I step into my condo,Damon by my side. The door clicks shut, sealing us within four unsettling walls. It's just the two of us. Quin had to attend to some business, leaving me with a gnawing sense of unease.
The apartment feels different. Hollow and empty. So empty. I move through the living room, fingers tracing the edges of furniture as if grounding myself in reality. In the truth that clings to us like a topical disease.
Everythingfeels different now. Like we’re treading an unstable fault line. Like the earth could crack and crumble under our feet. Or maybe it already has and we’re all just free falling, hoping that the ground we land on doesn’t kill us.
I’ve felt like a parasite inside my own body for years. Since the day her heart replaced my own. But now the sensation is heightened. It’s like I’m battling for control over my own mind, my emotions. I want to be strong for Damon. He’s one breakdown away from oblivion. But maybe he needs it. Maybehe needs to reach the bottom. Once there’s nowhere left to fall, one can only ascend.
Damon walks ahead of me, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the apartment. He steps onto the balcony, and I follow him, the cool breeze ruffling my hair. He holds the rails, leaning a little too far for my comfort.
I swallow, voice meek. "I guess it's my turn to tell you to be careful."
He turns his head toward me, his smile weak. "Don't worry, Miss Jones. I'm not going to jump."
I sigh, unable to shake off the heaviness that settles in my chest. "Are you okay, Damon? I know it's all...a lot to take in."
For all of us.
Damon shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the bustling Manhattan streets below. "It happened two blocks from here. The accident. I was... I was driving home. She... She broke things off that night. She told me she couldn't do it anymore. I was so mad, Emery. So fucking upset. At myself. At her. At fucking Quinton."
His shoulders slump as his fingers curl around the railing. "I blamed him for the longest time. I was sure he had something to do with it. Why else would she leave me again, right?" He lets out an incredulous laugh. "I couldn't fathom the idea thatIwas the problem."
His dark eyes meet mine, fragile and raw. "But Iwasthe problem. She left me because I was a coward, Emery. Because I promised her something, and I was too scared to follow through."
The sharpness of his confession slices through me, and I find myself reaching for his hand, offering what little solace I can.
His gaze lingers on my gentle touch. “I shouldn’t have ruined their engagement,” he admits. “He’s a better man than me. He… He wasn’t afraid of his family. Of their opinions.” He glancesat me. “When we rekindled things… She made me swear I couldn't hide her anymore. That I’d introduce her to my parents. Properly. But I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Christ. I-I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand to hear my father talk down to the woman I loved. And he would. So would my mother.” Another scoffing laugh. “She was a fucking waitress when they met, I told you that, right? She also came from nothing but…but this world changed her, my mother. She was suddenly royalty. And she wanted me to maintain her newly found status.” His gaze flits back to the traffic down below. “I was a coward, Emery. I was a coward.” His jaw clenches, and I remain silent, listening to the foreign words of buried self-awareness slipping past his lips. “Why was she in that cab, Emery? Why was she two blocks from my fucking house? She… She had no reason to come to this part of the city. She never came here unless it was to…” He trails off.
It hits me like a goddamn semi-truck. The truth. The answer. It rattles my heart, shaking it, loosening every bolt and chain. I know the answer. I’m drowning in it. I feel it so strongly. It’s like it’s a part of me. It’s as if I’ve been carrying it for years. Every feeling. Every thought. Every regret. Every wish. Every desire that wasn’t my own. I feel it.
Her heart beats frantically inside me.
Tell him. Tell him.
Please tell him.
Tell him.
He needs to know.
Please tell him.
Set me free.
Please.
“I think…” I whisper, and my pulse quickens. “I think she was coming to see you.”
Damon’s head snaps toward me, his expression aghast. “What?”
I place a hand over my scar, tears welling up in my eyes, but I’m not the one who’s crying. She is. Her pain is inside my chest, and it’s as if I can hear her voice.
“I think she was coming to see you. To tell you she loves you. To tell you that…that nothing else mattered.” The words tumble out of me, and I can’t stop their crushing impact. “That’s why she was in a cab. That’s why?—”
“Please stop,” Damon says, teeth clenched, his eyes glossy as he stares at me, at her. “Please stop. I?—”
“She forgives you, Damon,” I breathe out, and I suddenly feel lightheaded, the pressure on my chest, my shoulders, my entire body lifting. “I think she… I think she wanted you to know that…that she forgives you.”
“What are you saying?” he cries, stumbling backward away from the railing, his face paling, hands shaking. “Why are you saying all these things?”
