She’s still radiant—but it’s not the kind of glow that draws a crowd on a dance floor. It’s the low, steady kind that makes a house feel like home.
Like she’s been through shit, grown through it, and come out softer and stronger.
She sits in front of me now, but the absence of her, the one carved into every corner of my life, is still loud.
I broke the one thing I was desperate to keep.
This is what I did to us. She deserves so much more than all this pain.
I don’t deserve to sit here. I’m the villain in this part of her story.
I take her hand. It quivers in my trembling one. The connection is so tender, only reinforcing what I lost.
She definitely deserves so much better. She deserves the space I’ve never given her.
I graze my lips over her knuckles, get up, and walk away.
Chapter 35
Cora
His lips connect with my hand, and a shiver runs through me. I so desperately want to mend what we broke.
He might have started it with all the lies and deception, but I was the one not giving us a chance from the beginning. And this man fought for us. The us that was so wonderful. The us where I felt safe and cherished. The us where I grew out of my old habits that were killing me slowly.
He fought for us with dirty tactics, but he also didn’t know any other way.
Can I trust that he learned the lesson? Can I risk more heartache?
His lips hover just above my skin, his breath warm. My hand shakes in his, quivering with longing,trembling with fear, stirring with possibilities I’m too scared to explore.
Will he fight for us again? Do I want him to?
Before I have a chance to decide, to entertain the tender possibility, Xander gives me a sad smile and stands up.
His kiss lingers, a flame pressed to my skin, small and searing. A farewell? An apology? A sad thank you?
I bring my hand to my chest, fingers still curled, as if I could trap the heat he left behind and keep it from fading. All the efforts to forget him were in vain. The pain he caused is real, but so is the void he left.
It’s a void I won’t be able to fill properly. Ever. And I’m not sure if deciding I should try was the right one. That’s what one meeting with him did.
My resolution is gone.
My determination is nonexistent.
My reason for our breakup is forgotten. But is it also forgiven?
He walked away.
It was the smart thing to do.
The right thing.
So why do I reel from it? Why do I want to call after him? Run after him?
Because for a moment—for the length of a shared bottle of wine—he made me feel whole again.
Lighter.
