Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
O phelia came into view just as the sun finished cresting the horizon, washing the stone walls of the outposts in molten gold. We slowed our horses to a trot, the clatter of hooves echoing in the hush of early morning.
Before Maalikai could dismount, Sebastian lifted a hand to stop him.
“Thrainn needs you for the day.”
Maalikai looked just as confused as I felt. “Why me?”
“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise,” Sebastian said, adjusting his reins, “but we got word from Oryx’s army—they’re on their way. And because of your knowledge of the Western Warriors, Thrainn thought it’d be smart to have you help prepare the welcome. Just so we don’t accidentally offend them and risk another warlord deciding to raze Ophelia to the ground.”
Maalikai exhaled through his nose. “Thanks, I guess.”
“He wants you there too, E,” Sebastian added, turning to Evie. “Something about introducing you as the next Chieftain, establishing relations—blah, blah, diplomatic fluff.”
“Me?” Her face went ghost-white.
“You are the rightful heir to his throne,” Sebastian said, with the kind of casual flourish only he could pull off.
“But I’m not,” she whispered. “Not really. You are.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “We both know my place is beside Em. Besides, you’d be better at it. I’d get bored in five minutes. I prefer breaking rules to making them.”
Evie’s eyes searched his face. “Are you sure?”
“Never more than I am right now.”
Then she looked at me—really looked at me. “What if I screw up?”
“You’ll be perfect,” I said, the words steady even though my chest ached. “And if you do screw up... we’ll be there to catch you.”
She glanced between us, tears brimming in her eyes, her throat working as she swallowed them down.
“Thank you.”
I watched her ride off beside Maalikai, a strange pride swelling behind my ribs. She looked small. But strong.
She would conquer this.
She was born to lead.
I turned to Sebastian. “Okay. What are we doing today?”
His grin was already forming. “Now that... is a surprise. Follow me.”
Once we reached the outskirts of Ophelia, Sebastian slowed just long enough to swing up onto Orion. The motion was fluid, practiced—his silhouette cutting a striking figure against the backdrop of golden fields. Without a word, I followed suit, guiding Stormfire after him as the wind tugged at my cloak.
Minutes passed in a blur of hoofbeats and sunlight. Then, like titans rising from the earth, the familiar cliffs surged into view—towers of stone carved by time, jagged and massive. They loomed around us, swallowing the sky. They always made me feel small in the best possible way.
These cliffs were sacred.
Apart from the Aelinthian Forrest and the cliffs near home, this was the one place I always returned to.
When I was younger, my father had brought me here—along with Evie and Sebastian—to chase the sunset across the rocks. Even after Evie had drifted away into girlhood distractions, my father, Sebastian, and I still came back. Sometimes we’d camp beneath the stars, building fires and telling stories until the embers burned low.
A dull ache stirred in my chest, but it didn’t cut like it used to. That empty space where grief used to live had slowly filled, not replaced, but softened—by Maalikai’s quiet steadiness and Sebastian’s ever-burning light. And Evie–my beloved Evie–her moonlight, her heart made of stardust and all thing magical.
Somehow, I knew my father would’ve been proud of the person I’d become because of them.
Instead of stopping at the usual spot, Sebastian urged Jet forward. We kept riding until the cliffs closed in like a cathedral of stone. Only then did he pull his mount to a stop.
I hadn’t even realized I was still staring skyward until Sebastian’s voice broke the silence.
“Ahem.”
My gaze dropped. Sebastian stood below me, hand outstretched. The sun caught the amber in his eyes, and for a moment, he looked golden—untouchable.
Like a God.
Almost in a daze, I slid from the saddle. His hands caught me mid-descent, firm and gentle, like I was something precious. He didn’t let go right away.
“You alright?” he asked softly, eyes searching mine.
I nodded, my voice caught somewhere in the back of my throat. “Good.” His smile turned playful. “Because I’m about to blow your freaking mind.”
I rolled my eyes but let him guide me by the hand, our fingers naturally finding their familiar fit. Together we walked toward the jagged rock face. I expected him to veer left toward the narrow cliff trail—but he stopped short, nearly causing me to stumble into him.
“What the—Sebastian?—?”
“This is it,” he whispered, like he was unveiling a treasure.
I leaned around him, squinting. Nothing looked out of place—just the weathered face of the cliff and an overgrown berry bush hugging the base.
Before I could question it, Sebastian crouched low and pushed aside the dense branches, revealing a narrow opening just wide enough to crawl through.
“Are you insane ?” I hissed.
He didn’t answer—just disappeared inside with a muffled, “Are you coming or not?”
I stared after him, silence stretching as the leaves swayed gently in the breeze. Gods, how many stupid things had I followed this boy into?
Too many to count.
Still muttering curses under my breath, I dropped to my knees and crawled in after him—toward Gods knew what kind of reckless death lay at the end of this rock tunnel.
The tunnel was narrower—and deeper—than I’d expected. Each inch forward scraped against my spine, damp stone pressing in on both sides like a creature closing its jaws. The air was heavy with moisture and earth, thick with the scent of moss and something older—ancient.
Being this close to the cliffs that lined the sea, I could hear the distant rumble of waves, like the ocean itself was waiting to claim us.
With every breath, hysteria clawed closer. The walls seemed to whisper against my skin, greedy and closing. Claustrophobia licked at the edges of my thoughts.
How Sebastian had fit through here without getting stuck was beyond me.
And still, I crawled.
There was no light, no sense of distance—only darkness and the echo of my shallow breathing. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, the space shifted. Air changed. The tight pressure of stone gave way—and I tumbled into something vast.
Cool air kissed my skin, wet and rich like rainfall in spring. It wasn’t the stale, dead air I’d braced for—it breathed .
I paused on all fours, chest heaving, the phantom grip of the tunnel still clinging to my back.
Then slowly, I rose.
The space was dark, but not void. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like daggers of bone, glistening with moisture. Shadows shifted against the stone like breathing things.
Fingers brushed mine—warm, grounding.
Sebastian.
Without a word, he threaded our hands together, and something in my chest steadied.
“Follow me,” he whispered.
There was no point arguing. I let him lead me deeper. The ground beneath our feet was uneven, and I stumbled more than once over loose stones, but he never let go. The further we went, the more the cavern felt like something out of a dream—wrong and right all at once. Foreign, but… familiar. Like it had always been waiting.
Soon, we were walking side by side. The path widened and narrowed unpredictably—one moment barely wide enough for our shoulders to brush, the next stretching open wide enough to march an army through. The walls gleamed faintly with damp lichen, each step echoing softly into the silence.
Then we rounded a bend.
And the world changed.
The cavern exploded outward, a hollow the size of a cathedral carved into the bones of the earth. The roof stretched so high I nearly lost my balance craning upward.
My mouth parted, but no sound came.
Blue.
The entire ceiling was dappled in what looked like stars—no, not stars. It couldn’t be, it was still daylight outside . But it was glowing like melting constellations, scattered across the rock above in drifts of soft, celestial light.
Every drop of water from the stalactites echoed like the drip of a holy altar. Every flame along the wall flickered like a breath caught in reverence.
I couldn’t move.
And then I saw the carvings.
The walls weren’t natural. They’d been chiseled, shaped— crafted . Elegant columns lined the chamber, each one carved in smooth spirals, rising into the dark like pillars meant to hold up the sky. At the top of each column sat wide copper bowls, and inside them: flames. Pale orange fire that didn’t smoke, that didn’t sputter—just danced slowly, casting flickering light that mingled with the blue bioluminescence.
It looked like magik reborn.
“What in the actual heck…” I breathed.
This couldn’t be real. This cavern—this temple , because that’s what it was—too precise, too beautiful, too sacred to be random. I half expected a glowing deity to descend from the ceiling and demand an offering.
“I don’t know if we should be here,” I whispered. “It feels… holy. But not in the safe way.”
Sebastian didn’t seem worried. If anything, he looked amused. “Why?”
“What if this is some hidden entrance to Elinthia or something?”
His laugh echoed around us like it belonged here. “If that’s the case, then I’m not worried. Not if I’m with you.”
A snort escaped me. “Why? Because they’ll be too busy punishing me for all the rules I’ve broken and you’ll slip away unnoticed?”
He stepped closer, eyes glittering. “No. Because in a room full of Gods… you’d still be the one I’d bet on.”
That made me pause–my heart cracking wide open, like he’d peeled back something I hadn’t meant to reveal. And suddenly I felt too seen.
My eyes lowered, unable to hold the weight of his stare. Tentatively, I skimmed my fingers across the nearest pillar, trailing through condensation. The stone was slick and cold, humming with something I couldn’t name.
“You’re impossible.”
He grinned. “You say that like it’s news.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then his voice turned thoughtful. “I don’t think this place belongs to the Gods. The flames, the carvings… they’re for someone who needs light. Not someone who is the light.”
I nodded, slowly. “There’s no way they carved all this through that tiny tunnel.”
“There must be another entrance,” he agreed.
“Besides,” he said, tipping his head back, “the lights aren’t stars. They look like… living creatures. Almost like worms.”
“Glow worms,” I breathed. Awe stole the edges of my voice. “I’ve always wanted to see them.”
A memory surfaced—one I hadn’t touched in years. “Olag once told me a story about two children who got lost in a cave and found their way out by following glow worms. I thought he made it up. Swore it was a bedtime lie.”
But it hadn’t been.
They were real. Existing.
Right here.
Another laugh escaped me, soft and disbelieving. It echoed through the cavern like it belonged there, bouncing off stone and shadows. “Worms that literally glow.”
Sebastian turned toward me then, and the sight of him—bathed in ethereal light, the blue glow softening his sharp jaw and setting his eyes on fire—stole the air from my lungs.
Gods, he was beautiful.
“Exactly,” he said, that boyish grin blooming like sunshine through storm clouds.
“You are utterly ridiculous,” I murmured, unable to look away.
But the truth was... in that moment, I’d have believed anything he told me. This place made belief easy.
“It’s true,” he insisted, nudging my shoulder with his. “Olag wasn’t lying. And let’s be honest, this skepticism is coming from a woman who can shoot fireballs from her hands.”
“Touche.”
Our steps echoed gently, reverently. Like the cave itself was holding its breath.
“But,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him, “you honestly expect me to believe you climbed the side of this cavern to see them up close? The walls are slick with water—you’d have slipped and broken your pretty little neck.”
His grin turned devilish, crooked and full of mischief. “Didn’t have to. Half a mile in, the floor drops into a pool. If you follow the stream, you can get so close it feels like you’re walking through stars.”
My breath caught. The thought of it— glowing creatures so close I could touch them —was breathtaking.
“You’re a liar!”
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Wanna find out?”
Gods.
My heart fluttered, traitorous and eager. Of course I shouldn’t. But of course I would .
I met his outstretched hand, letting my fingers fall into the spaces between his. “Heck yes.”
His hand closed around mine—warm, sure, and familiar. I was stepping into something wild and chaotic, something that could unmake me... but I felt utterly safe.
With Sebastian, I always had.
We walked in silence, his excitement vibrating through every step like a current I couldn’t resist. The stone softened beneath our feet, damp and smooth. Water trickled somewhere ahead, guiding us like a thread spun by the Gods themselves.
Then, he stopped.
“Wait.”
I turned to him just in time to see him pull something from his pocket—a strip of cloth, black as midnight.
I blinked. “What’s that for?”
He moved behind me, gently brushing my hair aside. “Trust me?”
“Always.” Breath poured from me like surrender.
Cool fingers brushed my temples as he slipped the blindfold over my eyes, tying it snugly behind my head. I was plunged into darkness, the only tether to reality the warmth of his hand still wrapped around mine.
“One more surprise,” he whispered.
And I knew—whatever came next would live in my bones forever.
Guiding me forward, he led me through the cave–silence wrapping around us like something beyond ethereal. Then without warning, he stopped. A heartbeat passed and then another. Then the blindfold slipped from my eyes, and I forgot how to breathe.
Before me lay a blanket stretched across the stone floor, scattered with wildflowers—sunbursts of gold, blush pinks, and violets tangled between plush pillows. Half-melted beeswax candles flickered like trapped stars, their soft glow painting the cavern in gold. The air shimmered faintly with magik, the scent of honeycomb curling around us—warm, familiar, achingly tender.
Delicate threads of gold magik licked at the cave’s edges, weaving lazy spirals through the mist. Overhead, glowworms clung to the ceiling like constellations spun in silk—each one glowing with a pale, blue incandescence that made the pool below gleam like liquid moonlight.
It was magik—pure, gentle magik. And it took me a full heartbeat to realize…
He’d done this.
For me.
I turned to him, disbelieving. “You did all this?”
Sebastian stood beside me, silent. Waiting. Not expectant. Just... hoping.
“I thought you deserved something that was just yours,” he said softly.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Because this was more than a gesture. This was love. This was everything.
And I still hadn’t chosen. Gods, I still hadn’t chosen between them. Still couldn’t give myself completely to him—even though I knew he had already given everything to me.
“Bastian…”
“It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. Because we both knew this could be goodbye.
The kind of goodbye that doesn’t scream—it whispers. The kind that carves you from the inside out and leaves you bleeding in silence. The kind only given when you love someone so much it hurts to breathe.
And I hated it.
Gods, I hated it.
Because even now, when he was offering me his soul, I couldn’t give him certainty. I couldn’t promise forever.
But I could give him this.
I could give him now.
I stepped forward, heart thundering, my fingers threading into his hair—soft and wild beneath my touch. His breath caught, but he didn’t pull away.
Didn’t dare.
I guided his lips to mine—slowly, deliberately—tasting him, claiming him, like I’d waited lifetimes just to know the shape of this moment. His mouth met mine with quiet urgency, and the world around us vanished—the cave, the silence, everything.
All that existed was this: his mouth, my hands, and the fire blooming low and hot beneath my skin.
He touched me like I was sacred. Like I was already slipping through his fingers. And maybe I was. Because every kiss, every whispered breath against my skin begged—Choose me. Stay.
But I wasn’t sure if I could.
So I gave him everything else.
My body. My fire. My heart, splintered and trembling and still his.
“I love you,” I choked, the words torn from my ribs. “I’m so sorry I can’t give you more.”
He kissed the apology from my lips, his eyes burning into mine.
“You’ve already given me everything.”
His hands slid down to my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around him without thought—instinctive, possessive, like he was already mine and I couldn’t bear to let go. I felt the shape of him—solid strength, barely restrained desire.
Heat.
Power.
Emotion wound so tightly it could snap.
And the way he held me…
Gods. It undid something in me.
This wasn’t just lust. This was everything we’d never said.
Then he claimed my mouth—and the world fell away.
It wasn’t soft.
It was a collapse.
It was surrender.
And I had no idea where it would end—only that I needed it to keep going.
He moved before I could speak, carrying me like I was something hallowed. Like he’d waited years to earn the right. His grip was sure, every step a promise carved from need. Magik thickened the air around us. Candlelight flickered through the mist, catching on our skin—casting halos of gold and ghost-light.
He lowered me to the rug like I was his everything, something worth protecting. His hand braced beside my head. His thigh pressed between mine.
And the weight of him— Gods, the weight of him —settled over me like gravity had finally chosen a home.
Clothes clung to my skin, slick and stubborn, tracing every curve like a lover’s touch–like it ached to be ripped away. My breath came in shallow, broken waves.
And then his mouth found mine again.
No restraint.
No hesitation.
Just heat. Hunger. Devotion disguised as destruction. A storm of need and knowing.
His lips moved against mine with reckless need—demanding, consuming, breaking open everything I’d buried. He kissed me like he finally believed I was his to love.
My hands found his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, pulling him closer, deeper. His body pressed down, and I met him with equal desperation. I didn’t want careful. I wanted him—unapologetic and unfiltered.
His mouth trailed lower—my jaw, my throat, the delicate places that begged to be touched by him. Each kiss was a strike against my sanity.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice torn, breath shaking against my skin. “If you don’t—I won’t.”
I met his eyes, wide and unguarded. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Something broke in him. The sound he made—part growl, part confession—vibrated through me.
He kissed me again, slower now. Deeper. Like he needed to memorize me. Like he was carving this moment into memory.
His hands moved with reverent hunger—gliding down my ribs, over my hips, skimming the soaked edges of fabric clinging to my thighs. Every touch left a trail of lightning. I arched beneath him, hips lifting, begging silently for more.
“Gods, Em,” he groaned. “You undo me.”
“Then come undone,” I breathed.
And he did.
He kissed the hollow of my throat, the swell of my chest, lower—his mouth making promises in the language of touch. My thoughts scattered like ash on wind. Every brush of his lips branded me. Every exhale was a firestorm in my blood.
“You’re mine,” he growled, low and ragged. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped, voice trembling.
He groaned again, the sound primal, and then his fingers slid between my thighs.
And I broke.
Right there beneath him, I shattered—wild, aching, real. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t quiet. It tore through me like lightning through water, like wildfire kissing bone. My body arched, my cry fractured in the air—his name ripped from my throat like a battle cry and a benediction. Like I was begging the Gods and cursing them at the same time.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t look away. He held me as I unraveled—watched me burn and tremble and fall apart like I was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen.
When he finally moved over me again, we were both shaking.
Breathless.
Untamed.
Licked in fire.
His forehead pressed to mine. His lips brushed against my mouth, and then—he entered me.
Not gently.
Not cautiously.
But like he needed me to finally feel worthy.
I gasped, clinging to him, wrapping my legs tighter around his hips, grounding us both in the storm of it.
He moved—slow at first, then deeper, harder, until we were nothing but fire and breath and want. There was no space between us.
No logic.
No fear.
Just Sebastian.
Just me.
He whispered my name like a vow against my skin. Like he was carving it into the stars. And I gave him everything. Every gasp. Every moan. Every broken piece I’d hidden away.
We moved like we were made for this—like the world had conspired to bring us here.
To this place.
To this moment.
And when we came undone together—limbs tangled, hearts colliding—it felt like the universe shattered with us.
Like this was the place where all the stars came to burn.
We lay tangled together, breathless in the stillness.
His fingers traced idle patterns along my spine—the kind of touch that felt like forever. The kind that made you forget the world ever asked you to choose.
I shifted slightly, just enough to see his face in the soft glow of the cave. His lashes rested against his cheeks, his breath calm, like he hadn’t just handed me his soul. Like he hadn’t just become everything I could never keep.
But even wrapped in his arms, I could feel it—the ache creeping in around the edges. A quiet knowing that no amount of warmth could silence.
His breath still lingered on my skin—like a ghost of something I already knew I’d never feel again. Like he already sensed what I’d decided.
I moved without thinking, burying my face in his chest.
His heartbeat was thunder.
Familiar.
Safe.
“I love you, Em.”
The words didn’t just cut—they buried themselves in me. Like they were carving out space where something had once bloomed but now bled.
“I love you, too.”
His arms stiffened slightly around me. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I do.” My voice trembled. “You’ve seen every part of me—my best, my worst. And still… you love me.”
“I didn’t choose, Em,” he breathed. “My heart didn’t give me a choice. It will always want you. It will always be yours.”
Tears slipped free, silent but violent.
“Mine won’t let me choose Maalik… because it wants you.”
His eyes widened. The walls he’d built cracked—just for a second.
And his restraint shattered.
He kissed me.
It wasn’t soft.
It was a collision.
A thunderclap of everything we’d tried not to say.
He kissed me like he was trying to piece me back together—one shattered breath at a time.
“I thought I lost you to him,” he said against my lips, voice splintering. “And I didn’t know how to keep breathing.”
But then… he saw me.
Really saw me.
The tears. The guilt. The finality.
And I watched it happen. The moment the hope drained from his eyes.
“You’ve chosen him.”
It wasn’t a question. It was the sound of something dying.
I nodded.
Barely.
Like the motion itself might kill me.
“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I didn’t know until now.”
His hands dropped from my face. The space between us filled with something brutal. Heavy.
Unforgiving.
“You don’t have to soften the blow,” he said. “I can take it.”
“I’m not softening it,” I whispered. “I’m just… trying not to shatter while I say it.”
“Then don’t break me,” he begged. “Choose me.”
My heart split at the seams.
Because Gods, I wanted to.
But I couldn’t.
“As much as I want you—need you—I can’t choose you.”
He flinched, like I’d struck him.
“I love you too damn much,” I said, broken. “That’s why I can’t. Because if I choose you… and we fall apart… I won’t survive it.”
“You love me so much... you won’t let yourself be in love with me?” he whispered. A bitter, humorless laugh caught in his throat.
I nodded, tears falling freely now. “It’s not the kind of love I can survive.”
His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Losing you wouldn’t just hurt, Bastian. It would ruin me. And if I’m ruined... so is everything else. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk you.”
“And Maalik?”
“It’ll hurt,” I admitted. “But it won’t end me.”
Silence split us wide open.
“I don’t know how to live in a world without you,” I whispered. “So I won’t risk a love that could break the whole world if it breaks me.”
He moved closer, like he didn’t believe it. Like he couldn’t. “I don’t want to be your safe choice,” he said.
“You were never the safe choice,” I breathed. “You were always the fire.” His hands clenched at his sides. “Loving you would be catastrophic. If I lost you… I’d burn this world down. No hesitation. No mercy. No one should have that kind of power over me.”
“But I do,” he whispered. “I’m the one who could destroy you?”
“And that’s why I can’t choose you.”
His shoulders folded. “So this is it,” he said. “This is the end of us.”
I couldn’t speak.
I just nodded.
He didn’t ask for more. Just pulled me into him like he was memorizing the shape of my body. Like he needed to hold me one last time.
Because it was the last.
“I knew,” he whispered. “I knew you had chosen him. I just needed to pretend a little longer.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice raw.
“Don’t be,” he murmured. “You were never really mine. I just… loved you like you were.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me—really look at me.
“If it’s not me…” he swallowed, “then I’m glad it’s someone who will protect you when I can’t.” His voice broke, but he didn’t stop. “And Gods… he sees you the way you deserve to be seen. I hate how much sense he makes for you."
Slowly, I reached for my necklace—the one he gave me. The one I hadn’t taken off since the moment he had given it to me.
I slipped it off with trembling fingers and placed the ring into his hand, curling his fingers around it. The one with the phoenix engraved on the underside. The one forged from my father’s ruby bracelet.
It glinted softly as I closed his hand around it.
His eyes collided with mine. “What’s this?” he asked, voice rough.
My throat tightened. “Something to remember me by.”
His brows drew together. “Em…”
“Remember it’s not because I don’t love you. But because I do. Too much.” I whispered.
His breath caught. He looked down at the ring like it might break him all over again and it did—he visibly crumbled.
“A phoenix. Ours.”
I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “This isn’t just a goodbye gift,” I whispered. “It’s a promise,” I said. “That no matter what, you’d always have the first piece of me. Even if I can’t give you the rest.”
He looked at me like I’d torn something holy out of him—and left nothing in its place. “I love you so Gods-damn much it hurts.”
“I love you,” I whispered, even though I knew it would never be enough. “I could never love anyone as much as I love you.”
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t soften.
“Except him.” He wasn’t bitter. Nor angry.
Just quiet. Brutal. Truth.
It cracked the air between us.
Then he kissed my forehead—gentle. Reverent.
Destroyed.
And then I left.
Left him standing in the glowing blue light, tears in his eyes, a ring in his hand.
Heartbroken.
Ruined.
Knowing I had just destroyed the one person I loved more than anyone in this world.
* * *
Sebastian didn’t return from the caves.
And deep down, I knew he wouldn’t.
Not after the way he looked at me when I made my choice.
Like I’d ripped something sacred straight from his chest—blood still slick on my hands, and I hadn’t even tried to stop the bleeding. Hadn’t reached for him. Hadn’t tried to cauterize the wound.
Just watched him break.
So when word came through a guard—not him—that he’d taken a sentinel shift, patrolling the edges of Ophelia while the rest of us slept—it landed like a death blow.
Because I knew.
It wasn’t duty that drove him into the darkness.
It was me.
I was responsible for the wreckage. I was the ache in his silence.
I was his undoing.
And Gods—he was mine.
Not in fire. Not in fury.
This wasn’t a storm that tore through me. It was quiet devastation. The kind that lives in your lungs, stealing air one breath at a time. The kind that seeps into your bones and whispers–this is the cost.
You did this.
You chose this.
You don’t get to miss him.
I broke the boy who would’ve walked through flames for me. Who would’ve burned to ash and bled dry if it meant I’d survive.
And worst of all?
He let me.
He let me hurt him. Let me walk away. Let me make a choice he knew would wreck him—because deep down, he believed it would save me.
He just stood there—silent, steady, shattering—and let me go.
And maybe that’s what ruined me.
Because if he’d yelled... if he’d begged... if he’d hated me—I could’ve survived that. But he just... stepped back.
Quiet.
Brave.
Ruined.
And he still loved me.
Quietly. Completely. Even as I destroyed him.
So I did what I always do when the world tilted too far—I compartmentalized. I folded the broken parts of me into corners too dark to name, buried them beneath bone and breath, and told myself I’d survive.
Not thrive.
Not move on.
Just survive.
Because if I let the grief in—if I let myself feel it, all the way down—it would consume me.
And if I burned... I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to burn alone.
So tonight, I grieved him.
The boy I didn’t stop loving.
The boy I couldn’t choose.
And tomorrow, I’d get up.
Not because I was okay.
But because I had to be.
Because if I stayed here—curled in the wreckage of what I’d done—eventually, the world would burn with me.