Chapter 49

Zaviya's POV

I sat on the cold floor of our master bedroom, clutching the corner of the bedsheet like it could anchor me to the present. My heart ached, each beat feeling heavier than the last. The room still smelled like Alastair-her perfume lingered in the air, faint yet intoxicating. The silence wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket, echoing the emptiness she left behind.

Her voice still echoed in my head-calm, tired, and heartbreakingly resolute. I closed my eyes, remembering what happened a while ago and our last conversation.

The Zavitech boardroom buzzed with the sharp hum of professionalism. Zaviya sat at the head of the table, exuding authority and precision, her piercing eyes fixated on the screen as her team presented their quarterly strategies. Her mind, however, felt restless, her heart unusually heavy, though she couldn't place why.

Then her phone began to buzz-once, twice, then a relentless stream of vibrations. Irritated at first, she discreetly glanced at it. Oliana calling. The tension in her chest tightened inexplicably.

She raised her hand, interrupting the presentation mid-sentence. "Excuse me. Continue without me for a moment." Her voice remained firm, but the unease in her tone caused a ripple of concern through the room. Without waiting for acknowledgment, she walked briskly into the hall and answered the call.

"Hey, Oli, I'm in a meeting right now. What's up?" she said, her tone clipped.

"Zavi," Oliana's voice trembled slightly, "Gaios just called. Alastair-she's back. She's at Klaud's place early in the morning, but she said she'll be heading to the mansion after."

The rest of Oliana's words faded into a muffled blur as Zaviya froze, her mind latching onto one fact: Alastair is home.

Her breath hitched. The meeting, the company, the world-it all ceased to matter. She didn't ask for more details. She didn't care about the logistics. Without hesitation, she stormed back into the boardroom. "The meeting is rescheduled. I'll inform you all later," she announced curtly before striding out, ignoring the bewildered stares of her team.

The drive home was a blur of reckless speed and frantic thoughts. Her heart thundered in her chest, her hands gripping the steering wheel with such intensity that her knuckles turned white. Images of Alastair filled her mind-her smile, her touch, the heartbreak in her eyes the last time they spoke. Zaviya's throat constricted as regret clawed its way up her chest. She had to fix this. She had to make things right. Whatever it took.

As the mansion loomed into view, her breath came faster, and she didn't bother to park neatly. The car screeched to a halt, and she practically leaped out, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement as she sprinted to the front door.

Inside, the silence of the grand home enveloped her, unnervingly loud against the chaotic rhythm of her heart. Her pulse quickened with every step toward the master bedroom. Her vision blurred, not from exhaustion but from fear, hope, and desperation intertwining into a knot she couldn't untangle.

She paused at the door, her trembling hand hovering over the knob. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, silently willing her heart to steady. What if she's angry? What if she doesn't want to see me? But she knew there was no turning back.

With a deep inhale, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Alastair sat at the edge of the bed, her broad shoulders slightly hunched, her hands loosely clasped between her knees. The afternoon light streaming through the window cast a soft glow around her, yet her presence seemed heavier than ever.

Zaviya froze, her gaze locking onto Alastair as a wave of emotions crashed over her. Relief. Guilt. Fear. Love.

Her lips quivered as though she wanted to speak, but her throat betrayed her. She took one shaky step into the room, and then another, before her knees buckled beneath her.

Zaviya dropped to the floor in front of Alastair, gripping her waist with desperate, trembling hands. Her head fell against Alastair's stomach, as though it was the only place she could find solace. And then she broke.

Sobs tore from her chest, raw and unrelenting, filling the room with the sound of her anguish. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice cracking with every word. "I'm so sorry, Alastair."

Alastair's hands hovered for a moment before resting on Zaviya's trembling shoulders, hesitant yet comforting. But Zaviya didn't lift her head. Her tears soaked Alastair's shirt as the weight of her regret poured out of her.

Finally, she pulled back just enough to meet Alastair's eyes. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen, but she didn't care. "No, it's not okay," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I know now. I know why you did it. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you carry it all alone? Why, Alastair? Why didn't you let me in?"

Her hands moved shakily to cup Alastair's cheeks, her touch feather-light yet desperate. "Why didn't you trust me to carry the burden with you?" Her voice cracked again, her words barely audible through her sobs.

Alastair stared at her, her expression unreadable, but her eyes glistened with tears. The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of everything they'd left unsaid. And then, slowly, Alastair's hands covered Zaviya's, holding them against her face.

"And I would've fought the world for you, Alastair," Zaviya's voice cracked, her tears falling faster, a deluge that couldn't be stopped. "Don't you see that? You didn't have to do this alone. You didn't have to break yourself for me."

Alastair's gaze softened, her chest heaving with a pain that mirrored Zaviya's own. Her hands moved to cover Zaviya's, their foreheads pressing together as if the closeness could somehow mend the irreparable. When she spoke, her voice trembled with the weight of her confession, each word piercing Zaviya's heart.

"Zavi, from the moment I was five years old, I've loved you. You were my light, my everything. And I swore-swore-that I would protect you, give you everything, no matter the cost. Even if it meant breaking myself. Even if it meant losing you."

The words were like a knife, cutting deeper with every syllable. Zaviya sobbed harder, her grip tightening as though she could hold Alastair together through sheer force of will. "But I never wanted you to lose yourself for me. I just wanted you."

Her breath hitched, the pain in her chest suffocating. "Give me another chance. Please, Alastair, let me make up for the years we lost-for every moment I hurt you. Let me love you the way I should have all along. Let me show you how much I still love you."

But the look in Alastair's eyes was an answer before she even spoke. "Zaviya," Alastair began, her voice trembling, barely holding back the tears that glistened in her eyes. "We can't. I can't, I can't do this anymore. I'm broken. I'm lost. And I don't know how to find myself while I'm with you. I love you more than I can put into words. But we're both so broken. Loving each other... it's cost us so much. We've lost parts of ourselves along the way. And if we stay together now, we'll only keep hurting each other."

The panic surged within Zaviya, her chest tightening as though the very air was being stolen from her lungs. Her head shook violently, denial pouring out in ragged sobs. "No, Alastair. Please, don't say that. We can fix this. I'll do whatever it takes."

Alastair's resolve faltered, her own pain seeping through the cracks, but she didn't stop. She reached for the envelope on the nightstand, her hands trembling as she handed it to Zaviya.

"What's this?" Zaviya asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Open it," Alastair said, the words catching in her throat.

Zaviya's hands shook as she opened the envelope, her heart already fracturing at the sight of the papers inside. The bold, unforgiving word "Divorce" screamed back at her, and the sob that tore from her throat was raw, guttural, a sound she didn't recognize as her own.

"This is my last act of love for you, Zavi," Alastair whispered, her voice breaking, her tears falling freely now. "I've always loved you. Even when it hurt. Even when I thought I lost you. But this... this isn't about going back. It's about starting again."

Zaviya's knees buckled, her grief threatening to consume her as she clung to Alastair. Her sobs were loud, unrelenting, each one pulling at the frayed edges of her soul. "I-I can't lose you," she choked out. "I can't let this end like this, Alastair. I need you. You're the only thing I've ever needed."

But Alastair's tears didn't stop. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Ubos na ubos na ako, Zaviya. I'm drained. But don't misunderstand-I don't blame you for this. Loving you has been the greatest feeling I've ever known. You're my brightest star, Zaviya. You're my light... but also my greatest fall."

Zaviya shook her head violently, her body shaking with sobs that tore through her chest like thunder. "I don't want freedom!" she cried, her voice raw and desperate. "I want you, Alastair. I don't care how broken we are. I don't care how long it takes-I'll wait for you. I'll wait forever if I have to. Just don't leave me."

Her voice cracked again, trembling under the weight of her desperation. "Is leaving me-walking away-going to make you okay, Alastair? Will it make you happy?"

"I don't know, Zavi." Alastair's voice wavered, her tears cascading like rain down her cheeks. "I don't know if this is the right choice, but I need to try. And I'm so, so sorry that it has to end this way. If I could take away all the pain, I would-God, I would. I'm sorry. I am leaving not because I want to, but because I know my absence will give you the life and freedom you truly deserve."

The words struck Zaviya like a hammer, shattering her resolve into fragments she couldn't piece together. She inhaled sharply, the shards of her broken heart slicing through her lungs. "It's okay, Alastair. Kahit masakit... kahit nakakadurog, uunawain ko. Pero..." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'll wait for you. Kahit gano katagal, kahit gano kahirap. Take all the time you need to heal. I'm here, Alastair. I'm not running. I'm waiting for you."

The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room like a death knell. Zaviya stumbled forward, her legs weak, her sobs relentless. She fell to her knees as Alastair walked away, each step tearing another piece of her heart. Alone on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself, she let out a scream of anguish that filled the silence, the sound of a soul breaking, raw and unrestrained.

And then there was only silence.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her and tell her we could fix this, like we always did. But even I knew those words would sound hollow now. Deep down, I knew she was right. I had been so consumed by my own pain, my own fears, that I didn't see how much I was crushing her under the weight of my stubbornness.

Her words were like knives, each one cutting deeper than the last. But for the first time, I saw the weariness in her eyes-the exhaustion from carrying the weight of a relationship that we should be fighting both.

And now here I was, alone in the home we built together, surrounded by memories that felt more like ghosts.

I traced the edge of the photo frame on the bedside table, our smiles frozen in time. We were so happy then, so full of love and hope. How did it all go so wrong?

It wasn't her fault. It was never her fault. If Alastair hurt me, I hurt her twice as much. And she took it all because she loved me. Until she couldn't anymore. My sharp words, my unwillingness to bend, my pride-these were the things that chipped away at the foundation of our love, brick by brick. I thought she'd always stay. I thought her love for me was enough to weather every storm. But even the strongest hearts have their limits.

I hated myself for being so blind, so selfish. She begged me to meet her halfway so many times, and I refused. I pushed her, over and over, thinking she'd never break. But I was wrong. I'm so damn wrong and it's too late for me now to make things right.

I clutched the pillow she used to sleep on, her scent faint but still there. My chest ached, and the tears came again, hot and relentless.

"Alastair..." I whispered into the emptiness, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't see you, didn't hear you, didn't fight for you when you needed me to. I thought I was fighting for us, but all I did was push you away. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not seeing how tired you were. I'm sorry for making you feel you have to take all the blame on what happened to us. I'm sorry I hurt you when I should've loved you better.

She was giving me the freedom I never realized I needed. And in return, she was asking for hers. Letting her go felt like tearing my heart out of my chest, but I knew she was right. I knew I had to let her leave, not because I didn't love her, but because I did. Letting her go was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But I loved her too much to keep holding on when all it did was hurt her too.

I understand Alastair now. I thought too that love meant never giving up, but now she's right that sometimes, love means setting the person free-even if it breaks you. Even if it feels like your heart will never heal.

"Be happy my love," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Even if it's not with me. Just... be happy."

And as much as it killed me, I had to honor her final wish. I had to let her go. And for the first time, I let the pillow fall from my grasp. I let her go.

***********************A few hours later, the mansion was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt suffocating instead of comforting. Zaviya sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she stared at the nightstand. The silence of the master bedroom weighed heavily on her, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting long, lonely shadows across the room. Her heart clenched at the thought of the envelope inside the drawer-the envelope that contained the end of everything she and Alastair had to build.

With a deep, shaky breath, Zaviya reached out and opened the drawer. Her fingers hesitated as they brushed against the envelope, the thick paper feeling heavier than it had any right to be. She pulled it out and placed it in her lap, her chest tightening with every passing second. She knew what it held-Alastair's signature, her resignation, the culmination of years they'd both spent with each other.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry and aching as her fingers worked to open the seal. But as she slid the divorce papers out, something else fell-a folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor like a final blow.

Zaviya froze, her eyes locked on the letter as it lay on the carpet. Her breath hitched. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she leaned down to pick it up. The paper felt warm and soft against her skin, as if it carried the lingering heat of Alastair's touch.

Her hands trembled more violently now as she unfolded the letter, the sight of Alastair's familiar handwriting threatening to break her. She couldn't stop herself from reading the first few lines, her eyes scanning the words as tears immediately blurred her vision.

My Dearest Zaviya,

I don't know where to begin, but maybe it's best to start at the very beginning, the day you first captured my heart. We were five years old then, at the park. I remember it vividly-the way you stood your ground against those boys who wouldn't give you your turn on the swing. You had your little fists clenched, pigtails bouncing as you argued. I stood there, awestruck, too young to understand the magnitude of what I was feeling. But in that moment, I silently promised myself that one day, I'd marry you. Even at five, you were the fiercest, most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

Our lives became intertwined in ways I never could have imagined. The rivalry that consumed us throughout the years? I cherished every moment of it. For all the teasing, the arguments, the petty competitions-it gave me an excuse to be close to you. You were the fire that lit up my otherwise mundane world, and though I often acted like you drove me crazy, the truth is, I was happiest when I was with you, even when we fought.

When our parents arranged for us to marry, I hated it. I thought it was the cruelest twist of fate. I know you felt the same way. And yet, when we stood before that officiant in New York, it felt like we were standing on the edge of the world, like we were saying goodbye to everything we had been and stepping into something new-something terrifying and exhilarating. We lived like strangers in that grand mansion for months, walking on eggshells, avoiding each other. But somewhere along the way, everything shifted. I don't know when it happened, but I fell for you, Zaviya. Hard.

Do you remember the day you told me you were pregnant? I've never been so happy. I dreamed of our life together-the family we'd build, the laughter that would fill our home. But then Olga came, and everything fell apart. She wasn't just a person; she was a storm, and she tore through us, leaving destruction in her wake. You lost your memories of us, and we lost our child-our precious baby. I blamed myself for all of it. I still do.

I tried, Zavi. I tried so hard to hold us together. I relived every moment we ever shared, hoping it would spark something in you, make you remember the love we once had. But all I did was hurt you more. I was so desperate to keep you that I became the very thing that pushed you away. I broke you, Zaviya. I broke us. And for that, I am so, so sorry.

I am sorry for everything-for breaking your heart, for failing our marriage, for causing you pain. I am sorry for not protecting you when you needed me most, for the loss of our child, and for pushing you to stay in a love that only seemed to destroy us both. I thought I was fighting for us, but all I did was make things worse.

I signed the papers not because I wanted to let you go, but because I love you too much to force you to stay with me. If there's even the smallest chance it could make you happy, then I'll let myself break. I'll step aside, Zaviya, even though every fiber of me are breaking for leaving you.

I'm leaving, not because I don't love you, but because I love you too much to keep hurting you. You deserve freedom-freedom from the pain, the sorrow, the heartache. You deserve a chance to find happiness, even if it's not with me. This is my last act of love for you, Zaviya: letting you go.

At the bottom of my heart, where all my deepest feelings for you reside, know this-I will love you for the rest of my life. You will always be the girl with the pigtails in the park, the woman who lit up my world, the love I was lucky enough to call mine, even for just a moment.

I wish you nothing but happiness, Zaviya. Even if it's not with me, please find someone who will cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished. And please, never forget that there was once a woman who loved you with every piece of her broken soul.

Goodbye, my love.

Always and forever yours,Alastair

Her chest heaved, her breathing uneven as she pressed a hand to her mouth, the other clutching the letter so tightly that the edges began to crumple. Alastair's words cut through her like a knife, exposing every layer of regret, every buried feeling Zaviya had tried to suppress.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, dripping onto the paper as her grip slackened. The letter felt heavier than the envelope, heavier than the divorce papers themselves, as if it carried the weight of everything unsaid between them.

Her heart screamed in protest, memories flashing before her-the sarcastic banter, the quiet moments when Alastair's eyes softened, the fleeting touches that lingered longer than they should have. She had convinced herself it was all for show, a performance for their parents. But now, as she read Alastair's words, she knew that wasn't the whole truth.

A sob escaped her lips, unbidden and raw. She pressed the letter to her chest, as if it could somehow bridge the chasm between them, as if it could make her feel Alastair's presence one last time.

The divorce papers lay forgotten on the bed, their finality overshadowed by the storm raging inside her. She had agreed to this, hadn't she? She had played her part, convinced herself that this was what they both wanted. And yet, now that Alastair had signed her name and walked away, Zaviya couldn't ignore the hollow ache left in her heart.

Tears blurred her vision again as she whispered into the empty room, her voice trembling and barely audible. "Why didn't I see it sooner? I don't want this," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want this, Alastair. I don't want to let you go."

The walls of the mansion seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with their silence. She sat there for hours, clutching the letter, her tears soaking into the paper as the weight of her decision loomed heavy over her.

She gather all the strength that left to her and she emerges from the master bedroom. She slowly walks into the nursery room. The room was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against Zaviya's chest like a suffocating weight. She stood at the threshold, frozen, as if stepping inside would break her apart entirely. Her fingers trembled as she pushed the door open, the creak of its hinges slicing through the stillness.

The room was pristine, untouched by time, yet it felt like a graveyard of dreams. The pastel walls, painted with care, now seemed to mock her with the innocence they once promised. At the center of the room stood the crib, its emptiness reverberating through her like a scream.

Her legs felt like lead, but she willed herself forward, each step heavier than the last. When her hand brushed against the wooden crib, a sob escaped her lips, unbidden and raw. She traced the carefully lettered name on the wall, "Zariah Addison," and the memory hit her like a tidal wave.

She could still see Alastair's face, lit with a joy so pure it was almost childlike, as she glued the letters to the wall. They had laughed, argued over the placement of a stuffed giraffe, and dreamed together in this very room. Now, those dreams lay shattered, their pieces too jagged to ever fit together again.

Zaviya sank onto the cushioned chair beside the crib, her body trembling with the effort to hold herself together. She opened the small drawer, her hands blindly rummaging until they landed on something soft. She pulled out a tiny pink sock, its delicate threads a cruel reminder of the life that never came to be. She clutched it to her chest as if it could anchor her, but the weight of her grief overwhelmed her, and she broke.

Her cries filled the room, raw and guttural, as she whispered her apologies into the emptiness. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry for everything. For not protecting you. For losing you. For being so angry at dadda... and now, I've lost her too."

Her voice cracked, and she pressed the sock harder against her chest, as if it could bring her the comfort she desperately sought. She reached into the drawer again, this time pulling out a pair of mittens. But something else caught her eye-a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the fabric.

Her brows furrowed as she picked it up, her fingers trembling as she unfolded it. She wasn't sure what she expected, but the sight of Alastair's familiar handwriting made her chest constrict.

The words blurred at first, her tears falling freely onto the page. But as she read, her sobs grew louder, echoing in the hollow room.

Dear Zaviya,

I've rewritten this letter more times than I can count, and every version feels inadequate-like no words could ever carry the weight of what I've done to you, to us. Maybe this is selfish. Maybe it's cruel. But I can't hold it in any longer.

There's so much you don't know, Zaviya. So much I never had the courage to tell you. And now, every second I've kept silent feels like another betrayal. We weren't just rivals faking civility. We were something real, something sacred. We were happy-or so I thought-until I failed you in the worst way imaginable.

Two years ago, we said our vows in front of the closest people that we love, promising each other forever. Though it's an arranged first for both of us, but soon after we found ourselves falling deeply to each other. I want to tell you the truth, Zaviya. I want to tell you that you're not just the woman I love-you're my wife. That we stood together, promising forever, not knowing how fragile forever could be. I want to tell you about our unborn child, the tiny heartbeat we once dreamed would grow into a beautiful life. But forever was stolen from us. You don't remember, do you? You don't remember the child we created together, a life we never got to hold because of me. You don't remember the night it all fell apart-the storm, the crash, the silence that followed.

I swear, I didn't betray you. I can't do that to you my love. That night in the hotel, it wasn't what it looked like. Olga set me up. But I was too late to explain, too late to stop you from driving off into the storm. I have chased after you, begged you to listen, and we argued. And then the accident... the coma... and now, this endless void where our memories should be.

Every day, I think about that night. The storm, the rain, the argument that tore us apart. I see you behind the wheel, your hands trembling with rage and heartbreak. The accident took so much from you, from us. It stole our child, our memories, and the future we were supposed to share.

Do you know what it's like to watch someone you love forget every piece of you? To see them smile and not know that they used to smile for you? I've been living in that nightmare every single day, torn between holding on and letting go.

I didn't tell you the truth before because I was scared-scared that knowing would hurt you more, that it would push you even further away. I want to tell you everything, but I'm terrified. Terrified that you'll hate me even more when you remember the way we fell apart. But now I see the pain I've caused by staying silent. You deserve to know everything, even if it means hating me for the rest of your life.

I love you, Zaviya. I have always loved you, in every argument, every painful silence, and every moment I pretended to be okay while my heart was shattering inside. My love for you remains, even as I stand here knowing that if you ever discover the truth, you may never look at me the same again. And maybe, I deserve that. Maybe, I deserve every ounce of the emptiness I feel without you truly remembering us.

I'm sorry, Zaviya. I'm sorry for the mistakes I made, for the lies that broke us, for the selfish choices that shattered the life we built together. You gave me your everything-your heart, your trust, your dreams-and I threw it all away. They say love makes people do foolish things, and I have been the most foolish of all. I didn't just hurt you-I destroyed us.

If I could go back, I would do anything to change what happened. I would never have fallen into that trap, I would have stayed that night at your side talking about our dreams for our little family, and never let you believe the worst of me. I'd hold you tighter, fight harder, and cherish every moment we had. Instead, I let my weakness ruin everything-the life we dreamed of, the family we were supposed to have.

I don't know if you'll ever forgive me. I don't know if I even deserve it. But I need you to know, Zaviya, that I have never stopped loving you. Not for a single second.

If this letter means nothing to you, I'll understand. But if there's even the smallest piece of your heart that remembers what we had and if there's even the smallest chance that you could forgive me someday, please... let me try to fix this. Let me try to fix us. I will wait for you. I will always wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

Always yours,Alastair

The letter was a confession, an apology written two years ago-a time when Zaviya's memories were still locked away, and all she had known was the rivalry that had defined their lives since childhood. Alastair's words bled with regret, each sentence a dagger to Zaviya's heart.

The letter spoke of a love so deep it terrified Alastair, of the pain of watching Zaviya look at her with disdain, unaware of the life they had once shared. It spoke of the agony of keeping the truth hidden, of wanting to tell her everything but fearing it would push her further away.

Zaviya's hands shook as she clutched the letter. She felt the weight of Alastair's sorrow, the depth of her love, and the unbearable guilt she carried. And for the first time, Zaviya saw the cracks in her own anger, the bitterness she had clung to so tightly.

Her tears fell harder, mingling with the ink as she whispered into the stillness, "You should have told me... You should have told me everything."

But even as she said it, she knew the truth. She hadn't made it easy for Alastair. She had been consumed by her own pain, her own anger, and she had shut Alastair out when she needed her most.

Zaviya folded the letter carefully and pressed it to her chest, alongside the tiny sock. Her grief was a storm, relentless and unforgiving, but beneath it, a seed of something else stirred. They had both lost too much already.

*****************'' '' 'The hours stretched endlessly as Zaviya lay curled up on the bed-no, her bed now. The side where Alastair once lay felt unnervingly cold, as though the warmth of her presence had been stolen by the void she left behind. Zaviya clutched Alastair's pillow tightly, burying her face in its softness. Her faint scent lingered, a bittersweet reminder of laughter, closeness, and the love they shared. Tears flowed freely, as though her body was desperate to release the unbearable weight of pain lodged in her chest.

Alastair was gone. Not because she stopped loving Zaviya, but because she could no longer endure the exhausting cycle of loving, keeping, and saving them both. Zaviya buried her under the weight of her pride, her flaws, and her fears until there was nothing left of her. And now... she's gone, and Zaviya is alone.

A gentle, familiar hand rested on Zaviya's back, comforting but not enough to mend the ache. She didn't need to look to know it was her mother; the touch was too maternal to be anyone else's. At the foot of the bed stood her father, his face drawn with worry and sorrow. And in the doorway, her closest friends-Oliana, Reika, Cass, Violet, Yevhen, and Khali-stood silently, their gazes heavy with sympathy. They were all there, offering support, but the only comfort she truly craved was the one person who wasn't.

If she could undo every hurt she'd caused Alastair, she would. If she could turn back time and hold on tighter, she would. But the cruel truth was that she couldn't. And now, all that remained was the hollow, aching void in her chest.

"Zavi, anak," her mom murmured, her voice breaking the silence with tender care. "We're here for you."

Those simple words made the dam of emotions burst further. Zaviya cried harder, her sobs coming out in uncontrollable waves, shaking her entire frame.

"Why are you here, Mom? Dad? Why are you all here?" she choked out between sobs, refusing to lift her tear-streaked face.

Her father stepped closer, his voice calm but carrying the weight of sadness. "Because you need us now more than ever, anak. You're not alone in this."

Zaviya shot upright suddenly, her face blotchy with tears as her voice cracked, "But I am alone, Dad, Alastair left me-for good this time."

The words tore through the room like a storm, and the sobs she had been holding back erupted violently. Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as Zaviya buried her face in her shoulder. It was a safe harbor, but not enough to soothe the gaping wound inside her.

"We know, anak," her mom whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Alastair came to us this morning."

The words made Zaviya pull back, confusion clouding her tear-filled eyes. "She... she did?"

Her father nodded, his expression somber. "She apologized, Zavi. For everything-even things that weren't her fault. She apologized for breaking her promise to us that she'd never hurt you. And she apologized for leaving you now... but she said she needed to find herself"

Zaviya froze, the words cutting deeper than anything else could. Alastair, her Alastair, always carried burdens that weren't hers to bear. Even in her departure, she was taking responsibility for the hurt they both shared. Even now, when she's the one who's been hurt the most.

Her mother's warm arms encircled her, a gesture that should have brought comfort but only magnified the ache in her chest. She clenched the hem of her sweater as if it could somehow anchor her in a moment that was slipping away too fast.

"Why?" she choked out, her voice raw and broken. "Why did she have to leave? I love her, Mom! I love her so much. Why couldn't I just-"

Her mother's hand ran through her hair in soothing strokes, though her words pierced softly but sharply. "Shh, anak. You did love her. And she loved you. So much. But sometimes... love isn't enough."

The ache in Zaviya's chest grew heavier, crushing the air from her lungs. "But why, Mom? Why did it have to end like this? Why couldn't I fix it? Why couldn't we fix it?" The questions poured from her, each one a futile cry for something she knew she could never change.

Her mother's voice was steady but tinged with sorrow. "You both tried, anak. You gave it your all. But sometimes, trying isn't enough. Sometimes, letting go is the most loving thing you can do for someone."

The denial surged in her like a storm. "No. No, I could've done more. I should've done more," she insisted, her voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down her face.

From the corner of the room, Oliana moved closer, her expression calm but resolute. She knelt beside the bed, her steady gaze meeting Zaviya's broken one. "Zaviya," she said firmly, "you loved her the best way you could. And she loved you the best way she could. But Alastair was breaking, Zavi. You saw it. We all saw it. She needed to leave-not because she didn't love you but because she couldn't keep losing herself to hold onto you."

The words hit Zaviya like a dagger, cutting through her grief with brutal clarity. She tried to meet Oliana's gaze, but her vision blurred with tears. "Then why does it feel like this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Like I'm dying inside?"

Reika, standing quietly near the doorway, finally stepped forward. Her voice was soft but weighted with understanding. "Because love hurts, Zavi," she said, her words carrying a quiet sadness. "Especially when you have to let it go. But sometimes, letting go is the only way to save the love that's left. Alastair loves you, Zavi. She always will. But she needs to love herself now, too."

Zaviya's hands trembled as she wiped at her face, though the tears wouldn't stop. Her friends' words were true, but the truth didn't ease the pain. It only made it sharper, more real. She pressed a hand over her heart, as if she could hold it together while it shattered inside her.

"Why? why, Mom, Dad? Why does it have to be this way? Why do we have to suffer?"

"Because love is hard, anak," her father replied gently, sitting beside her on the bed. "It's not always fair. Your mother is right sometimes, letting go is the kindest, most loving thing you can do-for yourself and for the one you love."

"But I don't want to let her go," Zaviya admitted, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. "I don't know how to live without her. I don't know how to breathe without her."

"That's why we're here," Khali spoke softly, stepping further into the room. "To remind you that you're not alone, Zavi. You have us. You have your parents. You have people who love you and will hold you up until you're ready to stand again."

Reika knelt beside the bed, gently taking Zaviya's hand. "We've all seen how much Alastair loves you. She gave everything she had until there was nothing left for herself. And that's not your fault. It's just... love."

"You can't keep blaming yourself," Violet added, her tone firm yet soft. "Alastair wouldn't want that. She'd want you to heal, to grow, to be the Zaviya she fell in love with."

Zaviya's tears fell harder as their words surrounded her, filling the room with unwavering support. Despite their intentions, the weight of Alastair's absence felt heavier than ever.

"You'll get through this," Cass said confidently, her voice steady. "It won't be easy, but you will. And we'll be here for every step."

Zaviya clutched her mother's hand, her gaze shifting to her father, then her friends. "Do you really think she'll be okay? That I'll be okay?"

"You both will," her father answered without hesitation. "Because love like yours doesn't just disappear. It changes, anak. It evolves. But it's always there. And sometimes, loving someone means giving them the space to heal-even if it hurts like hell."

The words hung in the air, a mix of comfort and heartache. As they sank in, Zaviya felt the faintest flicker of hope amidst the grief. Letting Alastair go didn't mean the love they shared was gone. It simply meant loving her enough to let her find herself, even if it meant being apart.

And as the tears continued to fall, Zaviya clung tightly to the love that would always remain, believing-if only a little-that they would both find their way, no matter where the journey led.

----------------------------------Updateeeee binagsak ko na para todo na ang sakit 🤧💞

Comment your thoughts 💭🤕🤧

#ABF 49