The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

34. NEWNESS

Chapter dedication goes to @JosefinaCervantes363 and Amaka_ue

The house scented the same as it did before she left. Minty, woody and manly. 

Orla had never had plans to remake the fragrances, but now it occurred to her to probably add something feminine to compliment the strong manly scent that subjugated the whole house.

"We are back." Callan proclaimed, lowering her hospital bag on the divan close to the spot Orla stood. Her eyes prowled the living room, nothing had changed. It'd been two days and she found it weird that she wanted something to change.

He smiled at her, but she returned a scowl. Her dingy countenance disturbed Callan. He overlooked it and smiled again, "Here, sit." He pointed his hand at the couch close to her.

She hesitated before finally settling down. She took another cursory look around the room, a billow of irritation assailing her chest. She was so easy to forgive him. It shouldn't be so.

"What now?" She begrudgingly asked.

"We are home." His long arms drew a descriptive circle, showing the house to Orla.

"I know that." 

A long silence emanated from her cold response. When Callan didn't say anything, she folded her arms around her chest and glanced at him where he stood, staring at her.

"Isn't it strange that you are excited to have me back home when all you've ever desired is for me to leave your house."

"Orla." He dubbed gently. Remorse smacking him. She wasn't wrong, but he was willing to change now. He just needed a chance. "I," he stumbled, violently rubbing his chin. "I thought we were over this. We settled it all before coming home, didn't we?"

"Oh," she scoffed. "You think sorry solves everything, don't you? Your insincere apology didn't solve a thing?" She lashed at him, resentment clearly visible in her eyes.

Callan loathed that look, "My apology isn't insincere, Orla! I said I was sorry because I truly was. What else do you want me to do?" He raised his voice a little louder but quickly lowered it when he glimpsed her sad eyes. "Orla," he tried to touch her, but she frantically fended off.

"Sorry doesn't fix everything, Callan. I had to act along with you at the hospital because I wanted to leave so badly. I was tired of it all and just wanted to come back home even though it's hell here. What do you know about me? Do you even know why I hate hospitals so much? You say sorry, can sorry heal the scar that you've etched on my body with your words? Is it so easy to let go and just forget the nasty things that you've said and done to me?"

She was struggling inside of her, but he had hurt her so much and letting go so easily was too hard to do.

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She consoled herself that she was strong and would not break down in front of Callan anymore. He had matched on her because she was fragile and she wanted to break free from that shell she'd hid herself for years.

Callan was lost for words. He stood there in front of her and dug his nails into his hair, gently ruffling.

"You said that you wanted me to cook for you and that was why I brought you home." He said, looking into her eyes. He was confused and didn't know what to start with. 

"I do not need that." She yelled, the tears threatening to fall if she raised her voice a little louder than she just did.

"You needed that at the hospital." He mumbled. "Orla, you forgave me. You did."