Page 41 of Muse (The Forbidden Hearts #1)

SOPHIE

I ’m so lost in Theo, wrapped up in his kiss, in the warmth of his arms, the quiet hush of the world around us fading into nothing, that I don’t hear the voices.

Or the footsteps.

Not until it’s too late.

A sudden force jerks me backward. I’m yanked from Theo’s lap like a rag-doll, the air punched from my lungs as I hit the floor hard, the backs of my thighs scraping against the cold tile. Pain shoots up my spine, but it doesn’t register. Not with the panic flooding through my body like ice water.

Theo’s eyes go wide. He’s out of his seat in an instant, reaching for me, but then she’s there.

My mother.

She shoves herself between us with such ferocity it knocks the breath from my lungs all over again.

“What the fuck—” Theo starts, voice low and sharp, but he doesn’t finish.

Because he’s cut off by my father’s voice, heavy with disgust.

“You must be Theo.”

I whip around. My hands scramble against the floor to push myself upright, heart pounding in my ears. Behind him, I spot Sal, frozen in the doorway. Her face is ghost-white. Terrified. I don’t know if she saw them coming, or if they caught her as off guard as they did me, but it doesn’t matter.

My world is cracking apart at the seams.

My parents.

Here.

Theo.

Me.

Kissing.

Everything feels slow and fast all at once, like I’m underwater, drowning in disbelief.

My father storms past me, rage rolling off him in waves. I throw myself to my feet, desperate to stop him, to intercept him before he?—

Crack

A sickening, hollow sound tears through the room like a gunshot.

I freeze. My breath catches in my throat and my mouth drops open in horror as Theo reels back slightly, blood blooming at the corner of his mouth.

My father just hit him.

He hit him.

Theo sways, just for a second, but stays upright.

He doesn’t fall.

He doesn’t run.

Theo stays on his feet, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. He doesn’t flinch again. Doesn’t lash out. But his entire body vibrates with tension.

“You’re lucky I’m not returning the favor,” he says quietly.

His voice is steady, but just barely.

He takes a breath, then steps forward. His eyes don’t leave my father’s .

“Not because I couldn’t, but because she deserves better than that. She deserves better than more violence.”

Then he looks at me. Just for a second.

And it guts me.

“I’ve never forced her. Never touched her without her consent. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t seek her out. But I love her. And she saved me.”

His voice catches just a beat, before he swallows it down.

“She’s not a child. She’s not some victim. She is the strongest person I’ve ever met. And I would never do anything to hurt her.”

My throat burns.

“She’s eighteen,” my mother spits. “You’re a predator.”

“I’m not a child!” I shout, shoving past her with more strength than I thought I had. “I love him. I chose him. I chased him .”

But Theo looks at me again, and this time, I see it.

The fear and the heartbreak. His decision is already made.

He’s going to let them end this.

“Theo,” I breathe, and my voice breaks in half. “Please.”

My mother turns on me like a snake, her face twisted in rage. Her perfume fills my lungs, choking me.

“You’re throwing your life away for what? You want to be used up like some cheap little toy? I am ashamed to call you my daughter.”

The words hit harder than a slap and shame burns through me like acid.

Theo takes a step forward. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

But my father is in front of him again, solid and immovable.

“You don’t get to tell us how to speak to our daughter,” he growls.

“You don’t get to breathe near her. If you care about her at all, you’ll walk away.

Because if you don’t, I’ll bury you. I’ll take this story everywhere.

The police. The school board. The press.

I’ll make sure you’re never trusted to teach or work again. Anywhere.”

Theo doesn’t blink or back down.

“You don’t scare me,” he says evenly. “But the idea of her suffering because of me? That does.”

His voice breaks, just barely. Just enough to convey the pain wracking through him.

“So if you think I’m giving up because I’m ashamed, you’re wrong. I’m walking away, for now, because I love her.”

He looks at me, and I swear it breaks something in both of us.

“Enough to let her hate me, if it means she gets out of this house in one piece.”

It knocks the air right out of my lungs. I can’t breathe.

“No,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “No, please. Theo, please. Don’t listen to them. Don’t leave me. Don’t let them take you from me?—”

My words dissolve into a scream. A guttural, agonized, broken sound that echoes through the room and lodges in my throat like glass. I sob. Uncontrollable, wrenching sobs that shake my whole body.

Theo meets my eyes one last time. Just one.

And then he lowers his gaze to the ground.

And I know.

In that single, silent second.

I’ve lost him.

Forever.

I clutch at my chest, the pain blooming deep and sharp beneath my ribs, like my insides are clawing their way out, unable to stand the heartbreak. My father yanks my arm, dragging me toward the car. I stumble behind him, crying so hard I can barely see.

Sal is still frozen in the doorway, her lips parted. She mouths something, I don’t know what. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

I reach into my pocket, desperate and hoping, maybe he texted me, maybe he’s already trying to fix this, but my mother’s hand is faster. She rips it from mine like it’s a weapon.

“You won’t be getting this back anytime soon,” she says, her voice full of disgust.

And just like that, the last tether is cut.

I look back over my shoulder, hoping, praying, that Theo will look at me again. That he’ll reach out, say something, fight.

But he doesn’t.

His eyes never leave the ground.

Then the darkness swallows us, and he’s gone.

The drive home is silent except for the sound of me falling apart in the backseat.

Each bump in the road rattles through my bones, cracking me open from the inside out.

I cry the whole way. Ugly, heaving sobs that I can’t control.

It’s not even crying anymore. It’s keening.

It’s breaking. My head pounds. My stomach twists.

I press my forehead to the cold window, gagging on the lump in my throat.

I think I might throw up.

I kind of hope I do.

I disassociate. Leave my body behind. But it doesn’t stop the tears. They pour down my face, hot and endless, as if some part of me still knows exactly how shattered I am.

When the car jerks to a stop, I don’t move.

My mother opens the door and grabs my wrist, yanking me to my feet. I keep my eyes down, locked on the concrete. It’s the only way I can stay standing.

Inside, the door slams behind us like the final nail in a coffin. Sealing me shut forever in my tomb .

My father disappears into his study and slams the door so hard, the walls rattle.

“I don’t have the energy to deal with you tonight,” my mother mutters. “Go to your room. I don’t want to see your face again until morning.”

I nod. Wordless and empty. Nothing left to give.

I drag myself up the stairs, each step harder than the last. My feet shuffle like they’ve forgotten how to move. My body is heavy and uncooperative. Like I’m carrying a corpse inside me.

Maybe I am.

When I reach my room, I collapse into bed without even changing clothes. I pull the blanket over me and curl into myself, like the blanket can keep me from shattering completely.

But it doesn’t.

I cry until there’s nothing left. Until my body goes still with grief, like I’ve cried myself out of existence.

And just before sleep drags me under, I swear I can still feel his lips on mine.

Like a ghost.

Like goodbye.

Happy birthday to me.

Nineteen years old.

And I just lost the man I love.