Sarah’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of her bedside lamp casting a warm hue over the walls. I sat on the floor, my knees pulled to my chest, my tears soaking into the fabric of her jeans as I cried against her lap.
“I’m so tired, Sarah,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything is falling apart.”
Sarah’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles over my back, her calmness a stark contrast to my unraveling emotions.
“Emma,” she said softly, her voice steady and deliberate, “you need to stop blaming yourself for everything.”
I lifted my head, my tear-streaked face meeting her calm, focused gaze. “But it is my fault,” I said, my voice cracking. “If I hadn’t... if I hadn’t made all those mistakes, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Logan and I—”
“Emma,” she interrupted gently but firmly, “stop.”
Her words hung in the air, quiet but powerful. Sarah wasn’t one to speak unless she meant every word, and I knew that whatever she was about to say would be something I needed to hear.
“You’re spiraling,” she said, her hand still resting on my shoulder. “And right now, you’re playing a losing game. Not just with Logan. With yourself.”
I blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
Sarah let out a small sigh, leaning back against the bedframe as she studied me. “You’re so caught up in trying to fix everything—Logan, Vanessa, the whole mess—that you’ve lost sight of yourself. You’re letting it consume you, Emma. And if you keep going like this, you’re going to lose more than just Logan. You’re going to lose yourself.”
Her words hit me like a slap, the sting of their truth cutting through my emotional haze.
“But what else am I supposed to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just... give up. I can’t let Vanessa win.”
“This isn’t about winning or losing,” Sarah said, her tone softer now. “It’s about you. Your life, your future. You can’t keep pouring everything you have into people who aren’t giving anything back. You need to take care of yourself first.”
I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, her words sinking in slowly. She was right, of course. She always was.
But there was something in her eyes—something unsaid.