Arran wanted to explain everything. About the complicated situation his family was put in - how his father had made the decision to start building stronger relationships with other, newer Pureblood families through him and also tying them to the old by marrying Ayanna off to Regulus. He wanted to explain how it was for the best, but he knew better than that. It would all only sound like excuses, like he was pitying her.
And he loved her too much to pity her.
He watched the mirror slide back to his side of the table, and he had to fight the sudden urge to throw it across the room, to watch it shatter into pieces. He didn’t want the other half, he wanted to tell her. What couple? Emma was nothing about a name to him, and Vanity meant even less.
“I didn’t think this was going to happen so soon. If I knew, I would’ve told you earlier.” Arran tried, as if that was going to help the situation. A part of him had hoped that Cassandra would be as understanding as he was when his father first told him, but it was selfish of him to want that. Not when they’d already shared so much together, when she was one of the few people he’d really poured his heart out to. A guiltier part of him, though, wanted her to scream at him and tell him that he was making a mistake - that he was an idiot for letting his family dictate his life. But wasn’t this how it all worked? How it’d been working for years? Tradition, his father had told him, is not meant to be broken.
“Cassie - ” With a hesitant mutter of her name, Arran reached over the table, holding a hand out to silently ask for hers. (He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t give it to him.) “It’s not like i asked for this, but we both knew it was going to come sooner or later, didn’t we? There was no guarantee that it was going to be us for the rest of our lives and…” He would be lying if he said he never thought about it. Spending the rest of his life with Cassandra. How easy it would be to love his wife and how different it would feel from being with his own family.
And he had wanted that, but it didn’t matter what he wanted. It wouldn’t have made a difference even if he told his father.
“What do you want me to do? Apologize? Because I’m sorry. I am.”
Cassandra could almost physically feel the walls building up around her, her fortress of defense forming to close her off from the one she used to call her love. She couldn’t look weak at a time like this, she told herself, no tears, no frowns, no e m o t i o n s. She didn’t want pity, she didn’t want consolation, she didn’t want anything from Arran unless they were getting back together.
It was a strange feeling.
She should’ve just gotten up and left the second he had told her the news, find her a good, quiet place that she could weep alone, but she almost felt like she were glued to the seat. Cass didn’t want to leave anyway, knowing that this would probably be the last time that they spoke, looked each other in the eyes. After this, it’ll be awkward interactions and sneak-glances while the other wasn’t looking--and she didn’t want it to be like that.
“Well, thank you for that; it’s comforting to see that you at least still take me into considerations before making decisions.” Her tone was as frigid as her stiffened body, words dripping in hurt. She wanted to be able to understand, to tell him that it was okay and she knew he had no choice, but if she were being honest--she was too selfish. She didn’t think for others, merely herself and the fact that it hurt her wiped out any consideration for his position in this dilemma. She wanted to yell at him, tell him that he was being stupid, that he should’ve fought for her but that Rosier pride came in the way.
You don’t need him, Cass, a dark, self-assured voice tried to tell her, you could get anyone you wanted with so much as a glance in their direction. Why were you getting caught up on one guy? She considered the thought for a moment, knowing that it were true and she mentally kicked herself for growing attached to Arran when this were the case. But just as she straightened her posture and flipped a stray brunette lock away from her face, a softer voice in Cass’ head spoke out and answered the darker voice’s question. Because you love him.
Emerald eyes watched as his hand extended out toward her, the same hand used to caress her skin was now open in apology, probably the last contact it’d make should she take it in her own. And she almost did, just because she missed the way it felt against hers and she was dying for some contact with the boy who had claimed her heart. A pale hand extended outward, fingers just inches away from his hand, inches away from instant comfort. His words made her pull it back though, almost in shock. How could he say he’d known this was going to happen? Had she? “Oh,” she said, “I hadn’t realized your love had an expiration date. Excuse me if my reaction doesn’t suit your fancy since mine doesn’t.” She knew he was trying to let her down easy, soften the blow, but she was too angry, too hurt to accept that right now. Cass knew she’d probably end up apologizing in a few days for her harsh words, but right now she was too proud to be anything other than cold.
She wanted to claw her own eyes out once she felt the sting of tears before her next words, her long fingers clenching into a fist to keep from doing so.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Arran. I don’t c a r e anymore.”
