The car’s engine rumbles as it begins to roll forward, and my body freezes even more. My hands are clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into the palms of my hands, but the pain doesn’t seem to reach me. It’s all numbness, all the way down to my bones.
She’s gone.
And I am the one who drove her away.
I watch the car as it pulls away from the driveway; the tires crunching softly against the gravel. Each passing second feels like an eternity. I can see her in the backseat, even though she’s not looking at me anymore. She’s staring out the window. The tears I know are still fresh in her eyes, invisible to the world around her. I don’t know if she’s crying anymore or if she’s even capable of it.
I did this to her. I made her believe that I didn’t care, that I was nothing but the monster she thought I was when I first took her. I told her she meant nothing, that I was just playing with her like some twisted game. And the worst part?
She believed me. She had to.
I swallow the lump in my throat, the bitterness of my own words still lingering on my tongue.
She was never meant to stay.
I whisper the words to myself, but they offer no comfort. There’s nothing to soften the blow of knowing I’ve broken her.That I’ve shattered something pure, something real, just because I couldn’t let go of my own demons. She wasn’t meant to be mine. She wasn’t meant to be a part of my life. I never had the right to her.
The car inches down the long drive, moving farther away from me, farther away from this house, from everything that ever felt like it could be real. Every inch of distance feels like an unbearable weight pressing down on me. I take a step forward, then stop, as if even the act of moving closer to the car would make me even more of a coward.
I can see the faint silhouette of her in the back window, and for one moment, it feels like I’m back in the circus, the world spinning around me, everything going on in a blur of colors and lights while I stay anchored to the cold, dark truth of my existence. She was never supposed to change me. She was never supposed to make me feel something.
But she did. And now I’m left standing here, watching her leave, knowing that I’ll never get this back. That I can never undo what I’ve done.
The car reaches the end of the driveway, and I can feel my body tense, like I’m bracing for impact. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. The world to stop spinning? Her to come running back to me? Some miracle that would rewrite everything that just happened?
But it doesn’t. It keeps moving, keeps rolling away from me. And I feel like I’m being buried alive.
The car disappears down the road, the sound of the tires on gravel fading into the distance, and then there’s nothing.
Silence.
Just the cold, crushing silence of a house that’s lost its light, its warmth. Just the echo of my own heart breaking in a way I didn’t think was possible.
I should have let her go sooner. I should have never pulled her in.
But it’s too late now.
And I’m left with the hollow feeling of regret. The ghost of her face still burned into my memory, and the unbearable weight of knowing that I’m the one who destroyed us.
24
DOVE
The car pulls away, and I can’t breathe. My chest feels like it’s collapsing inward, as if every breath I manage to take only fuels the ache that’s devouring me whole. I press my hand to the window, staring back at the house as it gets smaller in the distance, willing myself to find one last glimpse of him standing there. But he’s not. He’s nowhere. Just cold, empty space behind me, and I’m alone, completely alone, rolling further and further away from him.
Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and relentless, and I bite down on my lip so hard it hurts, but the pain doesn’t reach the chasm in my chest. All I can think of is his face, the way he looked at me when he told me to leave as if I meant nothing, as if everything we’d shared, everything I’d believed in, had been a lie. I replay his words over and over, trying to twist them into something that makes sense, but there’s nothing. Just that awful, blank coldness in his eyes.
I curl in on myself in the back seat, wrapping my arms around my knees as I try to hold myself together. I don’t want to cry. Not here, not now, but every mile that passes leaves mefeeling emptier, rawer, as if I’ve left a piece of myself behind. I don’t understand how he could just let me go. After everything, how he could just watch me leave, dismiss me like a stray he’s grown tired of. I gave him everything, and he just… tossed me away.
As the car weaves through the quiet streets of Hollow Hills, the sight of the town feels both painfully familiar and alien. It’s beautiful, picturesque in that quaint way that makes people fall in love with it from afar. Snowflakes drift from the darkening sky, falling like tiny bits of frozen hope that vanish the moment they touch the ground. Storefronts are decorated with string lights and wreaths, their windows warm and golden, displaying cozy blankets, homemade candles, and baskets of candy canes and holiday trinkets. It looks like a scene from a Christmas card, the kind of small town where nothing bad is supposed to happen, where everyone’s supposed to be happy. It’s beautiful and warm, but right now, it’s mocking me.
The car turns a corner, and the little coffee shop where I used to spend Sunday mornings with a book and a latte comes into view. I see the familiar sign with its old-fashioned cursive letters, the frosted window showcasing a small Christmas tree decorated with handmade ornaments. The sight of it twists the knife in my heart, a reminder of the life I’d led before him. Before Ashton.
And now, I’m supposed to go back to it, pretend he was never there, pretend he didn’t unravel me piece by piece. I have to pretend that everything I felt, everything I believed, wasn’t just a cruel game.
The driver pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment building, a modest three-story with ivy crawling up the sides, tiny lights flickering in each window. I get out, clutching my bag to my chest as if it’s the only thing holding me together. I pay the driver with a quiet nod, barely hearing his “take care”before he drives off, leaving me standing on the snow-dusted sidewalk, staring up at the building.
My apartment. My life. The one I used to know so well, and now I don’t even recognize it.
