Trying to live

Chapter 46

I stared at the closed door for a few seconds, my gaze lingering before settling on the box Rose had left me. My fingers hesitated as I reached for it, a dull ache forming in my chest. I unwrapped the delicate paper, only to freeze when I saw the label underneath.

Her mother's label.

Here. Your birthday present.

A lump formed in my throat. Rose never gifted anything from her mom's collection unless she truly believed the person deserved it. Her mother was a designer, specializing in custom-made pieces—handcrafted, intricate, and deeply personal to whoever wore them. Every piece was a story, a sentiment stitched into fabric.

This box held something made just for me. Something Rose had asked her mother to design with me in mind.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with guilt. I didn't deserve this. Not after what I had done. My hands trembled as I pushed the box into my closet as if tucking it away could bury the weight of my mistakes. I leaned against the closet door, my breath shaky.

I never wanted her to feel left out. I had simply been so caught up in the relief of rekindling my friendship with Priya that I hadn't noticed the way I had pushed Rose aside. Those few weeks had felt normal again like nothing had happened—like I could pretend my world hadn't been flipped upside down.

I had destroyed our friendship.

Unintentionally or not, it didn't matter. Pain was pain, and I had caused hers. I had seen it in her eyes, raw and unguarded, and I had done nothing to stop it. I was selfish—I could admit that now. I had used her, let her distract me, let her make me feel a little less broken. But I had never let her in, not fully. I had kept her at arm's length because I was terrified—terrified she would hurt me like the others had.

And when the moment came to defend myself, to fight for our friendship, my mouth had betrayed me. It was as if someone had sealed it shut, leaving me silent when I needed to speak the most.

I should have felt relieved that it was over. But all I felt was empty.

Everything Rose said had been bearable—until her last words cut through me like a blade:

You're not in love with him, Em. You're just trying to make yourself feel better. And to make him feel better. But deep down, you're still in love with the guy who broke your heart.

I wanted to scream at her, to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to hate her for saying it. But the truth was—I couldn't. Because deep down, I was afraid she was right.

Her voice mixed with Wyatt's, Henry's, and Cam's in my head, his words striking another blow:

I just want you to know that he really loves you, but the question is—do you really love him?

Now, you're just going to hurt him because you can't figure out your own shit. Do you even care about him? Or is this just another way to get back at me?

You don't love him, do you?

This isn't fair to him, Em. And you know it.

I want you to love me at your own pace—not because you feel like you have to. Just don't use me.

Their voices tangled together in my mind, suffocating me. Hot, angry tears spilled down my cheeks, and I hated myself for them. I hated that I couldn't fight back, couldn't defend my relationship with Cam. I hated that I had taken this step with him out of recklessness, out of anger—because the truth was, I didn't know if I was with him for the right reasons.