Part 5 — The Lie

The cabin door had been closed for hours, but Laird hadn’t touched the file in front of him.

Instead, he sat in his chair, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on a meaningless spot on the far wall.

Her words from earlier that day were still looping in his head.

"I love you."

It should have been easy to ignore. Feelings like that, when unwelcome, were supposed to roll off his back. But hers had landed differently — not because he believed them, but because she had spoken them so quietly, so simply, without expecting anything back.

And that was dangerous.

He hated love.

He hated the way it made people reckless, how it eroded boundaries, how it blurred the line between independence and weakness.

He had seen it up close. Once, years ago, he had been on the other side of it — the one giving, the one trusting. He had believed in loyalty, in permanence. And when it had crumbled, he had been left standing in the ruins alone. He had built walls after that, not for defense, but for survival.

Yara’s presence threatened that survival.

Her persistence, her quiet acts of care — they weren’t harmless. They were cracks in the wall he’d kept solid for years. And he knew if he didn’t close them now, she would eventually break through.

So he decided.

He would end this, once and for all.

When she returned to his cabin later with a document for him to sign, he didn’t take it immediately. Instead, he gestured for her to close the door.

"Sit," he said, his tone sharper than usual.

She obeyed, setting the file on the desk between them. Her expression was neutral, but he could see the faint trace of something softer in her eyes — the same quiet warmth that had been there for months.

"I need you to hear this clearly, Yara," he began, leaning back in his chair. "I already love someone."

Her brows lifted slightly, but she said nothing.

"I’ve loved her for a long time," he continued, his voice even, deliberate. "And nothing you say or do will change that. So stop whatever feelings you have for me."

The words were a lie.

There was no woman. There hadn’t been for years. But as far as he was concerned, this lie was necessary — a blunt instrument to cut through whatever thread kept her tied to him.

He expected her to flinch. To look away. Maybe to finally walk out and leave him alone.

Instead, her eyes began to shine. Not with anger — but with unshed tears.

And then… she smiled.

It was small, almost fragile, but it held a kind of acceptance that made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.

"That’s fine," she said softly.

He frowned, not understanding. "You didn’t hear me—"

"I did," she interrupted gently. "Love doesn’t have to be two-sided."

He stared at her, trying to read the sincerity in her voice.

"I promise I won’t come between you and her," she continued. "I won’t bother you. But…" She took a small breath, steadying herself. "I can’t stop caring about you. Just let me stay near. Let me help you. Let me see you every day. That will be enough for me. I’ll never ask for love in return."

He said nothing.

Part of him wanted to snap, to tell her that this — whatever she was proposing — was still unacceptable. That he didn’t want her care in any form, not as a lover, not as a friend, not even as an employee who noticed too much.

But another part of him… didn’t know what to do with her words.

The sincerity in them felt heavier than any declaration he’d heard before. She wasn’t bargaining. She wasn’t pleading. She was simply telling him what she could live with — and what she couldn’t change.

He should have told her to leave.

He should have repeated the lie until she finally believed it enough to walk away.

Instead, he picked up the document she had brought, uncapped his pen, and signed without looking at her again.

"You can go," he said, his voice flat.

She rose, gave him one last faint smile, and left the cabin quietly.

When the door closed behind her, he sat back again, staring at the signed paper without really seeing it.

He had told her a lie to end her love.

But somehow, she had turned it into a truth he wasn’t ready for — a truth where she stayed anyway.

And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

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