One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 165: Chapter 165

The rain fell in soft sheets as Elijah sat on the porch steps, hoodie pulled low, guitar untouched beside him. He hadn’t played in days. Not since the message.
“I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s me. I think we need space.”
Eight words.
Eight gut-punching syllables that replayed in his head like a broken lyric.
Elijah wasn’t dramatic by nature. He was steady, dependable. The brother everyone leaned on, the one who remembered birthdays and brought snacks to late-night study sessions.
But when Carter ended it—without warning, without a real explanation—he unraveled.
Arielle watched him through the window, her heart aching.
It had started like most high school romances: with a note scribbled in a notebook margin, shared glances in history class, and an accidental brush of hands that set his world spinning.
Carter was everything Elijah didn’t expect to fall for—loud, reckless, a bit of a flirt. But he had this way of seeing Elijah. Not as the dependable one. Not as the boy who had it all together. Just… him.
They lasted six months.
And then, as quickly as it bloomed, it wilted.
Damien came home to find Arielle packing.
“We need to take them away,” she said.
He glanced outside, saw Elijah—drenched, unmoving.
He nodded. “Where?”
“Somewhere with saltwater and stars.”
Within three hours, the family was on the road.
No explanations.
No questions.
Just a change of scenery and an open horizon.
The beach house was modest but warm. Tucked between dunes and sea oats, it creaked with history and promise. The air was salt and wind. The kind of place that asked nothing of you but presence.
Elijah didn’t speak the first night. He walked the shoreline until his feet were raw. Then sat by the window until dawn.
The others gave him space.
Aiden painted. Leila journaled. Amara wrote songs she never played aloud.
Julian skipped stones across the water like he was trying to split it open.
On the third day, Arielle brought Elijah a mug of tea.
He didn’t take it.
“Heartbreak,” she said, sitting beside him on the sand, “feels like dying. But it’s really just rebirth wearing a cruel disguise.”
Elijah chuckled bitterly. “Poetic, Mom.”
“I had mine at seventeen. He kissed me in the rain and ghosted me by New Year’s.”
He turned. “Really?”
“I wrote about him in every journal until I met your father. Then I realized I was never in love with him—just with being seen.”
“I thought Carter saw me.”
“Maybe he did,” Arielle said. “But maybe he couldn’t hold it.”
That night, Damien pulled Elijah aside.
“No pressure,” he said, handing over a guitar pick.
Elijah frowned.
“Just… when you’re ready.”
By the fifth night, they built a bonfire.
No phones. No distractions. Just waves and stars and breath.
Amara sang something soft. Leila read a passage from a book she loved. Julian told a dumb joke that made them all laugh more than they should’ve.
Then Elijah stood.
Everyone quieted.
He held the guitar like it was made of glass. His hands trembled as he strummed. The chords were raw. Unpolished. But his voice—his voice cracked like truth.
“I loved someone who didn’t stay, But I stayed with the echoes anyway. I lost my way in someone’s eyes, Now I find myself beneath these skies.”
When he finished, no one clapped.
They just sat with it.
With him.
With the ache that had finally found its shape.
Aiden leaned over, bumping Elijah’s shoulder.
“Heartbreak Hotel’s got good acoustics.”
Elijah smiled for the first time in days.
In the morning, he wrote Carter’s name in the sand
Then let the tide wash it away.
He didn’t need closure.
He just needed himself.
And he was finally ready to come home.