“Why were you withhim, then?” I don’t mean for ice to frost my voice, but it coats the edge of every brittle word anyway.
“He didn’t know my feelings had changed. I tried to stop him, avoid … touching him, but I-I didn’t try hard enough. I couldn’t admit tomyselfhow I felt about you then, let alone someone else. What you saw—that was my goodbye to him. He just didn’t know it. I swear by the Tides, I was going to tell you everything when you returned.”
Every sense inside me screams that she’s telling the truth. Her anguished eyes, the desperate twist of her lips. Not a single pinprick.
But she’s lied before. And I had no idea.
I loose a deep, pained sigh before shifting onto my back.
“Say something,” she begs. “Is there a path forward for us?” She grabs my hand and splays it over her heart, its frantic beat pounding against my palm.
When I don’t pull away, she rises up on her elbow and traces each white scar across my chest. There’s so much skiesdamned reverence in her touch, it nearly undoes me. I don’t trust myself to speak. Mayah rests her head against my chest, listening to my heartbeat, and the Skies must wish to punish me in the most brutal of ways because nothing has, nor ever will, feel this right again.
I love this woman. I love her with my every cursed breath, with every shuddering beat of my broken heart. And I know when I leave tomorrow, I’ll leave its jagged shards here, with her.
She’d asked me if there was a path forward for us.
Not one where I trust her again. I’ll never stop wondering.
And I’ll never stop hurting her for it.
“I gave you everything I had, Mayah.” A broken whisper wrapped in my grief. “I have nothing left.”
She swallows hard, the motion rippling against my chest. “Then … then why are you here?”
A frustrated sigh escapes me.
“I can’t seem to stay away.” My jaw clenches tight. “But I can never trust you again. When I close my eyes, I see you withhim. In his arms. On your knees, grief and rage swirling in your eyes. Forhim. When I thought you were mine.” I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “I’ll keep being cruel to you. Pulling you close, then pushing you away. Like I did in the tent.” My voice breaks under the weight of my pain. Her pain. “You deserve to be happy, Mayah. Just not with me.”
A tear drops onto my chest, then another.
She weeps against me for what feels like hours, soft, shuddering, hopeless sobs until she drifts off to sleep.
Only when she’s asleep do I let my own tears escape.
Goodbye, Mayah.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Myeyesblinkopen.I’m in my bedroom in Arbinj.
Rose petals scattered beneath rumpled sheets. Frost and winter rose fill my lungs with every inhale.
But I’m alone, my wife’s side of the bed cold.
Where is she?
Soft carpet beneath my feet. “Mayah?”
No response.
Then—I see it. The balcony door, ajar.
And there she is, my wife, gazing out at the gardens, illuminated by early morning light. Dark hair curling around her shoulders, feet bare against the balcony’s stone floor.
My wife. She hears my footsteps and turns, one hand resting on her rounded belly. Her cheeks are damp with tears, but the bright smile on her face rivals the rising sun.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
