I take another step back. When my gaze finally locks with his, the world tilts. Everything blurs at the edges, all color and sound draining from the room until there’s nothing left but the thrum of my heartbeat and the shattered look on Knox’s face.
His eyes are locked on mine, wide and desperate, and in that gaze, I see it all. The shock. The regret. The way everything is crumbling between us.
My heart clenches—one last tether straining to hold on—and then…it breaks.
The hurt is too deep to fix with apologies or explanations.
It’s not even anger that’s taking me under. It’s that bone-deep ache of being invisible to someone you bared your soul to. Of realizing you were standing in plain sight and somehow still neverseen.
My gaze shifts to Hallie, and she’s watching me with that smug smile that says she’s already won. The icy gleam in her eyes sends a chill crawling up my spine. She’s been waiting for this, and I walked straight into it, thinking I was safe.
God, what a mistake.
I turn away so fast I almost trip over my own feet. The weight of their eyes on my back is smothering, but there’s nothing left to say.
I shove at the heavy doors, and they fly open with a groan, crashing against the frame. The cold air hits like a slap, forcing its way into my lungs as I stumble out into the dark.
My breath comes in jagged bursts, each inhale more useless than the last. My chest rises, falls, then clenches tight like my heart might actually break free. I press a hand to it, as if I can hold it in. As if I can stop myself from coming apart.
I can’t.
The first sob barrels through me, loud and wrecked and desperate. And once it starts, there’s no stopping it.
The dam splits wide open, and I shatter right there on the pavement, bent at the waist, fists clenched, knees threatening to give out. My cries come out broken, ripped straight from the center of me, wave after wave of grief and betrayal crashing through every inch of my body.
It’s not just heartbreak.
It’s devastation.
“Juliette?”
The voice is slightly unfamiliar yet soothing. I turn myhead, everything a blur through the sheen of tears, and there’s Elsie.
She crouches beside me, not reaching for me, just there. Her face is etched with worry, her brows pulled tight. “Let us take you home, love.”
I nod with a slow, heavy motion. Elsie takes my hand, guiding me toward the car where Finn is already standing by the door waiting for us. She settles in beside me in the back seat.
I barely know her, but right now, she’s a lifeline.
“Juliette,” she begins, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going to defend him. He was warned. But just know, he wouldn’t be with you if he wasn’t fully committed. That witch hasn’t been in his life for a long time now.”
Part of me wants to believe her and sink into the comfort of her words. But then there’s this other persistent part that won’t let go. The truth, whatever version of it this is, feels so far out of reach.
Elsie’s looking at me, waiting for a response, but I can’t find the right words to match the tangled mess in my chest.
If Knox really cares, if thisuswas as real as he made me believe, then why did he keep this from me? Instead, he let me stumble into this blind, like I was a pawn in some game I wasn’t supposed to understand.
Did he think I wouldn’t care? Or worse, was this never as real for him as it was for me? He was so sure of us this morning, all those sweet words about how this wasso much more. Yet here I am, standing in the wreckage of a truth I never saw coming.
I know I’ll hear him out. It’s the only thing I can do, even though I’m dreading it. I want to believe that maybe he can explain himself. The idea of it turns my stomach, but still, I’ll listen. I won’t be able to bring myself to walk away withouthearing his side. Even if I’m not sure I’ll ever look at him the same way again.
The car slows as we near the cottage, the gravel crunching under the tires, each pop marking the end of the ride. When we finally stop, I murmur a quiet thanks, then swing the door open.
I step out, my feet sinking into the earth, and for a second, the wind wraps around me, lifting my hair and stirring an odd mix of freedom and weight inside me, like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and the world is both holding me up and threatening to drop me at the same time.
Then, I notice the direction of the breeze, blowing eastward, as if the universe itself is trying to guide me back to him. It’s a subtle whisper, and I can almost hear it telling me to give in to what’s been clawing at me since the moment I left.
I feel the pull, the longing. But it’s not enough to change my course.
