The Sweetest Temptation
Chapter 190: Regrets

Chapter 190: Regrets

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks since he had walked away from Beatrix’s life.

He only lasted two days before he caved and had to call her, but she never answered. Each day, and night, she never answered.

Why the fuck couldn’t he just tell her? Why did he panic?

Well he knows why, he didn’t think he deserved her not after everything. It was better to let her go rather than hurt her all over again, she deserves better.

He was scared. He was fucking terrified. He was a coward.

Three weeks felt like an eternity. The weight of his decision hung heavy on his chest, reminding him of the void he had created in his own life.

He replayed their last conversation in his mind, the way her voice had cracked with vulnerability as she asked if everything had been a lie. And he had lied, unable to face the truth or confront his own insecurities.

The days blurred together, a monotonous routine that offered no solace. Sleep evaded him, and when it did come, it brought nightmares that taunted him with what he had lost.

The guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, tearing at the frayed edges of his already fragile heart. He longed for her forgiveness, for the chance to make things right, but he feared it was too late.

God, he misses her so much it hurts.

He spent hours staring at his phone, willing it to ring, hoping against hope that she would call. But each passing day only deepened the void of her absence. The silence between them had become a suffocating presence, a constant reminder of his own cowardice.

When she asked him if everything had been a lie, what went through his head and what came out of his mouth were two completely different things.

He had said yes. But damn those moments together were everything to him.

The teasing, her shy smile, her blushing and

her awkward babbling.

He wanted that smile she gets when she was genuinely happy, the one that scrunches the corners of her eyes and she always has to laugh.

The past few months with her have meant more to him than his entire life did. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything that made him feel the way she did.

He fucked it all up, though. He absolutely ruined it all.

He wished he could have shown her everything from his point of view, a lot of it was him being willfully ignorant and he was just in a state of shock.

But now all he had were memories, memories that mocked him for his inability to hold onto something so precious. He had let his fear dictate his actions, and now he was left with nothing but regrets.

He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her voice, never feeling the warmth of her embrace. It was a constant ache, a void that consumed his thoughts and left him feeling empty.

It made him nauseous thinking about it. The days he spent trying to snap himself out of it and convince himself it wasn’t as serious as it was when he knew damn well he was a complete goner with her.

All he had done for two weeks was cycle between staring at her pictures and then playing over in his head what happened, everything he should have said and everything that she did say. It replayed over and over again.

He obsesses and overanalyzes every single detail. Every emotion he feels happens over again, getting worse each time.

The guilt and regret eat him alive. He wishes he could take back what he said, it wasn’t what he meant.

His mind was a battlefield, torn between longing and self-deprecation. He couldn’t escape the haunting question that echoed in his mind: Did he truly believe that everything between them was a lie?

No, he knew deep down that it wasn’t. He had allowed his own insecurities and fears to cloud his judgment, pushing away the one person who had brought him genuine happiness. The pain of his own actions cut deeper than any external wound ever could.

On one hand, he yearned for her forgiveness and the chance to make amends. On the other hand, he believed he had already done irreparable damage, and the thought of facing her again terrified him. The fear of rejection, the fear of facing his own shortcomings, it all weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Yet he couldn’t help but get worried thinking about if she’s okay. Was she eating? Was she sleeping? Was she having nightmares? Was she getting hugs when she needed them?

... Did she miss him ?

All these years he had been waiting for that day all his life and when he had finally achieved it he realized everything had been a lie and when she asked him if anything was real he realised that how he felt didn’t matter because he had already fucked it up... he had only shut off even more.

He felt cornered, and he felt overwhelmed. He ran from the discomfort. He hid his tail between his legs. He became defensive.

He was not as brave as her. He was not as strong.

His door opened and he turned to see Damien standing at the entrance.

"Fuck what the hell happened? It smells awful here. You were not picking up my calls. I was worried so I came here. What happened?"

Damien’s words hung in the air, his questions demanding answers. Rhys took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. The room was filled with a pungent smell, a combination of sweat, stale air, and something else that Rhys couldn’t quite place.

He hadn’t noticed it until now, perhaps becoming accustomed to the odorous atmosphere in his despair.

"Damien, I..." Rhys’ voice faltered, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to gather his thoughts. "I’m sorry for not picking up your calls. I didn’t know how to explain... what happened."