Saving the Rockstar

Chapter 27 Asher

The evening air was crisp and cool as Jared and I made our way into the upscale restaurant, hand in hand. We were meeting Mason and Dylan for a double date, a celebration of sorts after the whirlwind of the past few weeks.

Since my public declaration of love for Jared, life had been a beautiful, chaotic blur. Interviews, photo shoots, sold-out shows - it seemed the whole world was clamoring for a piece of our story, our love.

As the hostess led us to our table, I caught sight of Mason and Dylan, already seated and engrossed in what appeared to be a spirited discussion. As we drew closer, snippets of their conversation floated back to us, and I had to bite back a grin.

"...can't believe you hogged the covers all night," Dylan was grumbling, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. "I was freezing my ass off, thanks to you."

Mason scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, maybe if you didn't kick them off every five minutes, you wouldn't have that problem.”

"I do not kick!" Dylan protested, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

"Oh, please," Mason scoffed. "You're like a tornado in bed. I'm surprised I didn't wake up with bruises. Besides, you're the one who insisted on sleeping with the window open, Mr. ' I need fresh air to function. ' Not my fault you can't handle a little breeze."

Dylan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "A little breeze? More like a fucking Arctic gale. And don't even get me started on your snoring. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops, thinking there was a crime happening in our bedroom."

Mason's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. " Our bedroom, huh? Moving a little fast there, aren't we? And besides, you seemed to sleep just fine once you decided to use me as your own personal body pillow."

Dylan flushed, his ears turning an impressive shade of red. "Shut up," he mumbled. "You're warm, okay? And comfortable. Like a big, grumpy teddy bear."

Mason's expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "A teddy bear, huh? I guess I can live with that. As long as I'm your teddy bear."

Dylan's head snapped up, his gaze locking with Mason's. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension and something deeper, something tender.

"Always," Dylan said at last, his voice soft but sure. "You're always gonna be mine, Mase. No matter what."

I felt Jared's hand tighten in mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a silent, reassuring caress. I leaned into him, my heart so full it ached.

As we approached the table, Mason and Dylan looked up, their faces breaking into matching grins.

"Well, well, well," Mason drawled, leaning back in his seat. "If it isn't the lovebirds themselves. Decided to grace us with your presence, did you?"

Jared chuckled, pulling out my chair with a flourish. "As if we'd miss the chance to watch you two make heart eyes at each other all night. It's better than cable."

Dylan stuck out his tongue, but he was smiling, his eyes soft as they landed on Mason. "You're just jealous of our epic love story."

Mason raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "Epic, huh? That's a big word for you. Been reading the dictionary again?"

Dylan kicked him under the table, but he was laughing, the sound bright and joyful. "Asshole," he said, the word laced with fondness. "See if I share my dessert with you now."

Mason clutched his chest, feigning a mortal wound. "You wouldn't dare. Not after I let you steal all my fries at lunch."

"Let me?" Dylan scoffed, tossing his head. "Please. You practically shoved them at me, once you saw how much I was enjoying them."

Mason's expression softened, his eyes going warm and liquid. "I like seeing you enjoy things," he said quietly, reaching across the table to tangle their fingers together. "I like making you happy."

Dylan's breath hitched, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "Mase," he whispered.

I felt like I was intruding on a moment, something private and precious. I glanced at Jared, saw the same soft, wondering look on his face.

This was still so new for them, this openness, this vulnerability. For so long, they had danced around their feelings, hiding behind banter and bravado. But now, with the truth laid bare between them, it was like watching a flower bloom, petals unfurling to reveal the beauty within.

As the waiter came to take our orders, the conversation turned to lighter topics - the tour, the music, the crazy whirlwind of our lives. But through it all, I couldn't take my eyes off Jared, off the way the candlelight played across his features, softening the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw.

He was so beautiful, inside and out. Sometimes, it still didn't feel real. Like I would wake up one day and find out it had all been a dream, a cruel trick of my own desperate imagination.

But then Jared would look at me, his eyes warm and soft and so full of love. And I would know, with a certainty that went bone-deep, that this was real. That we were real.

As the evening wore on, the conversation turned to the future, to the plans we were making, the dreams we were chasing. Jared spoke of wanting to continue on as my bodyguard, of being by my side for the rest of the tour.

Mason, to everyone's surprise, announced his intention to step down as head of security, to take on a new role as tour manager. He wanted to be closer to Dylan, he said, to build a life, a future, that was all their own.

Dylan's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. For a moment, he just stared at Mason, his expression a mix of shock and awe.

Then, with a whoop of joy, he launched himself across the table, catching Mason's face between his hands and kissing him soundly, right there in the middle of the restaurant.

When they finally surfaced for air, both of them flushed and grinning like idiots, Dylan turned to me, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Ash!" he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat like an overeager puppy. "We have to start planning the next album. The songs we're going to write, the sound we're going to craft. It's going to be epic, man. Epic."

I laughed. "It will be, Dyl. But maybe we should focus on finishing this tour first, yeah?"

He waved a dismissive hand, already lost in visions of grandeur. "We can multitask, Ash. We're rock stars, after all."

Jared chuckled, shaking his head. "More like lovesick fools, the both of you. Those songs are going to be nothing but sappy love ballads about me and Mason, mark my words."

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest in mock affront. "Sappy? Excuse you, I'll have you know that my love for you is a thing of poetry, of art. It deserves to be immortalized in song."

Jared grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Is that so? Well then, by all means, immortalize away. But don't come crying to me when the critics pan your album as nauseatingly saccharine and an ode to codependency. "

I kicked him under the table, but I was laughing, my heart so light it felt like it might float right out of my chest. "Codependency? Please. More like a celebration of the greatest love story ever told."

"I thought that was ours," Dylan piped up, pouting at Mason. "The bodyguard and the rock star, remember? Star-crossed lovers, defying the odds?"

Mason rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, his hand coming up to ruffle Dylan's hair. "Of course it is, Dyl. The greatest love story of all time, no contest."

"Excuse me?" I interjected, raising an eyebrow. "I think you mean the second greatest. After Jared and me, of course."

Dylan stuck out his tongue, his nose wrinkling. "In your dreams. Mason and I are the ultimate power couple. You and Jared are just our ridiculously good-looking sidekicks."

Jared let out a bark of laughter. "Sidekicks?" he sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, it is on. Prepare to be dethroned."

And just like that, we were off, the four of us trading barbs and jokes and increasingly ridiculous declarations of our own romantic superiority.

Later, Jared walked me to my door, his hand warm and solid in mine.

"You okay, baby?" Jared murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. "You seem a little distracted."

I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day."

He nodded, his expression softening. "But a good one, yeah? A really, really good one."

I leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across his lips. "The best," I whispered.

I kissed him again, deeper this time, pouring all my love, all my gratitude, into the press of my lips against his. When we finally pulled apart, both of us flushed and breathing hard, I rested my forehead against his, my eyes fluttering closed.

We stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other, breathing each other in. And then, with one last kiss, one last squeeze of my hand, Jared was gone, disappearing into the night with a promise to return in an hour, groceries in hand for tomorrow’s dinner party we had planned.

I watched him go, and then, with a contented sigh, I turned and made my way inside, ready to fall into bed and dream of the beautiful, brilliant future that stretched out before us.

As I stepped into the foyer, the door swung shut behind me with a soft click. And then, with a jolt of horror that turned my blood to ice, I saw him.

Carter.

He was sitting on my couch, his legs crossed, his expression a mask of cruel amusement. He looked exactly as I last saw him, all sharp angles and piercing eyes, his smile a razor's edge that cut me to the bone.

"Hello, Asher," he said, his voice like silk, like poison. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I've missed you."

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was like all the air had been sucked from the room, leaving me gasping, choking on my own fear.

"How did you get in here?"

He smiled, the expression sharp and predatory. "I can't visit an old friend? Catch up on old times?"

I shook my head, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. "We're not friends. You used me, abused me. Broke me down until I didn't know which way was up."

His eyes flashed, something dark and dangerous lurking in their depths. "I made you, Asher. I took a scared, sniveling little boy and turned him into a star. Everything you are, everything you have is because of me."

I flinched, his words hitting me like a physical blow. Because there was a part of me, small and scared and so deeply buried, that believed him. That had always believed him.

But then, like a beam of light cutting through the darkness, I remembered Jared. Remembered his love, his strength, his unwavering belief in me.

Jared, who had seen me at my lowest, my weakest, and loved me anyway. Jared, who had held me through the nightmares, the panic attacks, the crippling self-doubt, and never once wavered in his devotion.

Jared, who had taught me that I was worthy of love, of respect, of happiness. That I was strong, and brave, and so much more than the broken pieces Carter had left behind.

And with that memory, with that knowledge, came a sudden, fierce surge of anger, of determination. I was done being afraid, done being controlled by the specter of my past. I refused to be anyone's victim, anyone's plaything, ever again.

I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin in defiance. "No," I said, my voice steady, strong. "You didn't make me. You tried to break me, to mold me into something I wasn't. But you failed. Because I am so much more than the scared, lonely man you preyed on. I am strong, and brave, and loved. And I will never, ever let you control me again."

Carter's eyes narrowed, his lip curling in a sneer. "Is that so? And what about your precious bodyguard, hmm? Does he know about all the dirty little secrets you've been keeping? All the ways you begged for me, pleaded for my attention, my approval?"

I flinched, my stomach turning at the cruel, taunting edge to his words. But I refused to back down, refused to let him see how much he was getting to me.

"Jared knows everything," I said, my voice like steel. "And he loves me anyway. Because that's what real love is. It's not control, or manipulation, or mind games. It's acceptance, and understanding. You left scars, Carter. Deep ones, ones that I'll probably carry for the rest of my life. But they're not open wounds anymore, not festering sores that you can poke and prod at will."

I took a step forward, my chin lifted in defiance. "I am not the broken, terrified kid you used to control. I am a survivor, a fighter. And I will not let you or anyone else ever make me feel small or worthless again."

Carter's eyes flashed with anger, his lip curling in a sneer. "Is that so? You think you're so tough now, so brave? Let's see how brave you are when I ruin everything you've built, when I tear down this little fantasy world you've created with your precious bodyguard."

He lunged for me, his hand outstretched, and I stumbled back, my heart in my throat. My fingers scrabbled for my phone, desperate to call for help, to reach Jared, but Carter was too fast. He snatched the phone from my hand, throwing it across the room with a sickening crack.

And then, before I could even react, he slapped me, hard, across the face. I reeled back, my cheek stinging, my eyes watering from the pain and shock.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he snarled, his face twisted with rage. "I offered you everything - fame, fortune, my love. And this is how you repay me? By shacking up with some meathead with a gun?"

I swallowed hard, tasting blood where my teeth had cut into my cheek. "He's not... Jared's not..."

"Jared," Carter spat, the name like poison on his tongue. "Your knight in shining armor, right? The one who's going to save you from big, bad Carter and make all your dreams come true?"

He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "Wake up, Asher. He doesn't love you. No one could ever love you, not really. You're damaged goods, a broken toy that I got bored of playing with."

I flinched, his words hitting me like physical blows.

"That's not true," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Jared loves me."

Carter scoffed. "Please. He's using you, just like everyone else. Just like your parents, who couldn't wait to kick you out when they found out their perfect little boy was gay."

I felt the tears coming then, hot and fast and unstoppable. Because that wound, that primal rejection, was still so raw, so agonizingly painful.

I remembered that day with brutal clarity - the disgust on my father's face, the cold, unflinching hatred in my mother's eyes as they told me to get out, to never come back.

I remembered the months that followed, the desperate scramble to survive, to find a place to belong. The gnawing hunger, the bone-deep exhaustion, the crippling loneliness that had eaten away at me until I was nothing but a shell, a husk of the boy I used to be.

And then Carter had found me, had taken me in, had promised me the world. And I had been so grateful, so pathetically eager for any scrap of affection, of acceptance, that I had let him mold me, shape me, break me down and rebuild me in his image.

And now, here he was again, dredging up all my deepest hurts, all my most intimate scars, and using them to cut me to the bone.

I felt myself crumpling, folding in on myself like a house of cards. I slid to the floor, my back against the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest as I tried to make myself as small as possible, as if I could disappear entirely if I just tried hard enough.

The tears were coming in earnest now, great, heaving sobs that tore at my throat and left me gasping for air. Dimly, through the haze of my panic, I heard Carter laugh, the sound cruel and triumphant.

"Pathetic," he sneered, looming over me like a shadow, like a specter of my darkest nightmares. "You'll always be that sniveling, worthless little boy, Asher. Always so desperate for someone to love you, to fix you. But you're beyond fixing, beyond saving. You're nothing, and you always will be."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. This was it. This was the end. I had tried so hard to be strong, to be brave, but in the end, Carter had been right. I was weak, damaged, unlovable. And now, I would pay the price for ever daring to believe otherwise.

But then, just as I was about to give in, to let the darkness take me, I heard it. A voice, a shout, a sound so achingly familiar that it cut through the fog of my despair like a beam of pure, blinding light.

"Asher!"

It was Jared, barging through the door with the force of a wrecking ball, his face a mask of fury and fear.

"Get away from him, you son of a bitch," he growled, his voice like thunder, like the wrath of God himself. "Or I swear to fucking Christ, I will end you."

Carter whirled around, his eyes going wide with shock and fear. "You," he snarled, his fists clenching at his sides. "What the fuck are you doing here? I saw you leave."

Jared didn't answer. He just lunged, crossing the room in three long strides and grabbing Carter by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.

"I warned you," Jared said, his voice low and deadly. "I told you what would happen if you ever came near him again. But you just couldn't stay away, could you? You just had to come back and try to break him all over again."

He leaned in, his face inches from Carter's, his eyes burning with a rage that sent shivers down my spine. "You're the reason he has to deal with anxiety, with panic attacks, with nightmares that leave him shaking and crying in the middle of the night. You're the reason he doubts himself, doubts his worth, doubts his right to be loved."

Jared's grip tightened, his knuckles going white with the force of his anger. "I should kill you," he whispered, the words a promise, a vow. "I should make you suffer, the way you made him suffer."

But then, as if sensing my distress, my terror, he glanced back at me, his expression softening with concern and love. "Asher," he murmured, his voice like a caress, like a balm to my battered soul. "Baby, are you okay?"

I shook my head, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. "Jared," I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Jared, I..."

In an instant, he was at my side, gathering me into his arms and holding me close, as if he could shield me from the world with the strength of his embrace alone.

"Shh," he soothed, rocking me gently back and forth. "It's okay, Ash. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe now, baby. I promise."

I clung to him like a lifeline, like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. And in a way, he was.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, letting Jared's strength, his love, fill me up from the inside out. And then, slowly, I pulled back, meeting his gaze with a watery smile.

"I'm okay," I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek with a shaking hand. "I'm okay, Jared. Because you saved me, in every way a person can be saved."

He shook his head, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "No, Ash. You saved yourself. You're the strongest, bravest person I know. I'm just lucky to be along for the ride."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could speak, a flash of movement caught my eye.

Carter was lunging towards me, something bright and sharp clutched in his fist. He had a knife, and he was coming straight for me, his face twisted with hatred and rage.

"If I can't have you," he snarled, his voice barely human in its fury, "then no one can. You're mine, Asher. You'll always be mine."

I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat like a wounded animal. But Jared was already moving.

He threw himself between me and Carter, his body a shield, a barrier against the deadly blade. They collided with a sickening thud, grappling and straining against each other as they fought for control of the knife.

I watched in horror as they crashed into furniture, knocking over lamps and shattering vases. The knife flashed in the dim light, slicing through the air with terrifying speed and precision.

For a moment, it seemed like Jared would prevail. He had Carter pinned, the knife inches from his throat, his face set in a mask of grim determination.

But then Carter twisted, bucking his hips and throwing Jared off balance. The knife slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. Carter dove for it, his fingers closing around the hilt with a triumphant snarl.

"No!" I screamed, my heart seizing in my chest. I couldn't lose Jared, not now, not like this.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, my hand scrabbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon. My fingers closed around the base of a heavy brass lamp, and I swung it with all my strength, bringing it down on Carter's head with a sickening crack.

He crumpled to the ground, the knife falling from his limp fingers. For a moment, I just stood there, panting, staring at his motionless form in shock and disbelief.

I had done it. I had saved Jared, had saved myself. I had faced my deepest, darkest fear and come out the other side, battered and bruised but unbroken.

And then Jared was there, gathering me into his arms once more, his body shaking with relief.

"Asher," he breathed, burying his face in my hair. "Oh god, Asher. I thought I was going to lose you."

Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled back from his embrace, needing to see his face, to reassure myself that he was really here, really okay. But as my eyes met his, as I took in the pallor of his skin and the pain in his gaze, my heart stopped.

"Jared?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "What's wrong?"

He tried to smile, tried to reassure me, but it came out as more of a grimace. "It's nothing, Ash. Just a scratch."

But even as he spoke, his hand drifted to his abdomen, pressing against the dark, spreading stain on his shirt. When he pulled his fingers away, they were slick with blood.

"No," I breathed, my eyes widening in horror. "No, no. Jared, you're hurt."

He shook his head, trying to downplay it, but I could see the truth in the tightness around his eyes, the way his breathing had gone shallow and labored.

"It's okay, Ash," he said again, but his words were slurring, his eyelids fluttering. "I'm okay. I'm..."

And then, before I could even react, his knees buckled and he collapsed, crumpling to the ground beside Carter's motionless form.

"Jared!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him, my hands hovering uselessly over his still, silent body. "Please, don't do this. Don't leave me."

But he didn't respond, didn't move. His face was pale, his lips tinged with blue, and there was so much blood.

With shaking hands, I fumbled for my phone, dialing 911 and babbling out the details to the operator. Then I texted Dylan in panic. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All I knew was that Jared was hurt, was bleeding, and it was all my fault.

If I had just been stronger, braver... if I had just stood up to Carter from the beginning, instead of letting him control me, letting him break me down, none of this would have happened. Jared would be safe, would be whole and healthy.

The tears came then, hot and fast and blinding. I clutched Jared's hand in mine, pressing desperate kisses to his palm, his wrist, any part of him I could reach.

"Please," I sobbed, my voice raw and broken. "Please, Jared. Don't go. Don't leave me. I love you so much. I can't do this without you."

Time had lost all meaning, all sense of reality narrowing down to the faint, thready pulse beneath my fingers and the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

And then, like a miracle, like a prayer answered, I heard the wail of sirens, the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. The door burst open and suddenly the room was filled with people - paramedics, police, a blur of uniforms and equipment and barked orders.

They pulled me away from Jared, gentle but firm, and I fought them, screaming his name, begging them not to take him from me. But then there were arms around me, familiar and strong, and a voice in my ear, low and soothing.

"Asher, it's okay. It's us. We're here, we've got you."

I turned, burying my face in Dylan's chest as the sobs tore through me, shaking me like a leaf in a storm. He held me tight, rocking me back and forth, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.

"He's going to be okay, Ash," he said, his own voice thick with tears. "Jared's strong, he's a fighter. He's not going to leave you, not like this."

I watched, numb and detached, as the paramedics loaded Jared onto a stretcher, as they rushed him out of the home and up to the waiting ambulance. Dylan and Mason went with him, promising to stay by his side, to keep me updated.

And then it was just me, alone in the wreckage of my home, with the police and the questions and the cold, creeping realization of what had happened.

I answered their questions mechanically, my voice flat and lifeless as I recounted the events of the night. The officers were kind, sympathetic. They assured me that I had done nothing wrong, that I had acted in self-defense, that Carter would be going away for a long time.

But their words were hollow, meaningless. Because none of it mattered, none of it meant anything, if Jared didn't survive.

And then, just as the officers were finishing up, just as they were preparing to take Carter away, he woke up.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused at first, but then sharpening with a cold, vicious clarity as they landed on me. He struggled against the handcuffs, against the grip of the officers holding him down, his face twisted with hatred and rage.

"You," he snarled, spitting the word like venom. "You think you've won, Asher? You think you're free of me? You'll never be free, you hear me? I own you, I control you. I'm the only one who will ever love you, the only one who will ever understand you."

I straightened my spine, squared my shoulders, and met his gaze head-on, my eyes blazing with a fierce, unshakeable resolve.

"No, Carter," I said, my voice steady and strong. "You don't own me. You never did. You were never in love with me, you were obsessed with controlling me. Your abuse, your cruelty... it was never about love. It was about power, about your own insecurities and your own twisted need to destroy."

I took a step forward, my chin lifted in defiance. "But you lost, Carter. Because Jared's love for me, my love for him... it's stronger than your hatred, your bitterness. And with time, and therapy, and the support of the people who truly care about me, I'll heal. I'll become the person I was always meant to be, the person I was before you came into my life and tried to break me."

Carter's face contorted with fury, with disbelief. "You're nothing without me," he hissed, straining against his bonds. "You're weak, pathetic. You'll never be whole, never be happy. I'll make sure of it."

But I just shook my head, a sad, pitying smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "That's where you're wrong. Because despite all the pain you caused me, all the scars you left, I have something you'll never have. I have true love. The kind of love that heals, that strengthens, that endures."

I swallowed hard, my eyes stinging with tears. "I pity you, Carter. Because you'll never know what it's like to be truly loved, truly cherished. You'll never experience the joy, the warmth, the unshakable sense of belonging that I have with Jared. And for that, more than anything, I feel sorry for you."

Carter's face went white with rage, his eyes bulging in their sockets. "You're dead, Asher," he screamed, his voice high and wild. "You hear me? You're fucking dead! I'll get out of this, and I'll come for you, and I'll make you pay. I'll make you suffer like you've never suffered before."

But his threats, his vitriol, they held no power over me anymore. I watched, calm and unafraid, as the officers dragged him away, as his screams echoed down the hall and faded into silence.

And then, as the door closed behind them, as the quiet settled over the room like a blanket, I felt it. A lightness, a sense of peace, of rightness, that I hadn't felt in longer than I could remember.

I had done it. I had faced my abuser, my tormentor, and I had triumphed. I had looked him in the eye and told him, once and for all, that he had no hold over me, no control over my life or my heart.

The tears came then, but they were tears of relief, of joy, of soul-deep gratitude. I had won. I had survived. And now, with Carter gone and Jared by my side, I was finally free.

I thought back to the person I had been, the scared, lonely man who had been so desperate for love, for acceptance, that he had let himself be consumed by a monster. If I could go back, if I could speak to that lost, broken version of myself, I would tell him that he was stronger than he knew. That he had a light inside him, a goodness and a purity of heart that could never be extinguished, no matter how hard the world tried.

I would tell him that the love of his life was out there, waiting for him. That one day, a man named Jared would come into his world and change everything, would show him what it meant to be truly seen, truly cherished.

And I would tell him that despite the pain, despite the heartache and the trauma and the long, hard road to healing, it was all worth it. Because on the other side of that darkness, that suffering, there was joy. There was love. There was a life so beautiful, so filled with warmth and laughter and unshakable bonds of friendship and family, it defied description.

I would tell him to hold on. To be brave. To never, ever stop fighting for the happiness, the wholeness, that he deserved.

And then, with a deep, shuddering breath and a heart so full it ached, I picked myself up off the floor, squared my shoulders, and walked out of my home.