Desired by All and He Threw Away 79

Chapter 79 

Taylor’s POV 

Silence should fade. It should thin out, soften, loosen its grip.But this silence doesn’t. 

It grows teeth. 

the backlash hasnt slowed- its mutated spreading across the internet like wildfire that refuses to burn out.no matter how many posts i scroll past how many replies i mute Aiden’s name keeps appearing dragged through every corner of every feed. 

Every whisper. 

Every headline. 

Every stranger with a keyboard thinks they understand him. 

Ella’s accusation has become its own living, breathing monster- feeding on sympathy outrage,grief or whatever emotion it can sink its claws into. 

even though my proof exposes Dylan’s manipulation it doesnt erase what people felt when her video first hit the internet.emotion has always been a louder speaker than truth. 

every time Aiden’s face surfaces online the miscarriage resurfaces with it screenshots slowed–down clips armchair psychologists analyzing the tremble in Ella’s voice and the stiffness in Aiden’s posture. 

they replay the live video in slow motion dissecting his expression his silence his absence. They don’t see the man behind the screen. 

Just the villain they’ve already decided he is. 

its past midnight when i finally find him. 

the living room is dim lit only by the soft glow of the city through the glass walls thousands of lights flickering like a world happening without us.the air feels stale stripped of warmth. Something missing. Something hollow. 

the television hums softly- muted paused on a still frame from a late night talk show where a host sits mid- sentence face frozen in judgment.Aiden sits in front of it elbows on his knees fingers loosely interlaced just staring at the blank wall above the TV as if its been whispering to him. 

his shoulders look heavier than the last time i saw him.his eyes usually sharp, steady are darker now. Emptier.the kind of tired that doesnt come from lack of sleep but from fighting battles that never let you put down your 

weapons. 

i linger by the doorway hands curling around the frame.he doesnt move.im not even sure he knows im there. “Aiden?” i breathe out. My voice sounds wrong in this room–too fragile, too small. 

he still doesnt look at me. 

you should say something,” i whisper stepping closer. “Anything.just… dont let them do this to you.” 

aslow blink.then he shakes his head and something in the motion makes my heart pinch. 

” 

words wont change what they already believe,” he murmurs.no bitterness. No anger. Just resignation–quiet and final. 

i move around the coffee table and lower myself into the chair across from him.the cushion sinks under me the space between us thick with everything he hasnt said. 

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Chapter 

+25 Bonus 

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you cant keep letting them define you,” i say barely above a whisper.my fingers lace tightly in my lap knuckles pale because if i let them move even an inch they will reach for him out of instinct out of fear out of love im not supposed to name. 

his jaw locks so sharply i hear the faint click of teeth.he stops breathing for a beat shoulders stiff as stone.then slowly he lifts his gaze to mine. 

i wish he hadnt. 

there is an emptiness there- wide, glassy, echoing like someone blew out the light behind his eyes and left the shell standing. 

“maybe they are right,” he murmurs. 

the words slam into me so hard my breath stutters a sharp ache blooming beneath my ribs. 

i open my mouth ready to argue ready to shake him until the weight drops from his shoulders until he remembers. he isnt the monster they decided he is that Ella isnt the only casualty in that twisted story. 

But I stop myself. i know this place he goes to the cold inner room where he stores his guilt and speaks to it like an old friend. 

So I stay.the silence stretches between us thick and unmoving.my heart feels too heavy for my chest my throat tight enough to bruise. 

he doesnt cry. doesnt unravel.he just sits there spine curved hands loose at his sides- like hes already surrendered to a version of himself painted by strangers with cruel confident strokes. 

eventually i push myself to my feet.as i pass him my fingertips skim the arm of the chair a small quiet touch a promise i hope he feels even if he cant believe it yet. 

later when i lie awake in bed sleep refuses to come.the silence in the apartment presses against my skin like something with weight.i stare at the ceiling replaying the look in his eyes over and over until it hurts to breathe. 

An idea forms slowly. Not a plan. Not a strategy. 

Something softer. 

Something human. 

Because the world doesn’t need receipts right now–not from him. 

They just need to remember he’s a person. 

And maybe… he needs that too. 

morning bleeds through the curtains in pale indifferent light.the apartment is quiet except for the faint clink of a mug against marble. 

Aiden stands in the kitchen hair messy sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder staring down at a cup of black coffee he clearly has no intention of drinking. The steam has already died. 

i step toward him each word already shaped carefully in my mind. 

“there is a community visit tomorrow,” i say. 

he glances up brows pulling tight.suspicion flickers in his eyes–old defensive instinctive. “What kind of visit?” 

” a children’s ward event at the hospital,” i explain gently.” they are raising awareness for the foundation.” 

he gives a slow humorless exhale. “Of course they are.” 

2/3 

Chapter 79 

+25 Bonus 

“It’s not press. It’s not an interview.” I keep my tone calm, grounded. “It’s just… meeting kids. Supporting the foundation. Showing up.” 

“and you think,” he says voice flat, ” that me showing up magically fixes everything?” 

“No.” i hold his gaze.i want him to see the truth in my face mot the internet’s version. ” but maybe it reminds people and you that youre not the monster they keep painting.” 

he leans back against the counter arms crossing over his chest.the posture looks protective not defensive.he searches my face and for once there is no carefully built mask. No public persona.just Aiden- bruised around the edges uncertain hurting. 

” and what if i dont want to be seen right now?” he asks quietly. “what if showing up makes it worse?” 

“It might,” I admit. “people will talk no matter what you do.” 

his gaze drops to the mug in his hands. “Then why go?” 

“because hiding isnt helping you,” i whisper. ” its swallowing you whole.” 

The words hang between us.he doesnt move.foesnt breathe.then slowly- so slowly- his shoulders lower the tension easing just enough for something fragile to slip through. 

(( you really think this will fix me?” he asks softly voice stripped bare. 

I step closer.not touching just near enough that he can feel im here. 

“i dont think youre broken,” i say. ” i think youre hurting.and maybe this wont fix anything. But it might help you start again.” 

he lets out a breath that trembles faintly at the end.his eyes lift to mine and for the first time in days there is something behind them–a flicker, a spark the faintest hint of a man trying to climb out of the rubble the world buried him under. 

he doesnt say yes.He doesn’t say no. 

But the silence between us shifts–lighter, almost patient. 

Not empty anymore. 

Just waiting. 

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