Liam's POV.
I didn't mean to say that or talk to her in that manner.
It was the hundredth time I'd told myself that in the past five minutes, but the guilt still lingered. Madeline sat quietly across from me, occasionally sipping the tea I ordered for her, just like Mum said she preferred when she got nauseous.
She didn't look at me again after I raised my voice.
'Damn it.'
The truth was, I was nervous. Extremely nervous. But men like me don't get the luxury of showing it. We act. We carry things. We don't complain. That's what I was taught.
I was growing to understand that it was not and that I don't have to carry the burden of the world on my shoulders but it was not easy to change.
I leaned back in my seat, trying to relax.
If she knew the kind of effect she had on me or that I had hugged her like a desperate dog, would she still sit across me with her face filled with annoyance, or would she slap me and jump off the jet?
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple. I wasn't angry at her.
The anger was at myself.
The situation. At how messy this all was. The way I was handling it, terribly.
So I just kept quiet, not answering her or initiating conversation.
Or even apologizing, as I should be.
The plane was descending, and so was my ability to think; we are finally here.
As soon as the jet touched the ground, Madeline got up from her seat, grabbed her scarf, and stormed off.
I blinked, trying to process what was going on, but Madeline was way ahead, storming off, not even turning back once.
Snapping, I finally moved, trying to follow her.
'Where did this woman think she was going? Does she even know where this is?'
"Madeline!" I called out.
She didn't stop. Didn't even turn around.
God, she was fast when she was angry.
Soon, I caught up, my hand stretching forward, before I could think too much, I grabbed her wrist stopping her.
She stopped in her tracks as she slowly turned around.
The sun was slowly setting, its orange hue glistening on her face, and she looked like the kind of picture men would carry in their wallet before going to a war.
'She was so beautiful.'
But Madeline tried to yank her hands out of my grasp, so I pulled her close my other hand settling on her waist, till I could see my eyes reflected in hers, till our breaths mingled.
''I am sorry,'' I said, my voice so low that I could barely hear myself.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."
She blinked, stunned, as if she couldn't believe that word came out of my mouth.
Her lips parted, ready to fire something back, but I didn't give her the chance, not yet.
"You trusted me," I continued. "You followed me here without asking questions. You let my mother dress you up like an Egyptian mummy with glasses. And you sat on a plane with me, even though I always hurt you. And what did I do in return? I snapped. I acted like a bloody idiot."
She just stared at me, her expression blank.
"I'm not good at this," I admitted, "Whatever this is."
She lowered her gaze, but I could still feel the tension in her body.
"I just… I don't want you to feel like you made a mistake by coming with me."
She looked up at that.
And in that moment, the sun dipped lower, and with that her expression also dimmed, her body language turning more fragile.
And there it was, tears.
Tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes, ''You asshole!'' she finally burst as she yanked her hand hitting my chest.
Tears, more and more, uncontrollable.
''Do you know how hurt I have been?''
''Do you know that I have been living a life that doesn't feel like mine, being thrown into a marriage like this!''
''I know you don't want me, but stop treating me like this!''
''I am not used to any of this!''
I froze.
Not because I didn't care.
But because I did.
"Madeline…" I said her name like a prayer, my voice vulnerable. But the tears kept falling, and she wasn't done.
"You think just because I agreed to this bloody arrangement, I don't feel anything?" she shouted. "That I'm just some paper bride to be shipped around, thrown into some rich celebrity's life for convenience?"
Her voice cracked. It cracked, and it damn near split something open in me.
"I don't even know who I am in all of this!" she cried. "And every time I try to find my place, you make me feel like I don't belong. Like I'm just... a nuisance to you."
Her words hit harder than any slap ever could.
Because they were true.
I'd been so caught up in my own head, my own fear, that I forgot she was terrified too. I forgot that this entire situation was as new and uncomfortable for her as it was for me.
And instead of being kind, instead of being gentle, I pushed her away again and again.
"You're not a nuisance," I said, my voice raw. "You're not."
She looked up, eyes swollen, breathing fast, furious.
"I wanted you here, Madeline," I whispered.
For a moment, she went quiet.
"I don't want to be the reason you feel like you're losing yourself," I said. "And I don't want to keep hurting you. That's not who I want to be with you."
She didn't respond, not immediately.
But her head lowered slightly, her forehead resting against my chest.
And for a moment I was afraid she could hear how fast my heart was beating.
"I hate you," she mumbled.
"I know."
Saying that, I hugged her; this time she was awake and she didn't pull away, nor did she hug me back.
Maybe this was a bad idea, but I couldn't care less about it.