Jade
“Don’t look back,” I whispered to myself.
But I did.
Just for a second.
The morning air was thick, clinging to my skin like regret. The sun had barely risen, casting a pale, unforgiving light across the courtyard as I dragged my suitcase behind me. The wheels rattled over the cracks in the pavement, too loud in the silence that pressed around me.
My chest ached. My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle. Each step felt like it carved something raw out of me.
Keep walking, Jade. Just walk. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care. It wasn’t about where. It was about away.
Away from the bond that still pulsed faintly between us—weak but alive. Away from the echo of a voice that once promised, “I’ll never let you go.”
I whispered, “You already did.”
I had packed in ten minutes. Maybe less. Clothes thrown into the suitcase with shaking hands. I didn’t check what I grabbed. I didn’t care.
Because it wasn’t about things. It was about breathing air that didn’t smell like betrayal. It was about getting out before I shattered completely.
Campus stirred around me. Students rushed to class, coffee cups in hand, earbuds in, eyes glazed with routine.
No one looked twice. No one saw me. To them, I was just another girl leaving. Another story they wouldn’t remember by sunset.
But my story was still unraveling inside me—loud, painful, unforgettable.
Don’t think about him.
I tried. I did.
But my mind betrayed me.
His arms around me in the dark. His breath on my skin. That night he said, “I’ve got you.”
Liar.
The mark on my neck burned, throbbing like it knew I was walking away from the one it had been made for.
I reached the edge of the parking lot and stopped.
My legs locked. My lungs stilled.
And then… I felt it.
Him.
Before I saw him, I felt him.
The bond tugged at my chest, a weak pull, like a fading heartbeat echoing between us.
I lifted my head slowly.
And there he was.
Zade stood across the lot, motionless. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, his posture like stone—still, silent, distant.
He didn’t call my name. He didn’t move. He just watched me.
Dark eyes unreadable. Face unreadable. Everything unreadable.
But I knew what wasn’t there. No apology. My heart twisted, wild with one last hope. Just one. One desperate, foolish hope.
Please, just run to me. Pull me back. Say you were wrong. Say I matter. Say something.
But he didn’t. He stood there. Letting me go. The hope inside me cracked, splintered, and died—slow, cruel, quiet.
I didn’t wave. I didn’t speak. I didn’t cry.
Instead, I turned my face away. Set my jaw. And gripped my suitcase tighter like it could hold the parts of me he broke.
And then I walked. One step. Two.
Every movement felt like tearing muscle from bone. Like leaving my soul behind.
The wind picked up, cold and sharp against my skin, tugging at my hair, my jacket—like even nature wanted me to turn around.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because I wasn’t going to beg for love again. Not from someone who let it fall through his hands.
My throat burned. My chest ached. But I kept walking.
The town blurred past me—buildings, streets, trees. All gray. All cold.
I moved through it like a ghost. Like someone who used to exist.
And then, finally, I reached the edge of town.
The open road stretched out before me. Empty. Uncertain. But mine.
I stopped. Just for a moment.
Wrapped my arms around myself, chasing warmth that wouldn’t come.
The bond pulsed once—soft, dying.
Then silence. I turned. Just once.
Zade was still standing there. Exactly where I left him. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t come after me.