Leave to heal

India

The villa didn't feel like paradise anymore.

It felt like a stage I'd been shoved onto without a script. Everyone else moved through their roles—flirting, smiling, fighting for attention—but I was still stuck in yesterday. Still trying to breathe in the smoke after the fire Louis left behind.

I sat on the edge of the bed we used to share, the sheets still faintly smelling like him. Coconut. Sweat. That woodsy cologne he always over-sprayed. The pillow was indented where his head used to rest, and for a second I considered curling into it.

Instead, I stood. Fast. Like standing up would stop me from falling apart again.

⸻

"You alright, babe?" Gianna asked, settling beside me as I stared into the water like it could give me answers.

"I don't know," I said, voice thin. "I feel like I'm just... here. But not."

She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Sometimes silence was more honest than sympathy.

The retreat kept going. People flirted. People cried. People kissed in corners like the $131,000 still meant something. But I'd lost my focus. My person. And yeah—maybe he didn't deserve that title anymore, but he'd had it. And that meant something.

"I think I need to go," I said suddenly.

Gianna blinked. "You mean leave?"

I nodded. "I came here to heal. To grow. And I'm just... circling pain."

Gianna's eyes dropped to her lap. Her hands twisted in her hoodie sleeves, nails picking at loose threads like she could unravel time itself if she just tried hard enough.

"I get that," she said quietly.

But her voice wavered.

She glanced at me once, quickly, like she wanted to say something but knew she couldn't. Knew she shouldn't.

Because no one else knew. No one knew what caused Louis to leave, how he betrayed me.

It was her.

She had kissed Louis.

And now, with every breath I took beside her, with every broken word I said about feeling lost, the guilt dug deeper under her skin.

"You know, for what it's worth," she murmured, "sometimes it's not about who breaks us. It's about who helps us put the pieces back."

I gave a small, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well... feels like no one's got glue right now."

She swallowed hard, eyes trained on the pool.

"I'm sorry you're hurting," she said, and this time, there was something in her voice. Not just sympathy. Shame.

But I didn't catch it. Not fully. I was too wrapped up in my own ache to read between her words.

So I just nodded.

And she sat there, guilty and silent, the weight of a secret threatening to drag her under.

⸻

Everyone was talking about strategies and temptations, the next workshop, whether or not Lana would drop another green light.

I stood up.

"I'm leaving the retreat," I said simply.

Gasps. Stares. Someone dropped their glass.

Bri stood up slowly. "Wait—India—are you sure?"

I nodded, more certain than I'd felt in days. "I stayed behind thinking I could rebuild something with someone who's already left... but I forgot I had to rebuild myself first."

Lana's voice rang out not long after, eerily timed.

"India, your growth throughout my retreat has been significant. Choosing yourself is not walking away—it is stepping forward. Goodbye."

⸻

Louis – Outside the Villa, Day Three

I watched the retreat on a tiny screen. They didn't know it, but I still saw everything—like a ghost haunting the life I ruined.

India hadn't cried when I left.

That had hurt more than if she had.

I thought maybe she'd start to flirt again, reclaim her power like she always did. But instead, she just... faded.

That haunted me. That still haunted me.

She looked at everything with distance now. Her laugh came less often. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. And that killed me, because I'd done that. Again.

"I had something perfect right in front of me," I said to the camera crew trailing me for my debrief. "And I threw it away, thinking I had time to fix it."

I didn't know she was leaving.

Not until the screen cut to the cabana and she stood up—head high, voice steady.

"I'm leaving the retreat."

I froze.

Her suitcase rolled out behind her. A few hugs. No dramatic tears. Just quiet resolve.

"She's gone," I whispered, staring at the screen like it had betrayed me.

No final look. No parting words.

Because when she finally walked away from me... She didn't need to look back.