ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 276: Why did you leave?

Chapter 276

KATYA POV

Dinner ended the way it had begun—quietly, with too many unspoken things lingering between the walls, pressing into the spaces where conversation should have been.

Plates were cleared with soft efficiency, cutlery gathered, chairs pushed back in careful increments. Polite goodnights followed one after another, each one layered with restraint.

Elena disappeared first, the baby already half-asleep against her shoulder, her movements gentle and practiced.

Chiara followed shortly after, stretching dramatically as she yawned, shooting me a look that was far too knowing for my comfort. I chose to ignore it, focusing instead on breathing like a normal person.

Nonna remained seated.

Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, posture composed, eyes still sharp even as fatigue tugged faintly at the lines of her face. I should have known better than to relax.

"Katya," she said calmly, her tone polite but absolute. "Please see Michael out."

My stomach dropped.

I opened my mouth—just slightly—already scrambling for an excuse. Something believable. Something harmless. I was tired. My head hurt. I suddenly remembered something urgent upstairs. Anything.

But Nonna was already looking at me, expectant and unyielding.

"Yes, Nonna," I replied softly, because there was no version of this where I said no and survived it with my dignity intact.

Michael stood, offering her a respectful nod before turning toward her fully. "Thank you again for dinner, ma’am."

Nonna smiled faintly, the kind of smile that meant more than it showed. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Michael. I hope to see you around again. Safe travels."

What?!

I stared at her internally. She didn’t just—did she? That sounded dangerously close to an invitation. Or permission. Or encouragement to visit here whenever he wants.

And just like that, I was trapped.

Michael turned to me, fully now, waiting. I pivoted quickly, before my face could betray me. "Follow me," I said, already heading toward the front door.

The walk felt longer than it ever had before.

The house was quieter now, the echoes of dinner fading into the low hum of night settling in. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, each step measured, careful—like I was navigating something fragile that might shatter if I moved too fast.

Michael walked beside me, not too close, not too far.

Close enough that I was aware of the warmth of his presence, the subtle shift of air when he moved. Far enough that neither of us had to acknowledge it outright.

Neither of us spoke.

The silence wasn’t hostile.

It was worse.

It was loaded.

I could feel the questions hanging between us like static, brushing against my skin with every step. Everything that hadn’t been said. Everything that probably should have been.

Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, biting slightly after the warmth of the house. The front door closed behind us with a soft but final sound, sealing us into the moment.

His car was parked just beyond the gate, dark and unassuming beneath the glow of the driveway lights.

We walked a few more steps.

Still nothing.

I told myself I could make it the whole way without speaking. That this could end neatly—with a polite goodbye, a thank-you, and distance. Clean. Simple. Safe.

Then Michael broke the silence.

"You look beautiful tonight."

His voice was calm, low—almost careful, like he knew he was stepping onto uncertain ground.

Why would he say something like that?

I slowed, then stopped altogether. My fingers tightened around the thin fabric of my clutch as heat crept stubbornly up my neck and settled on my cheeks.

The night suddenly felt warmer than it had seconds ago.

I didn’t turn to face him right away. Instead, I stared ahead—at the iron gate, at the faint outline of his car, at anything that wasn’t the weight of his words pressing squarely against my chest.

"Michael," I said, my voice softer than I intended.

I finally looked at him—just briefly—and immediately regretted it.

His gaze wasn’t intense or sharp like yesterday. It was open. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache. Like he was seeing more than the dress, more than the moment.

"I remember it," he continued, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "The dress."

My breath caught despite myself.

"I remember standing there, wondering if red would be too much," he said with a faint smile. "Wondering if you’d ever actually wear it."

I swallowed. "It’s... it’s just a dress."

"It’s not," he said simply. "Not to me."

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of how the fabric hugged me, how Chiara had insisted on every detail tonight as if she’d known this moment was inevitable.

I crossed my arms loosely—a useless attempt at shielding myself. "Well," I muttered, trying and failing to sound casual, "thanks. I didn’t even know if it would still fit."

"It fits," he said, then quickly added, catching himself, "I mean—yeah. It fits. Really well."

God.

I let out a small, awkward laugh that carried no real humor. "You don’t look... bad yourself," I said, immediately hating how that sounded. "I mean—not bad. You look... fine. Good. Normal-good."

Smooth, Katya. Very smooth.

His lips twitched, amusement flickering briefly across his face. "High praise."

I groaned quietly and looked away again. "Please don’t make this weirder than it already is."

"I’m not trying to," he said quickly. "I swear."

Another pause settled between us—not heavy this time. Just uncertain. Like we were both testing the ground, unsure which step might crack something open.

We resumed walking, slower now. I could feel his presence beside me more acutely than before. Every step felt deliberate. Measured.

As if we both knew this short stretch of driveway carried more weight than it should have.

"I really didn’t expect you to wear it," he said after a moment. "So... thanks. For that."

I nodded, unsure what else to give him. "Chiara found it," I admitted quietly. "She wouldn’t let it go."

He hummed softly, unsurprised.

Silence returned again—stretching, thinning, thickening all at once. My nerves buzzed under my skin, thoughts colliding in messy spirals.

Please just get to your car.

Please let this end here.

Please don’t—

"Katya."

My name on his tongue stopped me cold.

I turned slowly this time, already bracing myself.

His expression had shifted. The lightness was gone, replaced by something steadier. More deliberate.

"Why did you leave?"

There it was. Not dressed up. Not softened. Just the question.