I didn’t bother reading the rest. I tossed my phone on the counter. None of it mattered anymore.
I went to my room to pack up my things. The apartment didn’t even feel like mine anymore—it hadn’t for a long time. While I was boxing up my belongings, I found a wooden box shoved to the back of my closet.
Inside were all the little gifts Damon had given me over the years: a silver bracelet, a necklace with the pack crest, handwritten notes about how much he cared. They used to mean everything to me, but now they just felt like weights holding me back.
I grabbed the box and headed outside. The clearing was quiet, bathed in the soft light of the full moon. It was the same place where our pack held celebrations and ceremonies, but tonight, it was just for me.
I set the box in the middle of the fire pit and lit a match. The flames caught quickly, swallowing the mementos one by one. The bracelet melted, the paper curled into ash, and with each piece that burned, I felt lighter.
This was my way of letting go.
The sound of footsteps made me glance over my shoulder. Damon was storming toward me, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Elara, what the hell are you doing?!” he shouted.
I didn’t look at him, keeping my focus on the fire.
He came closer, his voice rising. “You’re burning everything? Are you insane? Those were our memories!”
I finally turned to face him, my voice calm. “Your memories, Damon. Not mine. This was all stuff you gave me to make yourself feel better. I’m done carrying it around.”
He stared at me, his frustration boiling over. “You’re seriously just throwing it all away? Like none of it ever mattered?”
I shrugged, keeping my tone even. “It mattered to me once, but not anymore. You made sure of that.”
For a moment, he just stood there, his chest heaving like he was about to explode. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
I stayed by the fire, watching it burn until there was nothing left but embers. As the flames died down, I felt something inside me shift. For the first time in years, I wasn’t holding on to the past.
I was finally free.
I dusted myself off, standing in the soft glow of the fire. The warmth on my face didn’t match the icy tone of my voice.
“It’s fine,” I said flatly. “I found a bunch of bugs crawling in the box—probably cockroaches—so I burned it.”