"I love you Mickey"

Part 17

Mickey's pov:

The following morning, after the altercation with Harvey, I returned home, ensuring Klas had left before delivering another round of blows to drive home the message that he was mine and off-limits. I entered the house without bothering to knock, ascending to my room only to find Natalie asleep on my bed. Unmoved, I approached her, pulling her by the arm and instructing her to find a room of her own-I wasn't in the mood for sharing.

Exhausted and sleep-deprived, I faced Natalie's accusatory questions about my whereabouts the previous night. With a pounding headache and no desire for confrontation, I tersely ordered her to leave. She resisted, pushing me to the breaking point. Frustrated by the series of events that had unfolded in recent days, I couldn't contain it any longer. Snatching the lamp from my bedside table, I hurled it against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

In the midst of the chaos, Max intervened, persuading Natalie to leave. Fueled by anger and pent-up emotions, I lashed out, directing my punches at Max. He staggered under the blows, and while I didn't go so far as to inflict fatal harm, I couldn't restrain the force behind my fists. After all, he was still my brother, and despite the turmoil, a part of me needed him.

I awoke to find my left hand handcuffed to the bedpost. Glancing around, I discovered Max sitting nearby, nursing swollen and bruised eyes with ice cubes. He looked up at the sound of my struggles with the cuffs. "Are you done, Mickey?" he inquired, arching his brows. "Done with what?" I replied. "Tantrums," he rolled his eyes, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm serious. If you're not done, then you'll have to stay there," he warned. "I'm done. I'm okay," I assured him, and he proceeded to uncuff my hand. "Gonna take care of Natalie?" he asked, but I simply nodded, unwilling to delve into that conversation. Sitting up on the bed, I prepared to return to work.

Klas's pov:

The next morning, I chose to sequester myself in my room, still reeling from the events of the previous night. The realization that Mickey had tracked us and resorted to violence left me conflicted. While I appreciated his concern, I couldn't condone violence as a form of expression in our relationship. Feeling hungry, I descended the stairs with the intention of preparing mac and cheese, only to overhear my mother's conversation.

Her voice resonated in the air, and as I cautiously eavesdropped, I discovered she was talking to Mickey. Conflicted emotions welled up within me-I was both upset and oddly comforted by his presence. Deciding to quietly listen in, I heard Mickey pouring out his troubles, explaining how I had ended our relationship and the overwhelming responsibilities that now burdened him due to Natalie's pregnancy. My mother, in a surprising twist, unveiled a plan she had already set in motion.

"I bought you a house for you and Natalie. We don't have to tell Klas," she revealed. The shock and frustration intensified within me. Unable to contain my emotions, I confronted them both. Tears streamed down my face as I expressed my dismay, feeling betrayed by the attempt to keep secrets from me. Despite my mother's attempts to console me, I resisted her comfort, overwhelmed by a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Klas, go to your room, we'll talk about it," Mickey attempted, but my frustration erupted, leading to a resounding slap across his face. He restrained himself, a restrained "Fucking fuck!!!" escaping his lips, mindful of my mother's presence. The situation escalated as I vented my anger at both of them, Mickey's attempts to console me only fueling my distress. The tension heightened with Harvey's entrance, his battered appearance revealing the aftermath of his confrontation with Mickey.

Harvey approached me, offering solace, and sensing Mickey's gaze, I chose to find comfort in Harvey's presence, a subtle satisfaction emanating from Mickey's audible frustration. My father's unexpected arrival added another layer to the chaos. Bewildered by the scene, he was met with the sight of his son's teacher in close proximity. Anxiety gripped me as I anticipated both my father's reaction to my relationship and Mickey's disapproving glare toward Harvey.

Surprisingly, Harvey took the initiative to explain the situation to my father, revealing the details of my relationship. To my astonishment, my father responded with unexpected understanding. The possibility of a happy ending emerged, yet it was overshadowed by Mickey's departure, his palpable upset signaling that the storybook conclusion was slipping away.

Harvey decided to stay the night, and I concurred. As he rested in my room, I took a stroll around the house and stumbled upon Mickey packing a bag containing an unsettling assortment of weapons. Intrigued and somewhat frightened, I approached him, questioning his intentions. With a sinister smile, he declared his intent to eliminate my future fiancé before he could become my husband. Although fear and shock gripped me, I concealed my emotions, aware that Mickey reveled in seeing me flustered. He insisted that no one could replace him in my life.

Summoning courage, I countered, affirming my love for Harvey and emphasizing that Mickey wouldn't hurt me by harming someone I cared about. He chuckled, claiming he knew me too well, and continued his packing. Unyielding, I issued a threat - to inform my father about my discomfort with Mickey and request his termination. This prompted a slight shove from Mickey, a sign of his displeasure, accompanied by a stern "Miller," signaling the abrupt transformation of our relationship into one of estrangement.

Despite the pain of Mickey's departure and the lingering love, I acknowledged that he brought nothing but chaos, something I could no longer tolerate.

The dinner transpired in silence, and my father casually mentioned that Mickey had resigned from his job to support Natalie. Skeptical of this explanation, I found myself hurt by the notion, even though I knew Mickey didn't truly love Natalie. Unable to stomach the meal any longer, I excused myself, my appetite waning, and sought solace in my room. The question loomed - had Mickey genuinely moved on from me? Regret seeped in as I realized the mistake of having Harvey stay in the same room with me; right now, I craved solitude. The truth was, my feelings for Harvey were never genuine - I had merely used him as a means to evoke jealousy in Mickey. Guilt lingered, but my concern was solely for Mickey. Ignoring Harvey throughout the night, I retreated to bed early, grappling with a myriad of emotions.

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