Page 251 of Emylia

You chose this.

You don’t get to miss him.

I broke the boy who would’ve walked through flames for me. Who would’ve burned to ash and bled dry if it meant I’d survive.

And worst of all?

He let me.

He let me hurt him. Let me walk away. Let me make a choice he knew would wreck him—because deep down, he believed it would save me.

He just stood there—silent, steady, shattering—and let me go.

And maybe that’s what ruined me.

Because if he’d yelled... if he’d begged... if he’d hated me—I could’ve survived that. But he just... stepped back.

Quiet.

Brave.

Ruined.

And he still loved me.

Quietly. Completely. Even as I destroyed him.

So I did what I always do when the world tilted too far—I compartmentalized. I folded the broken parts of me into corners too dark to name, buried them beneath bone and breath, and told myself I’d survive.

Not thrive.

Not move on.

Just survive.

Because if I let the grief in—if I let myself feel it, all the way down—it would consume me.

And if I burned... I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to burn alone.

So tonight, I grieved him.

The boy I didn’t stop loving.

The boy I couldn’t choose.

And tomorrow, I’d get up.

Not because I was okay.

But because I had to be.

Because if I stayed here—curled in the wreckage of what I’d done—eventually, the world would burn with me.

ChapterFifty-Four

Rays of sunlight streamed through the window, brushing golden warmth across my face. My eyes snapped open, heart already racing. Today wasn’t just any day. Today mattered.

Gone was the girl who had to sneak pants beneath her dress. Gone was the version of me molded by expectation, forced to soften her edges just to survive.

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