Page 29 of Say You'll Stay

“Get out, Alex. And stay away from Cara. That’s not a request.”

Alex lingers for a heartbeat, pity and sorrow eclipsing the anger in their eyes. “This isn’t love, June. This is obsession. You’re sick, and you need help.”

“I don’t need help,” I spit, the words harsh and biting. “I need Cara. And I won’t let anyone stand in my way, not even you.”

For a moment, Alex looks at me as if they don’t recognize me. As if the man standing before them is a stranger wearing the face of their friend.

“If you keep going down this path, June, you’re going to lose her. And not just her, but everyone who cares about you. Is that what you want?”

I flinch, the truth of their words hitting me like a physical blow. But I can’t back down, can’t let go of the desperate, clawing need that drives me.

“Stay away from Cara, Alex. This is your final warning.”

Alex lingers for a moment, sadness replacing the anger in their eyes. “I hope you find your way back, June. Before it’s too late.”

With that, they’re gone, the sound of the door closing behind them like a gunshot in the heavy silence.

The next few days are a blur of texts and missed calls from Cara, each one a reminder of what’s at stake, of what I stand to lose. We continue to talk, to rebuild something fragile yet precious, but the shadow of my secrets looms large, threatening to shatter this tentative peace we’ve found.

I know I need to tell her, to confess everything before the truth comes crashing down around us from other sources. But fear holds me back, fear of the look of betrayal I might see in her eyes, fear that this time, there will be no forgiveness, no second chances.

The intensity of my feelings, the chaos of my thoughts, it all builds to a breaking point. I realize that if I truly love Cara, if I truly want her in my life, I have to come clean, no matter the cost.

I’m so lost in my own spiraling thoughts that I almost miss the sound of the door opening again. For a wild, hopeful moment, I think it might be Cara.

But it’s not. It’s my mother, her presence as commanding and inescapable as always.

“Juniper, we need to talk,” she declares, her voice cutting through the haze of my misery.

I look up at her, too drained to even attempt a facade of composure. “Mother, please. Not now.”

But she’s not to be deterred. “It’s about the future of this family, Juniper. Your future. It can’t wait.”

She settles into the armchair across from me, her posture regal and unyielding. “It’s time you proposed to Amethyst. It’s what’s expected of you.”

The words hit me like a blow, driving the air from my lungs. “Mother, I can’t. I don’t love Amethyst. I love Cara.”

Her lips thin, a telltale sign of her disapproval. “Love? What does love have to do with it? This is about duty, Juniper. About securing the Deveaux legacy.”

I’m on my feet before I realize it, pacing the floor in agitation. “I can’t live a lie, Mother. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, don’t even want, just to appease some outdated sense of familial obligation.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Juniper,” she counters, steel in her voice. “You are the sole Deveaux heir. Your wants come second to the needs of this family.”

Then she asserts with chilling finality. “Besides, it’s time we ensure the continuation of our lineage. You and Amethyst will visit the doctor to discuss your… compatibility for producing heirs.”

I feel like I’m suffocating, the walls of my life closing in around me. The expectations, the demands, the constant pressure to be someone I’m not - it’s a weight I can no longer bear.

Her eyes flash with icy disdain. “That girl will never be one of us. She doesn’t belong in our world. But Amethyst… she’s a prize fit for a Deveaux heir. She’ll give you children, secure our line. It’s time we ensured the production of the next generation.”

The walls close in around me, my vision tunneling. The expectations, the demands, the unending pressure to contort myself into a shape that will never fit - it’s a yoke I can no longer bear.

“Cara is my future, Mother. My choice, my heart. Can’t you see that?”

She rises, slow and regal, an empress cloaked in couture. “Willful, selfish boy. You’ve forgotten who you are. What you owe this family.”

The laughter that spills from my lips is jagged, broken glass. “Maybe I don’t want to be a Deveaux anymore. And, maybe I don’t belong in our world either..”

The silence that follows is deafening. I can see the shock, the outrage in my mother’s face. But beneath that, I think I see a glimmer of something else. Fear, perhaps. Or the realization that I’m no longer the compliant pawn she once could control.

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