I didn’t know how to tell you—"

"Since when?"

Silence.

That was the answer.

"I didn’t know how to tell you," Olivia said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear anything.

"You didn’t know how to tell me?" I repeated, scoffing. "That you’ve been visiting him? That you’ve been coming back to this place, listening to his voice like it ever said anything that wasn’t laced with poison?"

He tried to step forward then, voice soft. "Aria, please—"

"Don’t." I shot my hand up without even looking at him. "Open your mouth again and I’ll scream loud enough to bring the police and God together."

He stilled.

People around us were starting to notice. A few staff members glanced over with confused expressions. Some of the kids had stopped playing. I saw their little eyes darting to us with uncertainty, fear. The same fear I knew all too well.

Fuck.

I couldn’t breathe.

I turned sharply on my heel and stormed out the front doors of the shelter, my hands clenched into fists, rage pouring off me in hot, pulsing waves.

"Aria—Aria, wait!" Olivia chased after me.

I didn’t stop until we were well outside, the morning sun doing nothing to warm the ice in my veins. I spun around, teeth gritted, and snapped, "When? When did this start?"

She flinched at the sound of my voice.

"How long have you been seeing him?"