My hands trembled as I pressed the small button inside the box, triggering the lid to open with a soft click. I stepped out, my vision blurred by unshed tears. My gaze landed on the Moonstone in my hand, its soft glow a symbol of the devotion I had once carried for him. I had gone to great lengths to obtain it, believing it would prove my unwavering love.
But he wasn’t worthy of it.
Taking a deep breath, I let the Moonstone’s energy seep into me, absorbing its power. Its radiance faded, leaving behind a dull, lifeless stone. Just like my love for Harland—it no longer held any meaning.
Without hesitation, I tossed the stone into the trash can, followed by the discarded gift box. I wiped away my tears.
Stepping outside into the cold night air, my phone buzzed. I answered out of habit.
"Where are you?" Harland’s impatient voice barked through the line. "Get back here. We’re throwing a party for Maureen’s return."
Maureen. The real daughter. His first love.
I ended the call without replying. The world around me blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks. My life had crumbled into ruins, leaving me utterly alone.
Avery's POV
I shoved open the heavy oak doors of the packhouse, stepping into the grand foyer. The familiar scent of pine and earth filled my lungs, yet it no longer felt like home. My fingers brushed against my swollen eyes, willing away the redness before anyone could notice.
His scent was still here—strong, commanding, impossible to ignore. Even before I saw him, I heard his footsteps. And then, there he was.
Harland’s sharp gaze locked onto mine the moment he rounded the corner.
“Avery,” he said, his tone cool and clipped. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
A part of me wanted to believe he asked because he cared. That maybe, just maybe, I still mattered. But there was no softness in his face, no concern—only impatience.
“It’s nothing,” I murmured, lowering my gaze. “Just... got something in them.”
He studied me for a brief moment, then shrugged. “We’re late. Let’s go.”
I hesitated. “I need to change first. I—”
“No,” he cut me off, his voice firm. “You don’t need to change. We don’t have time for that.”
I glanced down at my worn jeans and plain shirt, my stomach sinking. “But—”
“Enough, Avery.” His fingers wrapped around my wrist—not rough, but unyielding. “You look fine. We’re leaving.”
Fine. That’s all I ever was to him now. Just... fine.