Guilt rages up like a tidal wave, familiar and suffocating. I see every sacrifice he’s made for me, every night he pulled me out of my own darkness, every promise I whispered that I’d never leave. My heart claws at me to stay, to fix this, to prove him wrong by proving myself wrong.
His eyes harden, glassy with venom. “You’ll break him too, you know. You’ll turn him into someone he hates. And then he’ll hateyoufor it. Because that’s what you do. That’s who you are.” A vein throbs in his temple as he twists the dagger deep. “Just give it time.”
The words detonate inside me.
They linger.
Ring, hum, tumble around inside my head.
No.
No.
That’s not true.
For so long I’ve let him define me. What I am, what I’m worth, what damage I’m capable of. And I realize now…that was the point.
That’s the cage.
He needs me to believe I ruin everything so he doesn’t have to face who he’s become.
But that’s not me. That’s not who I am.
As I stare at him, at the man I thought knew me inside and out, I realize he doesn’t know me at all. And finally, a different man’s voice rings louder.
“You’d be shocked to know how incredibly enough you are, just the way you are.”
The pain doesn’t vanish. It never will.
But it shifts. Just like that.
My hand quivers as I tug the ring off my finger. The diamond glitters under the light, a promise I thought would bind us back together, when really itchained me tighter. I step forward and press it into his palm, folding his fingers around it.
His mouth parts, a flash of panic in his eyes, but I shake my head. Tears streak hot down my cheeks. “No, Alex,” I whisper, steadier now. “I didn’t break you.”
He winces, eyes flickering with regret.
“You broke yourself.”
I stagger back, curl my fingers around the doorknob, and turn it. The sound is small, but it echoes like a crack of thunder.
The door clicks shut behind me.
And for the first time in years, the silence belongs to me.
Chapter 38Annalise
“Van is ready!”
My brother’s voice cuts through the fog as I’m curled up in his spare bedroom, the space littered with boxes and clothes strewn over mismatched furniture. Puffing my cheeks with a breath, I toss my notebook aside, the pages scribbled in crossed-out lyrics and smudged ink.
It’s been three weeks since that video went viral, and our spur-of-the-moment tour is far from meticulously planned. It’s messy, gritty, and ambitious. In two days, we hit the road, geared up to play small venues and college towns along the East Coast. A mix of bars, pop-ups, a beachside acoustic, and an opening slot for a mid-level indie band.
Our socials exploded. Chase went from barely a hundred followers to 500K, and I recently hit the six digits. Comments are begging for tour dates and Spotify links. Our inboxes are filled with praise, requests, and promises. Some legit, some sketchy. Kenna takes over my socials and creates an official band account across all platforms, while Crowley makes connections with industry bigwigs, putting us on the path to success.
We weren’t ready. We’re still not ready. But that doesn’t stop us.
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