All Chapters of Broken Bonds: Beyond Destiny: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

Sophia The afternoon fell slowly, bathing the house in a soft orange that used to soothe me but now felt heavy on my skin. I had spent the whole day pretending to be normal, a state I no longer felt. Cooking, tidying, folding clothes, any excuse was good enough to avoid sitting still, because in the stillness the thoughts returned: the knife, Dante’s symbol, the secret call, the unanswered questions. Bright had been in the garage workshop fixing a hinge and, although I could occasionally hear the metallic scrape of tools, his presence felt different, like he too was moving through a fog neither of us could name. When he finally appeared in the dining room doorway, sleeves rolled up and a faint smudge of grease on his cheek, I noticed he was watching me more than usual. It wasn’t just a casual glance; his eyes seemed to weigh me, measuring every gesture. “You’re very quiet today,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. My heart jumped. I forced a smile, the light one I use when

SophiaBright had already fallen into a deep sleep when I went downstairs with James to talk about something important: Bright. Some people were still moving around the house, after all, not everyone had gone to bed. It was still early to sleep, but Bright had felt tired. So it was the perfect time to speak with James about everything. During the day, it was nearly impossible because Bright was always nearby.I glanced at the wall clock; it was almost eleven at night. We reached the sofa, where James sat across from me, elbows on his knees. His eyes fixed on the floor. A side lamp gave off a warm glow, enough for my brother to see the anxiety etched on my face.“I can’t handle this, James,” I finally said, the words leaving me as a sigh that turned into a confession. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at him because I know a truth he’s trying to hide from me.”He lifted his gaze, his furrowed brow reflecting concern.“Sophia, I know you’re worried about telling Bright abo

Bright It was already daylight, and I was still driving aimlessly, the sky a dull gray and a bone-deep exhaustion weighing on me. All night I’d wandered roads I barely recognized, my mind stuck on a single certainty that flooded and tore at my heart: I couldn’t go on like this. Every mile I left behind only deepened the feeling that something inside me was breaking under the weight of this mistrust. I kept thinking I had to do something, that things wouldn’t get better with just talk, this went beyond that. It was about where my wife placed her faith. It hurt because she believed everyone’s truth except mine. How could we go on like that? For what? So they could keep seeing me as a stranger in my own house? So she could sleep beside me while thinking I was crazy or obsessed? What kind of relationship were we in if we couldn’t listen and trust each other? I couldn’t find that in her. Sophia’s mistrust was a thorn I couldn’t pull out, no matter how I tried. The wound was there —deep

SophiaThe silence in my room was so dense it felt like a damp blanket clinging to my skin. The door still vibrated with the echo of the slam Bright had given it minutes earlier, a brief sound, but strong enough to keep bouncing in my head like thunder. I let myself fall onto the bed, and the mattress sank under my weight, as if it wanted to swallow me whole. The air smelled of him: of forest, of the wood from the workshop where he kept his tools, of that mix of pine and rain that always made me feel safe. Now that very scent hurt, as if reminding me he was no longer here.Tears slid down easily, hot, heavy, salty. I tried to wipe them with the sleeve of my sweater, but new ones formed right away. I couldn’t stop them; I didn’t even want to. A knot in my throat choked me, and each sob was a small relief that barely let me breathe. I thought of the suitcase he had packed with trembling hands, each shirt folded with restrained anger. Every garment he put inside was a sentence: another d

Sophia I woke with swollen eyes and a burning throat, as if I had spent the night swallowing fire. It wasn’t much different, after all: I had spent hours crying until I had no strength left, until sleep overtook me in the middle of anguish. The morning light filtered softly through the window, but it brought no comfort, only a reminder that Bright wasn’t here. The bed felt far too big without him. The side where he should have been remained untouched, cold. I reached out my hand and confirmed it; nothing but empty sheets. That emptiness pierced my chest like a dagger. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince myself that it was only temporary, that Bright just needed “space to think.” The truth was that every time he walked away, I feared it would be the last. I sat at the edge of the bed, my heart heavy and my head full of unanswered questions. I wanted to call him, to write him something, anything that could break the silence that was slowly killing me. But my fingers