Chapter170 – Willing to accept me?
For once, he wasn’t smiling his usual sly or mocking smile. His expression had softened—his features relaxed, his voice gentle. Clarissa liked seeing him like this. She smiled back.
So she played it again. And again. Over and over, repeating the half-finished melody while Atticus sat quietly beside her, listening as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.
It should have been a peaceful, warm moment between them. But as Atticus watched her fingers move across the keys, something dark stirred inside him.
She was right there—so close. And yet… he felt like she was slipping away.
It was a feeling he couldn’t name. A creeping fear that if she ever saw who he really was—beneath the charm, beneath the control—she would vanish from his life.
He’d seen the look in her eyes before. That flicker of discomfort when a hint of his real self slipped out. And if she saw everything—if she saw the darkness he kept hidden—would she still choose to stay?
The thought made something snap inside him.
No. He couldn’t let that happen.
Suddenly, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Clarissa,” he murmured, voice urgent.
Startled, her hands stilled on the piano. “What is it?”
She looked at him, concerned. But before she could say more, he tightened his hold.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Is this boring you?”
“No…” His grip tightened just slightly, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “It’s not boring. It’s beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful.”
“Atticus?”
“Clarissa.” Then he said, voice trembling with restraint:
“I’m not your brother. I don’t want to be your brother anymore. Clarissa… see me as a man.”
His breath was hot against her neck, his words low and fervent. It sent a ripple of heat down her spine.
His arms were tight around her—too tight—but not painful.
Clarissa didn’t push him away. Somewhere along the line, she’d stopped seeing him as just the boy. Somewhere along the line… she’d fallen for him.
She slowly raised her hand and gently cupped the side of his face, like soothing a wild creature who’d never known peace.
And just like that, his grip eased. His breath steadied.
Her voice was soft. “Okay. I promise.”
Those words—just three of them—were enough to quiet the storm inside him. His eyes darkened with emotion, and he muttered in a hoarse voice, “Good…”
Clarissa smiled. He looked almost… cute like this.
But the next second, he grabbed her face and kissed her—hard.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was hungry and rough and full of things he didn’t know how to say.
Clarissa froze at first, her eyes wide with surprise. But by the time she processed what was happening, his tongue had already slipped past her lips.
She didn’t resist.
Instead, she stayed right where she was, melting into him, letting him devour her, claim her.
Atticus’s mood shifted instantly. Her willingness unleashed something in him. The kiss deepened, grew rougher. He held her like he was afraid she’d disappear—like he had to taste every part of her just to prove she was real.
Clarissa’s head spun. She could hardly breathe.
Just as the edge of suffocation crept in, he pulled back—barely—and looked at her, breathless and flushed.
"Clarissa..."
"Hmm?"
Her breathing was quick and shallow, cheeks tinged with red, lips slightly parted. When she heard him call her name, she responded without thinking—soft and low, her voice full of heat and hesitation.
Atticus held her tightly, her body soft against his chest. His voice came out hoarse and coaxing, "One more kiss. Please?"
Clarissa’s face flushed even deeper. Embarrassed, she reached out to push him away, whispering, "No... let go of me."
"No." He grinned, tightening his arms around her. "I’m never letting you go. Not in this lifetime."
His words made her freeze for a moment.
If only life could really be that simple—just the two of them, forever.
But would there ever really be a future for them?
He was only eighteen, still with a long road ahead. The legal age for marriage was twenty-two. By then, she’d be twenty-eight.
For the first time, Clarissa felt truly insecure.
She had always looked down on her friends who lost themselves chasing after love—who gave up their pride and settled for less. She used to think it was foolish, pathetic even.
And now? She was no different.
Worse, maybe. At least they had the courage to chase love.
Clarissa, on the other hand, was a coward. So afraid, she couldn’t even face her own feelings.
In her orignal world, she had spent most of her life locking herself away, pretending she needed no one. If her own parents could abandon her, how could she expect anyone else to stay?
Don’t expect. Don’t ask. That way, there’s nothing to lose—and no disappointment.
That belief had guided her through everything: friendships, family, and especially love.
Money, at least, was reliable. Tangible. Saving more, earning more—that was the only path to peace of mind.
But there were still those nights. Late at night, when the house was too quiet and she was too awake, she realized how deep her loneliness ran. The kind of loneliness that gnawed at the bones and chilled the soul.
Maybe that’s why she’d softened toward Atticus in the first place. Maybe it was seeing herself in him—seeing that same abandoned child.
Maybe this strange, twisted connection between them really was fate.
"Clarissa? Clarissa?"
She blinked. Atticus’s voice brought her back, and she looked up at him with dazed eyes.
Their eyes met. "What’s wrong? What were you thinking just now?"
Clarissa didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out and wrapped her arms around him—tight.
Atticus froze.
Since the day he’d confessed his feelings, Clarissa had always kept her distance. If he hadn’t been injured, she probably would’ve pulled away whenever he touched her.
But now she was hugging him.
"Clarissa?"
"It’s nothing," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "Atticus, you have to be okay. Promise me you’ll be okay..."
He looked at her, brows furrowing. "Clarissa, what’s going on with you?"
"Promise me," she insisted, eyes locked on his, full of something raw and unspoken. "Swear you won’t hurt innocent people. When we go back, work hard with Phoenix. Please?"
Atticus didn’t reply right away.
There were too many things swirling in his mind—too many secrets he hadn’t told her, too many truths she wouldn’t want to hear.
But on the surface, his smile was as calm and charming as ever.
"I was already planning to go back to her," he said lightly. "With the teacher watching over me, shouldn’t you be reassured?"
Clarissa’s eyes brightened, her smile breaking through the uncertainty like sunlight.
The next second, Clarissa leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
It was light, fleeting—but Atticus froze, stunned.
Before he could react, she had already turned away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear to hide her embarrassment. "For now… let’s leave it at that. We’ll talk about everything else once we’re back."
Atticus’s eyes lit up, the gleam in them unmistakable.
He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “Clarissa, does this mean… you’re willing to accept me?”
Clarissa didn’t dare meet his eyes, but she still gave a small nod. “You have to behave for the next six months.”
"Deal!" Atticus pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly it was as if he was afraid she’d slip away.
For the first time, the coldness in his eyes completely melted, replaced with something warm—sincere, and deeply content. He felt something in his chest, unfamiliar and overwhelming. And strangely, he didn’t hate it.
He looked at her like she was everything.
Since he wanted her, he’d keep her. Make her his—for the rest of their lives.
Clarissa rested in his embrace, her heart swelling with something soft and full. Joy. Warmth. Hope.
She was choosing to take a chance. Looking at the boy in front of her, smiling like a carefree child, Clarissa believed—for the first time in a long time—that maybe she’d made the right choice.
Even if the road ahead was uncertain, even if their future was full of shadows, she wanted to believe in him. In the boy she raised who was slowly becoming a man she could be proud of.