Chapter 450: Pretend I Don’t Exist

Chapter 450: Pretend I Don’t Exist


At the beach, Micah looked at Darcy with widening eyes.


Darcy watched his reaction. His lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk before he stood up abruptly. "Don’t say what you don’t mean."


"No." Micah tilted his head. "Are you being sarcastic? You? What happened to you? You’ve never been like this."


Darcy’s voice dropped, cold and clipped. "You don’t know me at all."


"That’s not true," Micah said quickly, rising to his feet. "I don’t know what you meant by killing, but you saved me. I will do anything as long as it’s not illegal..."


Darcy turned, eyes sharp. "I did what I did as a human being. If it were anyone else, I’d have done the same. So don’t assume you are special or something. End of story." Darcy cut him off, already walking away.


Micah followed, the sand sticking to his flip-flops. "Wait a minute! Why are you acting like this? Is it all because I didn’t let you say what you wanted yesterday? This doesn’t make sense. If you are angry, fine, but at least be for the right reason! Be mad that I took your place in the Ramsy family! Not because I didn’t want to talk about your feelings..."


"Shut the fuck up," Darcy snapped, spinning around. His voice cracked with raw emotion. "Feeling? What feelings? Who do you think you are? You think everyone falls for you? Wake up! I’m not like them!"


Micah froze, the words hitting harder than the ocean current had. "What are you talking about? Who’s them?" he asked, incredulous. His voice was filled with hurt and confusion.


Darcy exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his dark, damp hair. "Nothing. I was just..." he muttered. "Forget it." He took a step back, shoulders tense. "I don’t need your apology. And I don’t need your debt. Just..." He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Just pretend I do not exist. Stay out of my life."


He turned and started walking away. The fading sun cast a long shadow behind him.


Micah stood in the sand, in bewilderment. His hands trembled around the half-empty bottle, the plastic crinkling under his grip.


"What the hell happened?" he mumbled under his breath, confused.


Darcy didn’t look back. His figure disappeared into the villa.


Micah stared after him, eyes stung. He couldn’t comprehend what Darcy was saying. Was he the same person he had spent more than two months with? Was he the one who ran to him at this exact same beach, panic-stricken, and kissed him on the lips like it meant something?


He sank onto the sand, burying his face in his hands. The ache in his chest had nothing physical about it now. It was sharp, twisting, and unbearable.


Why was Darcy like this? Like it was a completely different person? Why did his eyes, which once softened every time they met, now look at him like he was a stranger?


The thought of being a stranger to Darcy flashed in Micah’s mind, terrifying him.


Time passed while Micah was still in a trance.


He stood on the beach, his toes sinking into the damp sand as waves rolled lazily up the shore. The salty wind whipped through his silver-white hair, cooling the skin on his face that still stung from tears.


He didn’t move. Couldn’t.


Darcy’s figure had long disappeared down the beach and into the villa. Yet Micah kept staring after his foot track on the sand as if the sheer force of longing could make him reappear.


He was utterly dumbfounded by how everything had unfolded. And more than confusion, it was the hollow ache in the chest that tormented him.


He had truly lost Darcy. As a friend. As a brother. Maybe as something even more precious than either.


Micah laughed bitterly under his breath. "You did it again," he whispered to himself. "You ruined something you cherished with your own hands."


He understood now, nothing would fix what was broken between them. No apology. No gesture. No explanation could stitch it back together. Darcy’s last words still echoed in his mind, sharp and cold. "Just pretend I don’t exist."


Micah pressed his trembling hands against his eyes. It was his fault. All of it.


He would just have to grit his teeth and reap what he had sown. It was his own doing, wasn’t it?


He had been too optimistic, too simple-minded. He thought if he kept showing kindness, if he helped Darcy, if he stayed by his side through small things, the real young master would forgive him, would think of him at least as a friend.


But he had thought too beautifully. His guilt had been mistaken for affection, his sincerity twisted into something he never meant. He had led the young man to believe he had feelings for him, believed every word, every look, every act of care meant love.


Micah’s lips trembled. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.


The reality? The truth? It was all just guilt. A desperate attempt to make up for what had been taken from Darcy years ago. And now that guilt had turned into poison between them.


"Snap out of it," he muttered, slapping both cheeks slightly.


He should tolerate it. This was nothing compared to the hardship Darcy had gone through.


He took a shaky breath and turned toward the gentle hiss of the sea. The waves washed over his ankles, cool and steady, as if mocking his turmoil. He stood there until his breath evened out, until the burn behind his eyes dulled into numbness.


Then he pulled out his phone. The screen flickered to life. His thumb hovered over a familiar name before pressing the call button.


The ringing barely lasted a second.


"Micah?" Clyde’s voice came through immediately, warm but laced with concern.


Micah’s heart jumped into his throat. His grip tightened on the phone. "I love you," he blurted out before he lost his courage. But the words were as faint as an ant’s footsteps.


Then... came the pause.