Capturing Her Heart

12

                           •Elysian Monroe•

"I don't want you to go yet. Please stay," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

She sighed softly, tightening her grip around me. Deep down, I knew it was futile; she was going to leave, no matter how hard I wished otherwise.

"Yena, sweetheart, you know I can't," she replied gently.

A small sound of annoyance escaped me. I had always hated that nickname she used. I wasn't sure why she had started calling me that in the first place. I hummed softly and wriggled out of her embrace, taking a few steps back to look up at her.

"Mum, why do you call me that?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

Her light chuckle only made me more frustrated, and I couldn't help but scowl at her amusement.

"My darling Elysian," she began, her voice soothing yet heart-wrenching.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I didn't understand why my heart felt heavy at her words. She brought her hand up to my face, resting it gently against my cheek.

"Everyone else will call you Ly or Lysian. You might feel like you're not special to anyone because of it, but I want you to know just how special you are to me. That's why I call you Yena. No one else will, and that only makes it more special," she continued, her voice dripping with love.

As she spoke, the tears spilled over, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for being upset about the nickname.

"You will always be my Yena," she finished, her voice trembling.

I let out a small sob, falling against her as she enveloped me in her arms once again. I clung to her waist tightly, letting the warmth of her embrace wash over me as my tears soaked through her shirt.

She rubbed my back soothingly, whispering comforting words into my ear, but something felt wrong.

It felt as though letting her go meant I would never see her again, and if I held on too tightly, I risked breaking her apart in my arms. This confusion made me cry harder.

"Please tell my beautiful baby girl that I love her, hm?" she whispered.

I felt her start to pull away, and instinctively, I gripped her tighter. I knew this wasn't real, that it was a dream, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. If I did, I would wake up, and I desperately wanted to stay here.

"I am so proud of you. Please carry that with you, okay?" she said gently.

I sniffled and nodded; my throat constricted from sobs. I couldn't form the words I wanted to express; even if I could, I wasn't sure if I would.

As much as I craved to share my thoughts, I longed to hear her voice just once more—maybe more than anything else.

I was relieved that she understood my silence; it was a trait I had inherited from her. But when I sensed her slipping away again, I hugged her waist even tighter, burying my face into her stomach.

"You have to let me go now, Yena," she whispered, her voice laced with pain.

It was then that I could feel the tremor in her body beneath mine. She was crying too.I shook my head, the weight of denial pressing heavily on my chest.

"I don't belong here anymore, and I think you know that" she sobbed, her voice cracking.

I nodded, and in that moment, she broke down. We both collapsed to the floor, her grip loosening. My heart shattered at the realization—this was slipping away all too quickly.