All Chapters of Her Bloom Isn’t Red Anymore: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Chapter 30: Cold Skin, Warm Hearts, Facing What Comes Next The hum of the heater was the first thing Aria heard when she opened her eyes. Her lips still tingled from the kiss Selene had pressed on her before sleep. Then came the weight. Not just the blanket pulled up to her shoulders, or the soft cotton sheet twisted around her legs, but the warmth tucked in against her side. Well — warm was the wrong word. Selene never felt warm. Even now, curled around her like a second spine, Selene’s body was impossibly cold, and yet it didn’t make Aria shiver. Somehow, it steadied her. Aria blinked slowly at the ceiling. She could tell the electricity was still working — the glow of the lamp on the nightstand cast a soft golden light across the room. Outside the window, rain tapped a steady rhythm against the glass, but inside it was quiet. Safe. She exhaled, and it fogged just slightly in the air. Selene shifted behind her, just a small movement, but it sent a rush of awareness through Ari

Chapter 32: Some Fires Don’t Wait for Permission to Burn She kissed her to mark the moment, but it left the quiet ache under her skin untouched. Selene didn’t sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, spine straight, arms resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the shadows curling across the hotel’s peeling ceiling. The faint hum of electricity still ran through the old building, just enough to keep the lights buzzing, just enough to keep the illusion of normalcy. But outside, the world wasn’t quiet. The city kept moaning — low, guttural sounds like metal twisting underwater, like streets trying to shift themselves back into place. Rain tapped against the windows in a rhythm too steady to be natural. It wasn’t water anymore. Not really. Aria slept beside her. Tangled in the thin hotel sheets, one arm curled under her head, her lips slightly parted. She breathed like someone still halfway between dreams and remembering. Her skin glowed faintly in the flickering light, hair splayed acros

Chapter 34: The World Broke Open, and So Did I Aria drifted first, weightless, her consciousness brushing against another realm before her body even registered sleep. Colors she had never seen bled across the horizon, impossible hues that shimmered and bent like liquid light. She walked slowly at first, aware of the three figures waiting for her on a vast, obsidian plane that stretched beyond comprehension. Athena stood tall, her dark ash brown hair glowing faintly, armor etched with runes that shimmered as if alive. She exuded the calm authority of someone who had seen millennia pass and knew the rhythm of every war and peace that ever was. Beside her, Eris radiated chaos, a swirl of deep crimson energy twisting around her form like living smoke. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, with knowledge of every fracture and schism in the universe. And then there was the pink - haired goddess, a soft but unshakable presence, her hair a cascade of cotton candy waves that floated as if unde

Chapter 36: She Burned for the One Who Forgot Her The quarantine zone reeked of mold, smoke, and decay. Elara had smelled blood before — hot and fresh, or old and crusted — but this was different. This was metallic rot layered over asphalt, a scent she couldn’t scrub out of her skin no matter how many showers she took in stolen water. Not that she’d had one in three days. She adjusted her jacket and tugged the scarf higher over her mouth. Her boots scraped against cracked pavement as she walked up to the apartment. The one Aria used to live in. Her heart pounded the second she pushed the door open. Empty. Again. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before. She’d ripped through every drawer, torn through closets, flipped cushions looking for a trace — anything. A note. A shirt. A scent. But the air inside was still. Cold. Not even a whisper of her bunny left. Elara stood in the center of the living room, staring at the silent TV screen. Her mind played tricks on her — she could al

Chapter 38: She Was Barefoot, Forgiving, And Still So Soft Elara turned off the studio lights when no one was watching. She didn’t wait for the car they arranged or the security they insisted on. Her fingers fidgeting as she pulled up the hood of her jacket and slipped into the night like a shadow not meant to be seen. The city buzzed around her, busy and too loud, but all she could hear was Aria’s voice — light and teasing in her memory, bright as spring. She remembered the way Aria used to cling to her after school, the way her small arms wrapped around her like she was anchoring them both to something better. Aria would whisper things like, “Don’t be sad today, okay?” or “You’re my favorite person, Rara. Even when you’re grumpy.” That nickname never left her. Even now, in award shows or interviews, the wrong person saying “Rara” felt like a paper cut she couldn’t bandage. The memory of that one night still played like a secret movie reel only she could watch. Aria opened the d