Page 235 of Fractured Devotion
And then let it go.
I close my eyes, hearing her laughter from old memories, soft and bright.
She’s free.
But maybe she should know that I am too.
I push off the wall and walk toward the alley with purpose.
The runner waits, young and wiry, leaning against the wall with sharp eyes.
I pass the letter to him.
“Deliver it. No questions. No names.”
He nods once, sliding it into his satchel.
Simple.
Done.
As I walk away, something unknots in my chest.
Whatever happens when she reads it, it belongs to her now.
And for the first time in too long, I let myself hope she smiles when she does.
I leave the docks behind, walking through streets that no longer feel as heavy.
The wind picks up, warm against my face, carrying the scent of salt and jasmine from the market nearby.
I don’t head back to the safehouse.
Not tonight.
Instead, I keep walking, letting the city stretch out in front of me, unmarked and unthreatening.
Thoughts of her are a constant on my mind.
Not the ache, not the longing.
Just her face in the sunlight and the softness that came after the storm.
I wonder if she’ll write back.
I don’t expect her to.
But there’s a strange peace in knowing she might smile when she reads it.
A reminder that not all endings need to be bitter.
I stop at a quiet corner and stare up at an old apartment window with the shutters half-closed.
Inside, soft music plays.
It doesn’t feel like a coincidence.
Somewhere, in the reality of this new life, I understand something I never believed I could.
