Accusations and Unspoken Apology

Caleb's POV

​"Nina, calm down. Look at me, it's me, Caleb," I told her, my voice laced with nervousness. It wasn't my intention to scare her, but she was unusually late this time, and worry had compelled me to wait for her at the bus stop. Even though our family was wealthy, our parents had raised us to be independent, believing we should learn from our own hardships. She hadn't answered any of my calls, and I was worried she was still upset about the night before. I honestly didn't know how to face her; I had clearly lost control of myself again.

​She stared at me, tears welling in her eyes, still recovering from the shock. I helped her stand and noticed her knees were scraped and bleeding. I muttered an apology, then turned my back to her and crouched down. "Come on," I urged her, "it looks like you'll have trouble walking with that knee." I heard her grumble, but she relented and hopped onto my back.

​When we reached the house, I gently lowered her onto the sofa and quickly retrieved the cleaning solution and Band-Aids from our emergency kit. Thankfully, it was just a scrape. I took off her shoes and knelt to properly apply the antiseptic. She winced, but still didn't say a word.

​After treating her wound, I sat beside her. "Why didn't you answer any of my calls?" I asked, frustration mounting. "Where were you so late? Don't tell me you were slacking off with some guys." The last part just blurted out. I was so frustrated and the thought of her being in a late-night engagement with some random guy just fueled my jealousy.

​She immediately shot back, "Why do you care? It's not like I'm still a minor. If I wanted a boyfriend, I could have one as I wish. You don't have the right to tell me what to do! I'm not even meddling with your relationship with my best friend—I mean, ex-best friend. And why, instead of worrying about me, apologizing for my knees, and explaining about last night, are you accusing me of playing around with a man? Am I a whore to you?! I hate you, Caleb!"

​Nina stormed off toward her room, struggling with every step because of her injured knees. I wanted to chase after her, but I was frozen, lost for words. I didn't mean any of it; I was just worried sick about her. I really messed up. "I'm sorry, Nina," I thought, but the words wouldn't leave my lips.

​I decided to heat up the meal I had prepared earlier for us. I hadn't eaten because I was too worried. I took the food upstairs and went to her room. I knocked, but she didn't respond. The door was locked when I tried the handle, so I told her that if she felt better, or if she was hungry, I'd just leave the food outside her door, and that she shouldn't skip her meals.

​The clock on the wall seemed to tick slower than usual, counting out every minute of my regret. I wanted to avoid her, or rather, I wanted her to distance herself from me. I had never expected her to feel the same way about me—I was happy and sad at the same time when she confessed. Happy because I loved her too, not as a sister, but as a woman, but sad because I wasn't sure if she truly understood those feelings since she was still young. She might be mixing familial love with romantic love. And worst of all, we were family. Why did she have to be my stepsister? I was torn between wanting her and needing to protect her. Sometimes, I just couldn't control my desire. I wanted to kiss her so badly; I wanted to make her mine. I wanted us to go somewhere far away and live our lives together. But I was scared. I was scared I couldn't give her all the things she deserved in life. I was scared I would make her life miserable. So, I must not touch her until I could make a name for myself.

​Morning came, and when I woke up, Nina was already gone. I saw her food, untouched, sitting on the kitchen sink. She must still be upset with me. I didn't know how to make it up to her.

​Nina's POV

​I was shocked to see it was Caleb, and yet relieved at the same time. Part of me wanted to yell at him for scaring me like that. With my knees sore and bleeding, he urged me to hop on his back. I hesitantly allowed him to give me a piggyback ride, resting my face against his back. I could still remember how he used to do this when we were young, whenever we played outside and I was too tired to walk home. I wished we could stay like this forever.

​When we reached the house and he sat me down on the sofa, I felt embarrassed as he took off my shoes and began to treat my wounds. I could feel his breath and that familiar tingling sensation from his touch, making my heart melt. But I was abruptly pulled back to reality as the pain from the alcohol hit my knees. I wanted to scream, but I didn't want him to make fun of me.

​After he dressed my wound, he sat beside me and asked why I hadn't been answering his calls. I was about to explain, but I got cut off and ended up frustrated when he accused me of being late because of a guy. How could he be such a jerk and so insensitive? Did he think I would just sleep with some random guy? We got into a heated argument, and I stormed out.

​Even though my knees hurt, the pain inside my chest hurt more. I locked myself in my room, crying and thinking that maybe he truly thought I wasn't a virgin anymore, and that I would easily give myself to anyone who wanted me. Why did he even care, anyway? It's not like he felt the same way about me. Why did he have to be so harsh? Why did he always say the most hurtful words? Did he hate me that much?

​A couple of minutes passed, and I was getting hungry since I had only eaten snacks with Gina. I heard a knock on the door, but I didn't answer. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to eat his food. I didn't want anything from him. I forced myself to sleep, but I never had a good night's rest. I woke up early and hurried off to the university without eating anything. I'll just eat with Gina later.

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