Emma's POV
Sleep didn't come.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling long after Jack's shadow disappeared down the street. The second letter sat on my nightstand like a pulse. Every time I closed my eyes, the words flashed behind them.
Some ghosts don't wait for permission.
By 3 a.m., anger had replaced fear. At first it was quiet, simmering under my ribs… then it grew, rising with every breath I took. I wasn't a girl anymore. I wasn't the woman who waited for him to choose me and I wasn't going to be dragged into old wounds like a puppet.
Not again and not this time.
By morning, I was exhausted and furious and absolutely done being haunted.
I showered, dressed, and tied my hair back with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. I wasn't afraid—no. This wasn't fear anymore. This was the part of me that had rebuilt herself brick by brick refusing to let anyone, especially Damian tear her down again.
