Chapter 2

ZARIELLE’S POV

The silence in the apartment didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt light. Like every word I’d said to Elara had lifted a weight I’d been carrying for years. But as days turned into weeks, that quiet freedom started mixing with something sharper — the sting of seeing them everywhere.

Everywhere I went, their names came up. Did you hear about Kael and Elara? They look so happy. They’re perfect together.

Perfect.

I’d hear it while buying coffee, while walking to work, even from people I barely knew. And every time, I’d smile and nod like it didn’t feel like someone was pressing a hand against my chest, squeezing until it hurt.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when I saw him again.

I was coming out of the small bookstore I’d started visiting on my lunch breaks, a book tucked under my arm, when I heard his voice.

“Zarielle.”

I froze. I knew that voice — low, familiar, the one I’d woken up to every morning for three years. I didn’t want to turn around. For a second, I considered walking away, pretending I hadn’t heard. But my feet stayed still. Slowly, I turned.

Kael was standing a few steps away, hands in his pockets, looking at me like he had every right to be there. He looked the same — same dark hair, same sharp jaw — but everything about him felt different. Distant. Like a memory I was no longer part of.

“You look well,” he said, stepping closer.

I gripped the book tighter. “What are you doing here, Kael?”

“Can’t I check on you?” His voice was soft — the same tone he used to use when he wanted something. “It’s been weeks. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I let out a short, quiet laugh. “You didn’t care if I was okay when you were choosing her over me. Don’t start pretending now.”

He flinched, just slightly. “I’m not pretending. I’ve been thinking about you. About everything.”

“Thinking?” I shook my head. “You had three years to think. You had every chance to tell me the truth. But you didn’t. You kept me in the dark while you built a life with her.”

“I was confused,” he said, and there was no remorse in it — only excuse. “I didn’t know what I wanted. I cared about you, Zarielle — I still do. But it was never the same as what I feel for her.”

Those words. They should have broken me. Instead, they just made everything clear.

“I wasn’t a placeholder, Kael,” I said, steady and calm. “I was a person. I loved you. I gave you everything — and you treated me like I was something to keep until the better option came along.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he argued.

“Wasn’t it?” I met his gaze straight on. “You stayed with me because it was easy. Because I loved you so much I’d forgive anything. Because you knew I’d never leave. And then Elara became available — and suddenly, I was the one who didn’t measure up.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing left to say. I could see it in his eyes — he knew I was right.

“Go back to her,” I told him. “That’s where you want to be. That’s where you chose to be. Don’t come here and act like you miss me. You don’t miss me — you miss having someone who loved you without asking for anything in return.”

For a moment, something flickered in his face — regret, maybe. But it was too late.

“You deserve to be happy too, Zarielle,” he said quietly.

I took a step back, putting distance between us. “I will be. But not with someone who has to choose me first. Not with someone who sees me as second best. I deserve to be someone’s first choice — or nothing at all.”

I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back. I could feel him standing there, watching me go — but I kept moving, toward the corner, toward the rest of my life, toward the version of myself that wasn’t defined by who loved me.

That night, I sat by the window and watched the city lights flicker on. It still hurt. Some days, the ache would wake me up sharp and sudden, like a fresh wound. But the hurt wasn’t tied to him anymore. It was just… grief. For the girl I used to be — the one who believed in forever, who thought love was enough to keep someone true.

And grief, I realized, doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you cared deeply. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

To be continued