Whispers of the Past

Chapter Thirteen - Forgiveness Maybe?

THIRD PERSON'S POV :

Timothee wakes to the unfamiliar melody of Mexican birdsong filtering through the woven blinds. The cottage is warm and sun-drenched, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning in his gut.

For Timothee, however, the morning light held no warmth. He tossed restlessly, the echo of Atiye's silence heavier than the sheets tangled around him. The plane ride's revelation hung heavy in the air, a truth unspoken that stretched between them like an invisible wall.

He throws back the covers and pads towards the balcony, the cool morning air a slap against his heated skin. Below, the turquoise expanse of the ocean beckons, a world away from the storm brewing within him. He longs to apologize, to explain his reasons, but the words seem hollow, inadequate. What can he say that won't sound like an excuse?

He stole a glance at her room, the door was closed. He pictures Atiye curled up in her room, her beautiful face etched with disappointment. Did she stay awake all night, replaying his lie in her mind? Shame washes over him. The memory of her glistening eyes, the hurt etched on her beautiful face, pricked at his conscience. "It's always you who behaved like a stranger," her words replayed, each syllable a shard of guilt lodged in his heart.

He'd built their connection on a foundation of secrecy, fearing the truth would shatter it. Now, the tide had turned, leaving him exposed on the shifting sands of doubt. The silence pressing down on him like a physical weight. Should he knock on her door? Apologize again? But what could he say that wouldn't sound rehearsed, insincere?

He stepped outside of the room to check on her again. The door was open this time. Atiye was awake.

Atiye!

There she was, bathed in the soft dawn light, fingers dancing across the guitar strings. Her back was to him, a shield against the storm he'd created.

He watched her play, lost in the music. It was a song he knew, its lyrics now reflecting his turmoil:

"And the space between us, filled with unspoken things..."

The final note faded, leaving a haunting silence. Timothee knew he couldn't stay on the sidelines anymore. He cleared his throat, the sound grating in the stillness.

"Atiye?"

She turned, her eyes was reflecting a thousand of emotions - hurt, confusion, and something else he couldn't decipher. A flicker of vulnerability mirrored his own, drawing him in.

"I can explain," he started, his voice husky with emotion. "Why I kept it quiet, why I pushed you away."

"I don't want your explaination. It was wrong of you to keep things hidden, Timothee. But it's okay. I understand why you did it, there is also a lots of unspoken memories I never share. But yet, I just wish you had trusted me enough to share that simple truth."

Relief washed over him, mingled with a pang of regret. He had hurt her, the one this Curtis told him not to! But at least they were facing it together, no longer strangers under the Mexican sun.

"I can't erase what happened," Timothee said, "but I'm willing to listen. If you want to talk to me, I'll be there for you."

"

Thanks.." Atiye kinda whispered.

His gaze held her for a long moment, then he met her hand halfway. A hesitant smile played on her lips, fragile but beautiful.

As the sun climbed higher, bathing them in its golden light, they sat on the balcony. The journey ahead wouldn't be easy, but they were facing it together, their truth paving the way for a new beginning.