“Hey,” I whispered, voice cracking. I reached down and ran my hand through its fur, gently. “You shouldn’t have to see this.”
It purred, small and steady, the only sound in the penthouse that didn’t feel hollow.
I swallowed hard and leaned my head back against the door, the cool wood biting into my skull.
“I had to,” I told myself.
Over and over again.
“I had to.”
Because the more time I spend around her, the harder it gets to pretend I can handle this. Pretend I won’t ruin her again. Pretend I can be good enough.
If I pushed her away now, she could still walk. Still heal. Still find someone who won’t drag her into my kind of mess.
But the image wouldn’t leave me… her standing there, eyes wide, clutching that little white box to her chest like it was her heart she was protecting.
I broke her again.
And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
My chest ached so badly it was hard to breathe. I bent forward, elbows on my knees, hand still shaking through my hair.
Honey purred louder, curling closer against my foot.
“Yeah,” I rasped, staring at the floor. “Me too, little one. Me too.”
I scooped Honey up, the tiny body warm against my cold hands. She meowed softly, that small, questioning sound that felt too much like her. Like Aurora.
“C’mere,” I whispered, my voice rough.
I walked toward the couch, each step heavier than the last. The penthouse felt too big again, too empty, too quiet. It hadn’t felt like this in weeks. Not since she started coming by, curling into the corner of the couch with her laptop, her voice soft and hesitant when she tried to talk to me.
Now the silence swallowed everything.
I lay down, pulling Honey close to my chest. She squirmed for a second, then settled, her soft purr vibrating against me. My hand moved automatically, stroking the fur between her ears.
She was so small.
So fragile.
So her.
I shut my eyes and felt my chest burn. Because I knew, I knew this little creature wasn’t just mine. She wasours. Aurora loved her first. She fed her first. She named her. And somehow, I stole her too.
“Guess you’re all I’ve got left of her, huh?” I muttered.
Honey’s purr deepened, and I smiled, but it was broken, a quiet, aching thing that didn’t reach my eyes. I wanted to tell myself that I did the right thing. That pushing her away was the smart choice. That keeping her close would’ve ruined her more than I already have. But that’s a lie I’ve been feeding myself for too long.
The truth is… I listened.
To everyone.
To Aly, to Jennie, to Layla, to Alex’s quiet warnings.
To every whisper that said I wasn’t enough. That I’d ruin her the way my father ruined my mother. That I’d repeat every mistake written in my blood.
And I believed them.
