Zaydon’s face was a canvas of torment, his lips parting in a silent plea. His expression shifted between agony and resignation, reflecting the shattered state of my own heart.

“I thought… I thought I was protecting you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But now I see…”

“Now you see?” I interrupted, my voice rising. “Now you see the cost of your betrayal?”

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the echoes of unspoken regrets and the crushing weight of our fractured bond. My strength faltered as I released him, my tears flowing freely.

“I hate you, Zaydon Icarus,” I spat, my voice trembling under the weight of my bitterness. “And I wish I’d never kissed you.”

The impact of my words was immediate. He flinched as if they had physically struck him, his expression crumbling into something raw and pained. The sight of him like that twisted my stomach into knots, but I refused to let it show.

As I stood, my legs wavered beneath me, the strength threatening to give out, but I steadied myself with sheer force of will. He looked utterly shattered, a picture of devastation that only deepened the turmoil within me.

“Az, I—” he started, his voice breaking, but I silenced him with a sharp glare.

“It’s Princess Azalea now,” I said, my tone as icy as the resolve gripping me. “You’ve lost the right to be familiar with me.”

The words hung in the air like a closing door, a final barrier between us that I refused to lower.

Without waiting for a response, I stormed toward the doors, flinging them open with a force that reverberated through the corridor. The sound of the wood slamming shut behind me echoed like thunder, punctuating the finality of my words. The last thing I saw before closing them was Zaydon’s desperate eyes, his hand trembling as it reached out for me—only to fall limply to his side as if the weight of his choices was too much to bear.

Inside the solitude of my room, my strength crumbled. I collapsed to the floor, the cold stone biting against my knees as my sobs erupted uncontrollably. The anguish clawed its way out of me, raw and relentless. I didn’t care if he could hear me through the heavy oak doors. Let him hear the devastation he’d caused. Let him know the depth of the destruction he had wrought upon my heart.

It felt as though my heart was being torn apart; each beat was a jagged, slicing pain that left me gasping for air. The relentless ache consumed me, spreading through my chest and into my very bones, suffocating me in its merciless hold. Every breath felt like a battle, as though my lungs were weighted down by the heaviness of my grief.

Every precious memory, every whisper of affection I’d shared with him, was being violently wrenched from my soul, leaving behind raw, exposed wounds that bled with every thought of him. Alone in the dim light of my room, the heartache grew unbearable. My sobs turned into desperate, wordless cries, echoing against the walls like a haunting refrain of my pain.

Despite the venomous words I had spat at him, my love for Zaydon was a force so profound it scarred me beyond repair. Hating him felt like a betrayal of my own heart, yet the agony of loving him—knowing he had chosen this cruel fate—threatened to consume me entirely. The thought of despising him became my lifeline, the only way I could hope to endure this torment.

But how could I hate the man I had kissed only hours ago? The man whose embrace I had once felt safe in? The thought shattered me further, ripping apart what little resolve I had left, leaving only fragments of the trust we’d shared.

The image of a blank-faced prince driving his sword into Zaydon’s chest consumed my mind. The nightmare played out with vivid, horrifying clarity: the prince’s vile smile, the blood dripping from his blade—Zaydon’s blood. My body convulsed at the thought, waves of nausea crashing over me. I could almost hear the sickening squelch of the blade piercing his flesh, the metallic tang of death filling the air.

I clutched my stomach as my body heaved uncontrollably, each convulsion a physical manifestation of the anguish ripping through me. My tears soaked the cold, unforgiving floor as I cried, my sobs becoming jagged gasps for air. I had to find a way to despise him, or I would lose myself completely.

The bedroom door groaned under the weight of him leaning against it. His voice, soft and trembling, reached me through the barrier. Each word carried a raw sorrow that sliced through the storm of my sobs.

“You are strong, Az,” he said, his voice breaking with an emotion that twisted the knife in my chest even further. “You will survive this and find a love better than what I could ever offer you.”

His words lingered, cruel in their bittersweet truth. Each syllable carried the weight of what was lost, a painful blend of comfort and torment that tore at the fragile seams of my heart. His voice, just beyond the door, felt so close and yet impossibly distant, as though an entire chasm now separated us.

I pressed my hand to my chest, futilely trying to hold together the shattered remnants of my heart, the ache inside me relentless.

What a cruel world, I thought bitterly, the words echoing in my mind like a whispered curse.

A single and final tear broke free, carving a glistening, silent path down my cheek. In the dim light, it shimmered briefly, a fragile testament to the depth of my heartbreak. It lingered on my jaw for a fleeting moment, a quiet, final reminder of everything I had lost—and the last time I vowed to shed a tear for Zaydon Icarus.