[Fiona POV]
I was woken up by Carl's screaming; it seemed he and Heath had a little brawl. I had closed my eyes tightly, hoping to sleep and not hear what they were arguing about, but it was no use, as Carl's idea of communication was yelling.
The more dreadful thing to know was knowing that they were arguing about me; this is what I feared from the very beginning. Though I owe Carl no loyalty, I didn't have to cause this rift between him and Heath.
I chose to ignore it; maybe if I do not acknowledge them, they will not confront me. Besides, Heath clearly told me that he just wanted to play me from the very beginning, so why should I help him?
"Do not talk about Fiona like that, you will regret it, Carl. I am letting you get away with talking to me like that because you are a very important person to me, but do not talk about Fiona like that ever." I hear Heath roar.
Just the sheer determination to get Carl to stop calling me names almost pains me. Who knows if he is saying that to get me to forgive him? I continue to ignore the fights; they will figure it out themselves.
But that was until Carl started banging on my door, "ugh…." I grumbled, getting out of bed. I was ready to give him a piece of my mind.
Yes, he can be angry at his friend and boss for this, but not me. I owe Carl nothing, and I will not apologize for living my life.
But as I opened the door, I saw Carl on the ground with Heath on top of him, punching him furiously.
"What the hell!" I hate feeling hopeful, hopeful that maybe this man might like me a little bit just because he is set on defending me, "Heath Duncan, stop it!"
But then again, he acted as if he had been into me for days just to get me into his bed, but whatever it was, I needed to de-escalate this situation before it got out of hand.
I had gently pulled Heath into my room to help him cool off while sending Carl away. Though I do hate Carl for how he ended our relationship, it's still a bit bitter to watch him broken as I pulled Heath away.
People make mistakes, and we ought to communicate so we can resolve them, but there is nothing to resolve between Carl and me; it is bad that he is hurting because of this.
But it is not my responsibility to consider his feelings while living my life, since I do not expect him to consider mine while living his life. We are nothing but strangers.
"What was that? Geez, Heath, can you think for a moment and not let him agitate you?" I scolded, "Where are you hurt? I don't have a first aid kit, but I can DIY some remedies."
"I am not hurt anywhere," he says before pouting. I hated how I was the one he hurt, but now I must console him. "You really care about him, huh?"
"What are you talking about, Heath?" I grumble.
"I saw how you looked at his pitiful, pathetic self," he says bitterly, "you felt sorry, you cared about him, hurt."
"So? Do you think caring about hurting other people is because I love them? I just want to give everyone the common human decency, him included," I defend.
"He hurt you."
"You hurt me too," I admit. "You know I was starting to have some hope that maybe, maybe you really feel that way about me, and it hurts being proven right."
"But Fiona, you didn't even let me finish," Heath yells. "Yes, at first I was being a jerk, but that doesn't mean I am not serious right now. You have healed wounds I myself had gotten accustomed to living with."
"Well, it is too late, we are not compatible anyway," I sadly say. I think our union was doomed before it even started. Why should we continue with a failed relationship?
"You are so darn stubborn, you know that?" he grumbles, before yanking me close to him.
He had taken me by my face, put my forehead in his, "I am willing to learn, to work on this, stop being stubborn, stop thinking about Carl. Just give this one chance. If I mess up, you will leave me, but now, don't."
"I don't know, Heath; this will all blow up in our faces and we will hate each other."
"Never, I could never hate, I will never hurt you, I promise, if I do, kill me," he pleaded. My resolve was shaking, though it is hard to believe that he wants something serious; it is also quite believable.
I do not want to get hurt. In previous relationships, I had always jumped in headfirst without warning, and maybe that is what got me hurt. I do not want to do this again; I want to start something with a clear and reasonable mind.
"I…. I am scared, I don't want to get hurt, even though I have been hurt so many times, it doesn't make it less painful. I don't want to get hurt, Heath," I plead, letting my tears roll off my cheeks.
"I…..." he stutters before hugging me tightly, "I will not hurt you, give me this chance, you cannot give up on love just because you have kissed some frogs, give a prince a chance to love you."
" Will you take it slow?" I asked, and I watched his whole face light up at my question; he could not hide his excitement.
"Yes, we will start by going on long dates, getting to know each other and all the other stuff, and we will do the whole asking you to be my girlfriend, and we will get engaged, and soon we...."
"Slow down, Heath, okay, one thing at a time," I smiled at him gently.
"Promise me you will take care of me too," he pleads, "promise not to hurt me."
"I will not hurt you, Heath, I promise," I say to him.
Moving on too quickly? Probably, moving on with a man with a questionable past? Definitely, but my father has always taught me to take each opportunity to be happy; I should take it with both my hands.
"I am sorry," he mutters.
"About what? Are you playing me again?"
"What? No, I mean what Carl said about you being an orphan. It is my fault he is acting that way, so I am sorry."
If it were 15-year-old Fiona who had to move in with Selby's parents because her family refused to let her in their home after her parents died, I would have cried my eyes out and cursed my parents for leaving me so soon.
But I had grown, I had learned a lot, I had healed a lot, and though it hurt to hear Carl say such atrocious, hurtful words, it didn't hurt enough for me to go into a self-pity party.
"It is not your fault, let Carl run rampage all he wants, it will not hurt me," I bitterly say.
"You are allowed to be hurt too, you know, you let me hurt about my parents' tragic love story and comforted me. You can also get hurt if you are hurt," he whispered, clearly concerned.
"My parents' death is a story of another day; right now, I just want to rest. Can you grant me that wish, please?"
"Of course, my queen, just know that I will always protect you, okay, I am your man now, and it is my duty," he mutters.
"Thank you," I slowly melted into his arms. It is scary how easy this is being, how easy it is to be his. I keep waiting for the rug to be pulled up under my feet, which is how life has always been for me. Any spark of happiness was a sign that I was to suffer soon. I hope this is not true this time; I hope I am happy forever.