Warning: female Vincent
Rody sat across from Vanessa, his hands resting awkwardly in his lap as he avoided her gaze. The soft glow of La Gueule de Saturne’s candlelight flickered between them, casting shadows that seemed to stretch and warp with every breath. The restaurant was quiet, intimate-the kind of setting where couples whispered sweet nothings or celebrated milestones. But there was no celebration here. No warmth in the silence.
Vanessa looked stunning, as she always did. Even now, with the air between them thick with unspoken words, she was the picture of elegance. Her short black hair framed her face perfectly, and the sharp lines of her chef’s uniform gave her an air of untouchable confidence. But behind her sharp eyes-those deep, dark eyes that had drawn him in months ago-there was a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore.
She had believed in him. Believed that he was different. And yet, here he was, about to let her down like every other man had.
He cleared his throat, the words choking him before they could leave his mouth. “Vanessa, I-“
“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice low but steady. She didn’t look angry. Just… tired. “I can see it in your face, Rody. You don’t have to say it.”
He froze, caught between relief and guilt. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He had known this conversation was coming for weeks, but now that it was here, he wasn’t prepared for how deeply it would cut.
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, her fingers grazing the edge of her wine glass, tracing absent patterns. “I thought you were different,” she said quietly, her eyes locking onto his. “I really did.”
Rody swallowed hard, shame bubbling up inside him. “Vanessa, I-“
“You don’t have to lie to me.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered with something raw, something that made him feel small. “I’ve been through this before, Rody. So many times. I let myself believe that maybe this time… maybe you would actually stay.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and thick. Rody’s throat tightened. He had known about her past-how men had used her, mistreated her, left her with nothing but broken promises and empty gestures. She was the kind of woman who seemed unbreakable, but Rody had glimpsed the cracks beneath that perfect exterior. The way she held herself together after every failed relationship, refusing to let anyone see the hurt that lingered just beneath the surface.
And he was just another disappointment. Another man who would leave her heart a little more fractured.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Rody whispered, his voice barely audible.
Vanessa laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “No one ever does, Rody. But somehow, they always manage to.”
He winced at the cold truth in her words, the way she spoke as if this was just another chapter in the same sad story. Maybe it was. She had given him everything-her time, her trust, her love-and he couldn’t even bring himself to return it. Not in the way she deserved.
He had wanted to be that guy for her. The one who could heal the wounds left by the others. But every time he looked at Vanessa, he saw what he lacked. She was too perfect. Too composed. Too much for someone like him.
Because, deep down, he still longed for *her*-Manon. He still yearned for that soft, dependent affection that Vanessa would never give him. The fragile, bubbly energy that made him feel like someone’s protector. Manon had been cute, sweet, and vulnerable in a way that Vanessa simply wasn’t.
Vanessa was too strong. Too independent. Too whole.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Rody admitted, his hands trembling as he finally met her gaze. “You deserve so much more than I can give you. I-“
“I thought I’d finally found someone who wouldn’t leave,” Vanessa interrupted, her voice softer now, more broken. “I thought you… loved me.”
Her words pierced through him like a blade. She had believed him, trusted him. But Rody knew, in the pit of his stomach, that his heart had never been fully with her. He had wanted to feel that kind of love, the kind Vanessa deserved. But it wasn’t there. It had never been there.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words got tangled in his throat. What could he possibly say? That he *wanted* to love her, but his heart was too tangled up in someone else? That he wished she could be more like Manon, softer, easier to need?
No. It wasn’t fair. Not to Vanessa. Not after everything she had been through.
“I do care about you,” Rody finally said, his voice hollow even to his own ears. “But… it’s not the way you need me to. I wish I could be that for you.”
Vanessa’s face crumpled for just a moment-just long enough for him to see the real pain, the hurt she had hidden beneath the perfect facade. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a mask of cold resolve.
“Of course,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up. “Of course you wish you could. That’s what they all say.”
She didn’t look at him again as she turned to leave, her figure cutting a sharp silhouette in the dim light of the restaurant. Her steps were measured, composed, but there was something in the set of her shoulders that betrayed her-something fragile, something breaking.
Rody’s heart sank as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone with the flickering candle between them.
The scent of lemon lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of Vanessa’s favorite dish-a taste she always craved but could never fully savor.
And now, Rody realized with a hollow ache in his chest, he had done the same to her heart.
Rody sat there for a long time, the silence pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. The candle flickered weakly, casting uneven shadows on the table where Vanessa had just been. Her empty seat felt like a ghost haunting the room, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was for the best, guilt gnawed at him, refusing to let go.
He could have loved her. He *should* have loved her.
But the truth was undeniable-his heart had never fully belonged to her. And now she was gone, another casualty in a life where he always felt like he was chasing something he could never catch.
His mind wandered to Manon. She had been everything Vanessa wasn’t-soft, sweet, dependent. With Manon, he had felt needed in a way that made him feel like he had a purpose. But even that hadn’t been enough. Manon had left, tired of his constant attempts to prove himself, to win her back when all she had wanted was space.
He wondered now if he had ever truly loved Manon, or if he had just loved the idea of her-of being the person she needed. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how empty he felt no matter who he was with. He had spent so much time trying to fill that void with other people, but it was never enough.
And now Vanessa-*Vanessa*-the one person who had seen him, really seen him, was gone. And he had broken her heart.
He could still see the look in her eyes, the way they shimmered with hurt before she had steeled herself, refusing to let him see her pain. She had been through so much already, had been hurt by so many before him. And she had thought he would be different. She had believed in him.
But he had let her down, just like all the others.
A deep, aching emptiness settled in his chest as he sat there, the weight of his own inadequacy pressing down on him. He wanted to go after her, to apologize, to tell her he was sorry for not being enough. But what good would that do? He couldn’t undo the damage he had caused. He couldn’t give her the love she deserved.
He had been her last hope, and he had failed her.
The restaurant door creaked open, and for a fleeting moment, his heart leapt, thinking maybe Vanessa had come back. But it wasn’t her. Just a waiter clearing the empty tables, moving around the room like a ghost in the dim light.
Rody stood up, the scrape of the chair against the floor loud in the stillness. He walked to the door, his steps heavy with the weight of what he had lost-what he had never truly held onto.
Outside, the night air was cool against his skin, but it did little to calm the storm inside him. He glanced down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking away, but she was long gone.
Vanessa, with her perfect exterior and the fragile heart she had hidden behind it, was out of his life. And he was left standing there, alone once again.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, turning away from the empty street. Maybe Vanessa had been too much for him, too strong, too self-assured. But that wasn’t the real problem. The problem was him-his inability to commit, his constant need to chase after something that wasn’t there. He had always been searching for someone to fill the emptiness inside him, but no one ever could. Not Manon, not Vanessa.
And now, he had left Vanessa with the same emptiness he carried. The same bitter ache that followed him everywhere.
As he walked through the dimly lit streets of Paris, the guilt and regret weighed heavily on his heart. He had hurt her. He had hurt *both* of them-Vanessa and Manon. And in doing so, he had hurt himself.
But that was just how things were for him.
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