Ashes Don't Bleed

ELARA

Golden hour cloaked the Amalfi cliffs in amber and honey. The wind was soft, sweet, and almost cruel in how gently it touched me as if mocking the ache I carried. I stood on the marble terrace of the villa, the sea stretching endlessly ahead, pretending I belonged in this postcard-perfect moment.

I didn't.

Milo’s laughter rang behind me like church bells. I turned, caught sight of my son—three years old, barefoot, chasing his own shadow across the tiles. His curls bounced as he ran, joy painting his cheeks. That boy was my everything. My reason. My breath.

I smiled. Or tried to.

"Wine?" Ethan's voice slid beside me, warm and smooth like polished lies. I looked up to see him holding out a glass. His smile was practiced, charming, so damn sweet it made my stomach twist.

"Thank you," I said, taking the glass.

Sienna laughed behind him. I glanced over.

She was sprawled on the lounger beside the infinity pool, her legs crossed, sunglasses perched high, a sheer wrap clinging to her like a second skin. Her laugh was loud. Too loud. Like she needed the world to hear it.

I didn’t know why she was here. Ethan said she was an old friend passing through. I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to fight. Not again. Not on this trip. This was supposed to be our reset. Our chance to glue the cracks back together. He promised me Amalfi would fix things. I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.

So I ignored how he poured Sienna’s wine first. Ignored the way his hand brushed her thigh like muscle memory. Ignored the way she didn’t flinch.

But my heart—my traitorous, stubborn heart—clenched so hard it made breathing difficult.

"Ethan," I said, soft. Almost shy. "Can we talk?"

He blinked, then offered me that charming, hollow grin again. "Of course, sweetheart."

I leaned down and kissed Milo on the head. “Go inside with Amelia, baby. Mommy will be right back.”

He nodded, lip stained with cherry juice. The nanny, ever efficient, scooped him up and walked inside.

“Sienna,” I said.

She lifted her sunglasses with a lazy brow raise.

“Can you give us a minute?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Her walk away was slow. Intentional. Predatory.

The trail behind the villa twisted along the cliff, a narrow path edged with old stone and soft moss. The sea crashed below, blue and endless. I used to find the sound calming.

Now it felt ominous.

Ethan walked beside me, silent.

“Are you sleeping with her?”

He stopped walking.

The wind picked up, tangling my hair. I turned to him.

He stared. Not shocked. Not guilty. Just... still.

Then he said it. "She makes me feel alive."

My throat went dry. “I gave you everything, Ethan. I carried your child. I stayed through every cold night, every angry silence, every bruise that wasn’t on my skin but bled anyway—”

“And that was your choice.”

His words sliced through me.

“You said you loved me.”

He tilted his head. His tone softened, almost pitying. “I did. Until you stopped being interesting.”

I staggered back a step, dizzy.

“What...?”

He sighed like I was the exhausting one. Then his eyes sharpened.

“You really think I brought you here for a fresh start, don’t you? Oh, my innocent Elara.”

He stepped closer, and before I could move, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. A gesture he used to do when he loved me.

“Do you know why I kept up with you for so long?” he whispered.

I shook my head, too numb to speak.

“Your parents left you a trust, Elara. Millions.”

My stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know, did you?” He chuckled, crazed and giddy. “God, I almost feel bad.”

“I’m an orphan,” I whispered. “My parents died when I was four. I was raised in the system.”

He gave me a look like I was the stupidest woman alive. “Yes, you are. But you don’t know who your real parents were.” He clicked his tongue. “I guess you’ll never know now... or if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to see them again. With their grandchild.”

I froze.

“What are you tal—”

Then I saw her.

Sienna.

Holding Milo.

Walking toward us with that same damn lazy smirk.

No. No. No.

I lunged forward but Ethan’s hand caught my arm. Hard.

“I’m sorry, Lara,” he said.

Or not.

He shoved me.

The world flipped.

Wind tore past my ears. I screamed Milo’s name. Over and over.

Then I heard it—his scream.

High. Terrified. Pure.

Followed by silence.

I hit the water.

The sea is colder than I imagined.

It swallows me like a secret. No mercy. No pause.

I try to scream, but the water surges into my mouth, into my lungs, dragging me deeper. It’s like drowning in betrayal: thick, dark and final.

I reach out, not for help. For Milo. For my baby.

But the water gives me nothing.

Just silence.

Just shadows.

Just—

A shape above.

Dark.

Coming toward me.

Or I was heading towards it.

Then......everything fades.