When I got to Damien’s, I walked straight into his apartment and collapsed onto the couch.
Everything was a blur.
I wasn’t even sure I had made it here. It didn’t feel real.
Damien didn’t ask questions. He just lowered himself to the floor beside me and waited.
“I’m a mess,” I sobbed, collapsing into myself. “I’m s-such a f-fucking mess.”
“You’re not a mess, Harp,” he said gently. I could barely see him through the tears, but I noticed the way his ears flattened.The way his tail curled tightly around himself, like he was trying to anchor us both.
“I trusted him,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I trusted himsomuch. I… I loved—”
“I know,” he whispered back.
And then he was just there.
Holding space.
Holding me.
While I fell apart. Again.
I am such a burden.
Ambrose
If anyone told me that love was a promise of pain, perhaps I never would have fallen. Perhaps I would have built my walls of brick rather than glass.
I was never meant to hear the sound of a hymn—but then she opened her mouth and ruined me with her soft words.
Her warmth wasn’t mine to know. But I let it in anyway.
And now all I had was a heavy rot forming in my chest like she held a mirror up to the weight of what I was doing and asked me to look.
To really look.
She had every right to walk away.
I let her believe she was anonymous.
I let her believe I did not know it was her.
And worse—I let myself believe that was somehow kinder.
That if I said nothing, if I justloved her quietly, maybe that would be enough.
But love was never quiet.
It screamed when you tried to bury it.
I turned over in bed, staring at the empty space where she was only a few days ago. I hadn’t gone into work. I couldn’t.
I reached for my phone, even though I knew what was waiting for me. She had not shown up for work in a week. That day in the parking lot was the last time I had seen her.
The screen lit up. The messages sat there like tombstones.
Monday 11:00 am
