Elona’s POV
I pulled the blanket up to my chest like it could shield me from the thoughts echoing in my head. The dim bedside lamp cast shadows across the room. Tristan remained seated on the bed, his shoulders curved forward, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.
Camille’s words still echoed inside me like a bitter aftertaste I couldn’t spit out. Did Tristan still trust her more than he trusted me? What is she trying to do or say?
I closed my eyes tightly, but instead of quiet, there was only a growing ache in my chest. I opened my mouth before I could stop myself. “Tristan,” I said quietly, my voice cracking like thin ice. “Do you have… some kind of history with Camille?” I asked.
He slowly lifted his head and turned to face me. His eyes were tired but turned soft when they met mine. I didn’t want softness, I wanted truth. I didn’t want to feel like I was standing outside the circle of his life, begging to be let in about anything.
He hesitated, and that was enough to make my heart twist. “We… we do,” he said finally. “But it’s old history, Elona. It was a long time ago.”
I nodded, trying to breathe, but my lungs felt tight. “What kind of history?” I didn’t want to know, but I still wanted to know.
“Elona…” He leaned forward, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch me, but thought better of it. “It’s not what you think. Camille and I were… just young. Stupid. It was during college. Parties. Late nights. It wasn’t-”
“Did you sleep with her?” I asked, my voice sharper than I expected. I bit the inside of my cheek, regretting how small it made me sound. “I don’t want to sound like an insecure girlfriend but...” He didn’t answer at first and the silence was its own kind of confession. I swallowed hard. “So you did,” I stated.
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Yes,” he said finally, quietly. “But it was before anything. It was before Estelle and I started dating. Before any real relationship in my life. Camille was… my first, but it was casual. We were all in college at the time. I only had eyes for Estelle. Camille was also just trying to adapt to the new normal of her life. Estelle and Camille were in foster care together when they were little girls, so they were practically friends and sisters, not by blood. Estelle was adopted and Camille was struggling through life but remained very close to Estelle as you have seen before Estelle passed away. If Camille wanted me so badly, she would’ve done something a long time ago, but there were no feelings back then and no feelings now for her. She annoys the crap out of me... But it was just the chaos of college. I never loved her. I never even liked her that way. It was fun...reckless. It meant nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing to me. Not tonight though.
“So why did she say you always go to her?” I whispered, my fingers digging into the bedsheet to anchor me. “Why did you tell her about Grace’s case first and not me? I thought we were in this together. I thought we confided in each other.”
He winced. “Elona, she found the documents. I didn’t go to her with it. I left the documents on the coffee table and went to my study room because of her claim on this house. She clearly saw it because she went inside my study room, reading it out to me and I didn’t want anyone else to see it before sending it out to my lawyer. I only saw the documents a few minutes before she knocked on the front door.”
“That’s not the point,” I said, the heat was rising in my chest. “The point is that she knew before me. And now I have to hear it from her in a way that makes me feel like I’m... second to her. Like I’m the little girl tagging along behind your real confidant.”
His expression twisted into pain. “You’re not. You are not second to anyone, especially not Camille. Don’t give her that kind of power. Whatever she says to you, don’t take it to heart.”
I stared down at my knees, trying to keep my breath steady. “She wants that power. She wants to wedge herself between us. And whether you realize it or not… you’re letting her.”
He stood up, rubbing his jaw with the heel of his hand. “I’m not defending her, Elona. You’re right. She shouldn’t have been anywhere near those documents. It was reckless of me to have left it there without thinking. And she shouldn’t have said what she said. But I can’t change the past. I can only try to protect you from it, and right now my hands are tight with this house until further notice. I’m finding it difficult to let go of this house because it holds so much that is dear to my heart.”
“But this...” I looked up, my voice cracking. “This kind of protection? Keeping things from me? That doesn’t protect me, Tristan. It just makes me feel alone. I need to know everything about this case, especially if I will be questioned.”
He looked at me, and I saw the guilt in his eyes. The same kind he carried after every sleepless night, every dark memory that surfaced and threatened to drown him.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I never do. I’m still learning how to do this… to be enough for someone after being so broken for so long.”
“I don’t want perfect,” I said. “I just want honesty. Even if it hurts. Especially when it hurts and openness... for you to be careful.”
“Whatever she says...do not listen to her because she can easily get under a person’s skin. Come to me if there is anything she says. I don’t want her to cause any unnecessary drama,” he said.
“I do think she is correct on two things. I shouldn’t live here while this case is ongoing, and it is because of me to begin with.”
He narrowed his eyes at me for a short moment before he nodded once, but his eyes had already drifted away. “You will not move out and don’t blame yourself. I need to prepare for the case this week,” he said quietly. “I will be in the study room.”
I could hear the retreat in his voice, I could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, like armor was being reassembled over his heart. He turned and walked towards the door, pausing for half a second before slipping out, closing it softly behind him. And just like that, the space he left behind felt ten degrees colder.
I pulled the blanket higher up, pressing my forehead into my knees. The scent of him still lingered on the pillow beside me. Camille may have been from his past, but she cast a long shadow into the present. And maybe the real battle wasn’t just with what had happened at VFS… maybe it was with the pieces of Tristan’s history that still clawed at the seams of everything we were trying to build, especially since Camille is back after three years of being MIA straight after Aunt Estelle’s funeral. Where was she, and what was she doing during that time?
But she was right... I can’t live here while the Grace case is ongoing. I don’t want to make any situation worse if any little thing could help Tristan to be saved from this case.