Her handprint still burned across my cheek long after she stormed out. I didn't move. Couldn't. The silence in the room pressed down on me like a weight, heavy and suffocating, the kind of silence that only came after a storm. My chest heaved, and my fingers twitched as though they could still feel her slipping away from my grip.
She hated me. I had known this moment would come eventually, but hearing it, seeing it in her eyes it broke something in me I hadn't realized was fragile.
Kairo's journal lay open on the floor, his name screaming at me from the page. My throat constricted. That name would haunt me for the rest of my life. I bent down slowly, my hands trembling as I picked it up, but I couldn't bring myself to read the words inside. I didn't need to. I already knew the truth she had discovered.
The truth I had hidden.
I pressed the journal against my forehead, shutting my eyes. I didn't mean for it to happen this way. God, I never wanted her to know like this. But what did I expect? Lies don't stay buried forever.
Her voice replayed in my head sharp, broken, unforgiving.
"You knew."
"You lied."
"Kairo was killed for you."
Each word sliced deeper than the last.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. My tears came hot and fast, streaking down my face until I couldn't breathe. I had carried this weight alone for so long, convincing myself that keeping it from her was a form of protection. That if she believed it was suicide, she'd at least have closure.
But no. I had been protecting myself. Protecting the last scrap of goodness she saw in me.
And now that scrap was gone.
My chest tightened until it hurt. Images of Kairo filled my mind the night they forced the drugs down his throat, his desperate eyes finding mine across the chaos. I had been powerless. Cowardly. I'd promised myself I would keep her safe, that I would carry the burden so she wouldn't have to.
But now she carried it anyway. And she carried the hatred for me with it.
I dragged in a shaky breath, forcing myself to stand. My knees were weak, my body unsteady, but the thought of her out there broken, alone, thinking I was nothing but a liar lit a panic in me I couldn't contain.
She was running from me, but I couldn't let her go. Not like this.
I stumbled toward the door, gripping the frame as though it could hold me up. My reflection flashed in the hallway mirror eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched, skin pale. I barely recognized myself.
What have I become?
The sound of the front door slamming reached me, and something inside me snapped. I bolted forward, ignoring the ache in my chest, ignoring the rational voice that told me to give her space. Space meant distance. Distance meant losing her forever.
And I couldn't survive that.
Not after everything.
Not when she was the only good thing left in this cursed life.
I caught the faint echo of her footsteps outside, fading fast. My pulse thundered in my ears as I threw the door open, the cool night air slamming into me like a wall. The street was dark, empty, except for the figure already halfway down it her.
"Wait!" My voice cracked, hoarse from crying, but it carried through the night.
She didn't stop.
"Please," I begged, stumbling after her, each step heavier than the last. "Don't leave me like this. I'll make it right. I'll fix everything."
She only ran faster, her hair whipping behind her like a banner of defiance, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
And still, I chased her.
Because even if she hated me, even if she never forgave me, I couldn't let her disappear into the dark with nothing but the weight of my sins pressing on her chest. I couldn't let her believe she was alone in the ashes.
Even if it destroyed me, I had to follow.