11. Run away.

Melissa.

I lowered my head until my forehead nearly brushed the cold stone floor, unable to bear the weight of their gazes, or rather, the lack of them. My shoulders slumped as disappointment crept over my face like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.

One by one, every single person in that room turned away from me.Not with hesitation, not with a second thought.

Just… turned their backs.

Boots shuffled, gowns rustled, and the door opened and closed repeatedly in a steady rhythm, a cruel countdown marking the way they abandoned me. They did not speak. They did not look back. They filed out in a neat line, as if they had rehearsed this moment, as if leaving me behind was the most natural, obvious thing in the world.

And when the last of them disappeared through the doorway, silence swallowed the room whole.

That was it.

Fate had abandoned me once more.

It shouldn’t have surprised me—not after everything—but the sting cut deeper than any blade could. If they loved my sister so fiercely, if she was the one who had captured their admiration, their loyalty… if she was engaged to all of them and adored by the rest, then why, why…didn’t they just do the one merciful thing?

Reject me.

Cast me out.

Release me from this tormenting, suffocating bond.

I would have taken that pain gladly. A clean wound. A final cut. Something I could survive and eventually heal from.

But no—they clung to me just enough to keep me tethered, to keep me drowning without the mercy of death.

“I’m giving you a chance,” I whispered in my heart, though no one remained to hear it. “I’m done trying. I’m done caring.”

I wasn’t interested in loving them anymore, not in trying, not in hoping, not in imagining a day when this ache in my chest would fade. Something inside me cracked, a thin fracture that spread faster the longer I stood there alone. Before I could stop it, tears burst forth.

Hot. Violent. Relentless.

They streamed down my cheeks freely, soaking my chin, dripping from my jaw and disappearing into the stone beneath me. There was no shame left in me, not when I suddenly regretted the entire existence that had led to this moment.

I regretted the day I was born.

Regretted the first breath I ever took.

Regretted being tied to people who would rather pretend I didn’t exist.

For a long moment, I couldn’t move. I simply knelt there, letting the silence witness my unraveling.

But eventually, my legs trembled, and I forced myself upright. Slow. Heavy. Each motion felt like dragging chains behind me. I wiped my face half-heartedly, though more tears followed immediately, blurring the world around me. I turned away from the empty room, my prison, my reminder and walked out.

The hallway was cold and dim, lit only by a few lights. My footsteps echoed sharply, the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if I could keep my lungs from collapsing. The walls felt too close. The air felt too thin.

I trudged down the corridor and up the staircase, willing myself not to fall apart before I reached the one place I could hide. My chambers waited at the far end of the hall—my sanctuary by force, not choice.

When I finally reached my door and pushed it open, the hinges creaked softly. The moment I stepped inside, Bella straightened from where she had been sitting on my bed.

Her eyes widened instantly. “Hey…why do you look so pale?”

She didn’t hesitate. She crossed the space between us in a heartbeat and reached for my face. Her fingers were gentle, trembling slightly as she wiped away the tears still clinging stubbornly to my skin.

“What happened?” she asked, voice soft but urgent, searching my expression for answers I wasn’t sure I could give.

And just like that, over something as small and human as a simple question, every emotion I thought I had locked up, sealed away, and buried deep threatened to claw its way out all over again.

My chest tightened first, then my lips trembled, and before I could steel myself or force the tears back down, they burst forth with a strength that felt almost violent.

I completely lost control.

I broke—right there in my room, right in front of Bella, with no dignity, no restraint, no careful mask to hide behind. Sobs tore from my throat, messy and raw, and I cried uncontrollably like a child desperate for comfort, desperate for someone to tell her the world was not as cruel as it felt.

The tears streamed, unstoppable, hot and relentless. My breath hitched over and over again, my lungs struggling to keep up with the misery pouring out of me. My body shook with every tremor that wracked through me, and I clutched my arms to my chest as if holding myself together would stop me from breaking apart entirely.

Bella placed a steady hand between my shoulder blades and began to pat my back gently—slow, rhythmic, patient—like someone soothing a frightened pup rather than a girl who was supposed to grow into a Luna.

“It’s fine,” she whispered over and over again, her voice calm, soothing, even as the storm inside me raged. “Let it out… it’s fine… it’s fine…”

Her reassurance only made me cry harder.

I cried until there was nothing left, until my body sagged forward from exhaustion, until my tears slowed from torrents to trickles, until all I could manage were broken breaths and soft hiccups. It was as if every emotion I had swallowed for years, every insult, every rejection, every bruise on my heart, finally demanded its due.

When the last of my sobs faded to shaky breaths, I lifted my head and stared at her. My eyes burned, swollen and aching, my face damp and blotchy, and yet I could not hold back the ache swirling inside me.

“Bella,” I whispered, voice strained and hollow, “do you think I should run?”

Her reaction was immediate.

“What?” Her eyes widened, and in one swift movement she straightened, glancing toward the door as if expecting someone to be standing there listening. She even took a step toward it, checking that it was firmly closed. Only when she was certain we were alone did she turn back to me.

“You do no such thing,” she hissed sharply, not out of anger at me, but from sheer panic. “Don’t even say that again.”

She grabbed my hands, gripping them tightly, almost painfully so her eyes were fierce and suddenly filled with fire.

“You’re hurt, you’re tired, and you’ve been treated unfairly,” she said quietly, earnestly, “but running solves nothing. It only gives them exactly what they want.”

Her voice cracked just a little, in fear, in frustration, maybe in love for me.

And though she was trying to steady me…

I could still feel the urge simmering in my bones. The desire to escape—if only to stop breaking apart.