Eminence (Wattpad Edition)

Note 7 - Thoughts, Feelings, Actions

Note 7 - Thoughts, Feelings, Actions

Warren's alarm went off at 5:45 every morning, and Emanon was always the first to turn it off. Adjusting to his schedule hadn't been easy, but she liked being awake when he was. Every morning, without fail, she'd yank the covers off him and climb onto the bed like a mischief sprite, standing until he gave up trying to fall back asleep.

Warren would groan, half-conscious, and pull her down into his arms. She'd collapse against him with a soft thud, and he'd wrap her up, burying his face in her shoulder. He'd mumble that it was too early to exist, and she'd pat his head with mock sympathy.

For the last three weeks, that had been their ritual.

But today, her tone carried something more serious.

She waited until his breathing deepened into something close to alertness.

"Warren?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?"

"You know Jack's visiting soon, right?"

***

Warren didn't respond. He got up and headed for the bathroom instead. He needed a shower, he needed to think.

He wasn't dreading Jack's visit because he hated him—he didn't, not exactly. The truth was, he didn't know him well enough to hate him. But there was something unsettling about the situation, a feeling that sat heavy in his chest like a stone. It wasn't the man himself that bothered him—it was what Jack's presence represented.

Emanon had a past he couldn't touch, and a version of herself she carried that he knew nothing about. It was the unknown that gnawed at him.

Warren had spent the last few days trying to make sense of their growing connection, trying to understand Emanon, trying to see her as she was now. But Jack, in his own way, had a claim on Emanon—a claim Warren couldn't fully grasp. He couldn't deny the jealousy that rose in him, or the unease that bubbled up every time he thought about it.

The years they'd known each other used to mean something, the days they'd spent apart, whatever they had been, felt like a world Warren didn't belong to, a world that existed before he'd come into the picture. It wasn't that he felt excluded—but the thought of Jack being someone she'd once known, someone she'd trusted— and now, Jack was coming back, and Warren didn't know if he was ready to see what that reunion would bring.. But after what happened, he was sure they felt more like strangers than old friends. Debris from a bridge that had already burned.

And if someone becomes a stranger, do you still hold them to the standard of who they used to be?

Warren didn't even know the answer to that. He only knew that he wanted to understand—to understand her, to understand the pieces of her that Jack had a claim on. What had Jack left behind? What had she let him take, and could she forgive him for that?

But what makes someone worthy of forgiveness? Some people give it easily. Others never do.

Warren had no history with Jack— no wounds to heal, no resentment to untangle. But he knew the weight of the question because it hung heavy in Emanon's silence.

Even if the facts seem clear, memory muddies judgment. Emotion distorts the verdict. Forgiveness stops being an answer—it becomes an ethical gamble.

He wasn't blind to that. He knew that once Jack showed up, things wouldn't be as simple as just hearing a story. Everything would be colored by words and the scars that still lingered would begin to burn. Forgiveness wasn't a decision—it was a reflection of everything they hadn't said, everything they couldn't undo.