“Stop those tears already. I’ll handle this, alright?”
With a soft sigh, he gently ruffled my hair and dabbed away the tears staining my cheeks. His lips brushed against my face in a comforting kiss before he stood and shuffled toward the medicine shelf, grumbling under his breath.
“You’re supposed to be tough, you know. Brave and bold. Yet here you are, crying again at the slightest bit of pain. What would you even do if I weren’t around?”
I stared in silence at the red, inflamed burn on my wrist. The ache was dull now, but its presence was a cruel reminder.
For seven long years, I’d been coddled, protected, and adored. But what would truly become of me without him?
Still, I didn’t want to keep this up. Not anymore. Not this illusion we pretended was real.
Not you, Isaac. Not this bond you insist we maintain—fragile, counterfeit, and bleeding.
Sleep eluded me that night. Whether it was the burn throbbing against my skin or the churning truth I’d only now begun to confront, I couldn’t tell. I lay drenched in sweat, turning from side to side in the tangled sheets, wishing for the relief of unconsciousness. But slumber only came after an eternity of unrest.