My Childhood Bully is a Mafia Boss-Chapter 26

Ivy, back then continues...

The world seemed to freeze when I saw Aidan, his fingers wrapped around the small book that held my deepest thoughts.

My diary, a silent confidant of my quiet life, now prey to his careless grasp. Horror clawed at my throat, but no sound escaped. His blue eyes met mine, a smug, teasing glint in them as if he’d just won a prize.

"Give it back, Aidan!" The words tumbled out, sharp and laced with panic. He was the last person I wanted reading those pages—each word a piece of my soul laid bare.

"Aw, come on, Ivy," he drawled, his voice low and taunting. It rang through the empty hallway like a mockery of my fear. "What’s the harm in sharing a few little secrets?"

"Please," I whispered, the plea lost in the vast space between us. To him, this was a game, but to me, it was a nightmare unfolding.

He flipped the cover open, a dismissive chuckle slipping from his lips as he scanned the first page. "What are you so afraid of? It’s not like anyone cares about your boring little life."

I reached for the diary, desperation fueling my movements, but he easily stepped back, keeping it just out of reach. Each second he held it was a violation, a trespass into the sanctuary of my thoughts.

"Stop it! That’s personal!" My voice cracked, straining against the tightness in my chest. My hands trembled, useless against the tidal wave of his cruelty.

"Personal?" Aidan scoffed, flipping through another page. "Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like there’s anything interesting in here."

"It doesn’t matter how boring! I don’t want you to read anything!" I squealed.

But did he listen to me? No. To my horror, he started read all the stupid little thoughts I jotted down.

With every word he read aloud, mocking laughter bubbled from his throat, echoing off the lockers. My cheeks burned with shame, and my heart pounded an erratic rhythm. How could someone take such pleasure in unraveling another person’s self-worth?

"Please, Aidan. That’s enough." My voice was barely audible, a choked whisper begging for mercy. But mercy wasn’t in his vocabulary—not today, not when he had the upper hand.

"Enough?" he echoed, his eyes never leaving the pages. "I’m just getting to the good part."

That smug smile remained plastered on his face, a cruel reminder that, to him, I was nothing more than a source of amusement. The very thought sent a shiver down my spine, a cold dread that settled heavy in my stomach.

I lunged forward, my fingers stretching in a futile attempt to snatch the diary from Aidan’s grasp. "You can’t read that," I pleaded, panic lacing every word. "It’s private—just for me. Please, you have to understand."

"Understand?" he taunted, sidestepping with an ease that spoke of his indifference to my distress. "Why? Because your delicate feelings might get hurt?" His eyes were cold, blue flames dancing with malice as they flicked over my words, my innermost thoughts.

"Those are my emotions, my experiences," I said, voice cracking like thin ice beneath heavy boots. "They’re not yours to mock!"

But Aidan was relentless.

"Look at this," he chuckled, and it felt as though he’d reached inside me and turned everything upside down. "Isn’t this precious?"

"Really, Ivy? A phobia of clowns?" Aidan’s voice pierced the tense air. He threw his head back, laughter booming and echoing off the walls of the quiet room.

"Give it back," I said weakly again, stretching out a trembling hand as he continued to rifle through the pages with a sense of entitlement that made my stomach churn. "It’s not funny."

"Sure, it is. You’re just too sensitive to see it." The smirk on his face didn’t falter, even as he read on, finding new ammunition with every word I had naively thought would remain secret.

"Ah, here’s a good one," he interrupted, oblivious or indifferent to the quiver in my tone. "The time you cried over a dead bird for hours. That’s hilarious. What are you, five?"

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Can’t you just stop?" My voice broke, splintered fragments of my composure scattering before him. "Why do you have to be so cruel?"

Aidan flipped another page casually, his blue eyes dancing with mockery. "Cruel?" he echoed. "I’m just having a bit of fun at your expense. Lighten up, Ivy."

"Fun..." The word tasted bitter on my tongue, a stark contrast to the salty trace of a tear that slipped down my cheek. "This is my life you’re toying with."

"Your life?" He snorted, tossing the diary onto a nearby table carelessly. "Sounds more like a bad soap opera."

My knees felt weak, ready to buckle beneath the weight of his scorn. Then he stopped, his eyes widening just a fraction before a slow, deliberate grin crept over his lips.

"Ah, here we go," Aidan murmured, his voice hushed as if savoring a secret. "This should be interesting."

I could barely breathe, watching as his gaze traced the lines I’d penned on a night when honesty had flowed too freely from my heart. The words blurred before me, but I knew them by heart—a confession etched in ink, a moment of raw truth.

"’Despite everything,’" he read aloud, and I flinched at the sound of my own thoughts voiced through his sneering tone, "’there’s something about Aidan that tugs at my heart. Maybe it’s the way he seems so lost, so alone...’" He paused, tilting his head to look at me, the surprise flickering in his eyes like a shadow chased by light. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

My hands curled into fists, the nails biting into my palms as if I could hold back the storm within. "Aidan, please..." My voice was a whisper, a feeble attempt to reel back the dignity that hung by a thread.

But he pounced on the vulnerability like a predator, his laughter sharp and biting. "Lost and alone, huh? What are you, my therapist or something?" He shook his head, mocking disbelief painting his features. "I didn’t take you for the delusional type, Ivy. Fancying yourself in love with the school’s bad boy?"

The heat of shame scorched my cheeks, tears welling up unbidden.

"Stop it, Aidan," I managed, the plea tangled in a throat constricted by hurt. "It’s not like that."

"Sure, it’s not." He leaned back against the desk, arms crossed as he surveyed me with an arrogance that sent fury and fear battling through my veins. "You’re just another silly girl writing fairy tales in her diary. Poor, sweet Ivy falling for the guy who can’t stand her."

The first tear escaped.

"Give it back," I choked out, voice barely above a whisper, laced with a trembling plea. "Please, Aidan. That’s mine."

"Aw, is Ivy going to cry now?" He feigned concern, tilting his head as if examining a specimen too delicate to touch. My heart pounded like a drum in my ches.

The room blurred as tears spilled over, hot and unrelenting. I swiped at them angrily, ashamed of this display of weakness in front of him.

"Stop being such a jerk!" I snapped, the words muffled by the lump in my throat. But even as they left my lips, I knew they were empty, powerless against his scorn.

"Or what? You’ll write another entry about me?" Aidan’s laughter was like gravel, grating and cold.

I hugged myself tightly, shoulders heaving as sobs clawed their way up from my belly.

"Please, just stop," I begged between gasps for air, my voice breaking under the strain. "You don’t understand."

"Look at you," Aidan continued, his voice now a distant echo beneath the flood of my sorrow. "Crying over a guy who could never..."

I tried to speak, but only a choked sob escaped. The diary—the sacred keeper of my secrets—still clasped in his hand, now felt like a burning brand against my soul. But then, something shifted.

Aidan moved then, a sudden flurry of motion that was at odds with his earlier cruelty. The leather-bound book was returned to its place on the shelf.

"Ivy," he said softly. "Look at me."

I hesitated, then lifted my gaze to meet his.

"Stop crying. I am not worth it," he said.

I said nothing, tears still falling off my eyes like they were a broken faucet.

He sighed and gently touched my chin with his hand. "I can never make you happy," he murmured softly. "Whatever you feel for me, just forget about it and find yourself some nice guy, alright? No need to waste your breath thinking about me." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"You could’ve just said this without being so cruel to me," I said. "Or is it because you...you can’t help it because you hate me so much?" I pouted.

The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound being my sniffles and this breathing.

I could see the faint creases on his forehead as he tried to process what I’d just said. Then, he glanced down at his hand on my chin.

Aiden took a deep breath and leaned in closer, eyes searching mine with a fierce intensity I’d never seen before. His warm breath tickled my cheek as he whispered, "I don’t hate you."

And then, before I could even blink, his lips were on mine.

Oh, he was kissing me again? This boy was so confusing!

His kiss was intense and demanding yet gentle at the same time. The taste of his mouth was like cinnamon gum and something uniquely Aidan, spicy yet sweet. My heart thrummed wildly in my chest as he held me close, one hand cradling my face while the other rested lightly on my lower back.

We broke apart after what felt like hours but was probably just minutes.

"I...I’m sorry," he mumbled, backing away as if I’d burned him.

He wouldn’t apologize for being cruel to me but he would apologize for this!?

"I don’t accept your apology, asshole!" I snarled.

A strangled laugh escaped him. "What?"

"I am tired of playing games. You clearly like me, Aidan so stop with the bullying," I said, glaring at him.

"Oh, you think so?" he smirked.

"Yes. If you don’t want to be with me then its fine. But I won’t let you play with my feelings anymore," I declared.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" he asked.

"Be my friend," I blurted out.

Aidan’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "Your friend?" he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief.

I nodded. "Yes. Just... be my friend. No more teasing, no more mind games. No more kissing me out of the blue. Just... friendship."

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before finally nodding. "Alright," he said, surprising me. "I can try."

"Thank you," I whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

He returned the smile, a ghost of his usual smirk playing at the edges. "Don’t thank me yet. You might regret it," he said, then reached out to wipe the tears off my cheeks.

I rolled my eyes, the tension between us easing with the familiar banter. "Most likely since you, you are a psychopath," I retorted, a playful gleam in my eye.

We stood there in silence, just looking at one another for a moment until my mom’s voice floated from downstairs.

"The dinner’s almost ready, Ivy. Tell your friend, he has to stay and eat with us!" she said.

I shot Aidan a questioning look, unsure of how he would react to my mom’s invitation.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his expression shifting from surprise to something resembling uncertainty. Then, after a brief pause, he nodded slowly. "Uh, sure. Thanks, Mrs. Williams," he called back, his voice a little strained but polite.