Until She Left Novels & Stories

she said, I nodded my head at her, and she stood up, “I’ll take a leave now, Good night,” she said, I stood up and walked her out of the mansion. As I walked back to the study room I saw it empty, where did he go? I thought as I looked around.

I replied stubbornly. “No, it's not, you just don't know yet,” with that she stood up and left, leaving me to digest what she said. Just as she took a bend and left my vision. All she said and the gestures she made began to align. Could that be what she meant?

She gave me a confused look before saying "Why?" "I don't like it here" "I'm not leaving here till we check these out" "Then I will" Those were the last words I said before turning to leave.

Good. She needed to hear it. I turned away. “I’m leaving. Find your own ride.” Lyra didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling sharply, the façade cracking for the first time since I’d met her. I walked toward the exit, not looking back, not giving her the satisfaction. Her voice finally broke behind me. “This isn’t over, Lilith.” I didn’t turn around. “It already is,” I said. And then I left her standing in the dust, quiet, furious, and for the first time… uncertain.

The rich, sweet scent now smelled like a resounding slap in the face. He suddenly remembered. Before she left, that lifeless, almost hate-free, faint smile. It was not submission. And it was not a tantrum. It was a final farewell. A terrible thought, as precise as a bullet, shot through his brain. She had left. She had really left.

I wanted her to leave with nothing, not a single cent. Hence, I stayed outside, listening in silence throughout the night. I did not leave until dawn, just before they came out.

Let her set the pace. “When I was younger, he was… quieter about it,” she continues. “Mean, but controlled. Then it got worse. Louder. More unpredictable.” Her fingers tighten together. “I left,” she says. “I didn’t even plan it. I just packed a bag and didn’t come back.” I grip the wheel harder. “And your mom?” I ask. “She stayed,” Nina says. Then corrects herself. “Until she didn’t.” The road hums beneath the tires.

Not a question. “Yes.” I watched her carefully, waiting. She didn’t try to deny it, didn’t soften it, she didn't even pretend. That would have been easier. “I didn’t leave you because I didn’t care,” she said. I almost laughed, not because it was funny. Because it was predictable. “I left because I was already inside something I couldn’t escape.” Her voice didn’t change, didn’t crack. “When I understood what The Architect really was, it was too late.”

Because deep down She knew. This wasn’t over. Not even close. And when it ended It wouldn’t leave any of them unchange.

“Thank you.” Then she turned and left the room, leaving me standing in the silence, feeling something I hadn’t felt in years. Lost.