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This time she does take a step back, looking up at me with a fierce expression. “You think I’m not in the exact same position? When you left me, it nearly killed me. I was so fucking lost, I didn’t know how to carry on. I’ve never been able to trust since, and I’ve never opened my heart to anyone else. So yes, you have the power to crush me all over again, and that’s fucking terrifying, but for the first time in ten years, I’m willing to take the chance.”

My brain is working a mile a minute, trying to break down everything she’s saying. There’s a fucking elated side of me that is drowning in all the perfect words, telling me to be brave along with my angel and give it a chance. But then there’s the logical part of my brain that’s fucking confused as shit by what she’s saying.

“What do you mean, I broke your heart? You’re the one who fucking left me. You can’t then turn around and claim I’m the one who hurt you,” I snap, all the emotions I felt a decade ago suddenly come rushing back.

“I left you? I may have left, but you were supposed to come with me and you didn’t!” she yells, startling us both. We’re bothwearing matching confused expressions, and I don’t even know where the hell to begin.

“What? I’m so fucking confused right now,” I say, dragging my hand down my face in frustration.

“I was waiting for you at the train station, like we agreed. I waited, and you never showed up. Then your dad arrived to give me the fucking letter you wrote, because you were too much of a fucking coward to give it to me yourself.” With each word, tears well up in her eyes, and I can see my own heartbreak reflected back.

“What did the letter say?” I ask, knowing full well I didn’t write her a fucking letter.

She tilts her head, looking at me suspiciously. Then again, asking her to tell me what the letter says when she thinks I wrote it probably does sound strange. Or maybe she thinks I’m getting her to recount it so I can hurt her more. I’m about to explain when she begins.

“You told me that you couldn’t leave with me, even though you wanted to. You’d realised that your family, and the responsibilities you had as an heir meant more to you than you initially thought.

“You said that running away was a childish fantasy you enjoyed talking about, but when it came down to it in real life, you couldn’t go through with it. You said that nobody meets their soulmate at fifteen, and very few people stay with their childhood sweethearts long-term.

“You told me that you enjoyed the time we had together, but now we both had to grow up, and that meant going our separate ways. You said you had changed your number and that I shouldn’t try to contact you, as a clean break would be easier on us both.”

As soon as she finishes, tears are streaming down her face, and my heart is broken all over again. How could she thinkI would ever say that shit? I would never write her such an impersonal letter, let alone a fucking break-up letter. How could she ever believe that was me?

Then again, I can’t really talk as I believed she wrote me a letter, and it’s starting to look like that may not have been real either.

“I’m guessing you didn’t write me a letter then?”

Her brow furrows. “What? When?”

“I’m thinking, given the timeline, I probably received your letter first, and that’s what stopped me from going to the train station that day,” I reply, my throat thick with emotion.

“You’re saying you didn’t write the letter I got, but instead, you got one from me?” she asks, sounding just as confused as I am. When I nod, she asks, “What did my letter say?”

“Basically, it said you didn’t want me to come with you. You told me you hated the life I lived, and knew that no matter what life we created for ourselves at university, in the end, I would still move back to take over from Father. You said it was better to end it now than to get a taste of what our lives could be like, only for me to leave you in the end.

“You told me you’d already left, after getting an earlier train, so there would be no point in chasing you—I was going to chase you until I read that. You told me you’d changed your number, and had organised a new flat, so I wouldn’t know where you were staying. You said it would be easier for both of us if we cut all contact.

“I remember the last line by heart, as it’s the one that still features in my nightmares. ‘Sometimes two people can love each other, and it’s still not enough. I will never be enough’.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, a sob rips from her throat and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. My own eyes start to mist, as I finally take in everything we’ve both just said.

“You didn’t break up with me?” she whispers, tears streaming down her face.

I shake my head. “No, and you never left me?”

She clamps her eyes shut tight, trying to get control of her tears as she shakes her head in return. “Why? I mean, how?”

Her words trail off, but I know what she’s trying to say. “I think the better question here would be who?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, before her eyes darken when she comes to the same realisation that I have. “Your dad? He did this?”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to hold back the pure fucking unadulterated rage I feel towards Desmond right now. “It has to be him. He gave you the letter from me, and I would guess he arranged for me to find the letter you apparently left. He’s the only person who benefitted from us being forced apart.”

Tee takes a shuddered breath, clawing back a little bit of her control as she turns those fucking gorgeous grey eyes on me, looking up at me through hooded lashes. “Would you have left with me if he hadn’t interfered?”

Her voice sounds so small, and I hate that she doesn’t already know the answer to this question.

“Of course I would have left with you, Angel. There was nothing I wanted more, and I hate that we didn’t believe in each other enough to question those fucking letters. There’s no version of this world where I didn’t want to be with you,” I growl.