Not all stories end on a happy note. 

Some get twisted, some turn pale-grey, some leave behind broken shards and bleeding page. While some... some burn in the fire of their own rage.

The one that consumes everything in its way. The one that finally erupts after being held captive in the chains of patience and innocence.

Tell me, for how long one can turn a blind eye to the warnings of one’s own heart? For how long one can stay strangled in one’s own breaths? A day comes, surely, when the seemingly never-ending cycle changes its distorted form. When everything falls apart. When the chokehold loses its years-long grip, revealing an ending at the brink of its extinction.

Surprisingly, the very fire that brings about this destruction becomes the first spark of a new beginning.

One such beginning took its first exhale in the ashes of this story.

In the story of her.

She, who had been and now chose to own them.