My Sin

Closure

Now, as the Empress gently fed him the congee, the emperor could see the remnants of that bright, beautiful young man in his eyes, but he also saw the pain, the hurt that had been inflicted over the years. The guilt weighed heavily on him, and he could no longer hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall since his children had left the room.

"I'm sorry, Yue'er," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for everything."

The Empress paused, looking at him with a mix of sadness and resignation. "I know you are, and it's not your fault." he replied quietly. "But apologies won't erase the past. They won't heal the wounds that have been inflicted."

The emperor sobbed, his body wracked with the force of his regret. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to lose what we had."

The Empress set the bowl aside, reaching out to gently wipe the tears from the emperor's face. "I believe you, and I forgive you" he said softly. "But believing and forgiving doesn't make the pain go away. My heart... it doesn't beat the same way it used to. It doesn't make waves anymore. I don't feel hatred, or sadness, I'm just at peace"

The emperor's eyes widened, a flicker of something like hope crossing his face. "You forgive me?" he asked, his voice trembling, a thread of fragile happiness woven into his words.

For years, he hadn't dared to hope for anything beyond this. He knew he had lost the Empress's love long ago, and he had made peace with that—or at least tried to. But in the quiet hours, when the weight of his regrets pressed down on him, he allowed himself one small, desperate wish: that he might still have a place, however small, in the Empress's heart. That maybe, just maybe, there was still a piece of him that was remembered fondly, despite everything.

But now, hearing the Empress's words, that small hope was shattered. The forgiveness he had longed for was there, but it came with a bitter truth—he no longer had any part of the Empress's heart. The realization struck him with a force that made his breath hitch, a painful clarity sinking into his chest.

The emperor had always known he'd lost something precious, but hearing it confirmed left him feeling hollow, as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. There was no going back. The Empress had moved on, had found a way to live without him, and now all that was left for the emperor was this cold, empty acceptance.

He swallowed, trying to find words, but his throat tightened painfully. The happiness that had sparked for a brief moment was replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. He had never truly believed he could reclaim the love they once shared, but to know that there wasn't even a small corner of the Empress's heart left for him—it was more than he could bear.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He felt as if something vital inside him had been torn away, leaving behind only emptiness. He had clung to the idea that forgiveness might mean something more, that it might be a way to keep some small connection between them alive. But now he understood that forgiveness was just that—an end, a finality that left no room for anything else.

The emperor let out a bitter, broken laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet room. "I should be grateful," he said, more to himself than to the Empress. "Grateful that you've forgiven me. But all I can feel is... is this emptiness. Because I can't let you go, Yue'er. I can't. I love you too much."

The Empress's eyes softened, but there was a sadness there too, a quiet understanding that only deepened the emperor's grief. "I know," the Empress replied gently, his voice filled with the weight of unspoken sorrow. "But love... love isn't enough anymore. Not after everything."

The emperor's bitter smile faltered, and the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over. He had lost everything—the Empress's love, his place in his heart—and yet he couldn't stop loving him. It was a cruel irony, one that twisted the knife in his chest even deeper. He had hurt the Empress so much, and now he was paying the price, trapped in a love that could never be returned.

"I don't know how to let go," the emperor admitted, his voice shaking with raw emotion. "I don't know how to stop loving you, even when I know I should. Even when I know it's too late."

The Empress's hand reached out, gently brushing away the emperor's tears, and for a moment, the touch was almost enough to soothe the ache in his heart. But it wasn't enough to heal it. Nothing would ever be enough to heal the wound that had been left by the loss of the Empress's love.

"I wish I could give you what you want," the Empress said softly, his voice laced with regret. "But all I can give you is my forgiveness. It's all I have left to offer."

The emperor nodded, choking back a sob as he tried to find some comfort in those words. But all he could feel was the sharp, relentless pain of knowing that forgiveness was all he would ever have. The love that had once made his world complete was gone, and he was left alone in the wreckage, clinging to the memory of what could never be.

And so, he laughed again, the sound bitter and broken. What else could he do? He loved the Empress too much to let him go, even if it meant living with this unbearable pain. Even if it meant carrying the weight of this heartbreak for the rest of his life.

"I love you," the emperor whispered, his voice trembling with the depth of his sorrow. "I always will. Even if it destroys me."

The Empress didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped the emperor's face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. It was a touch that, years ago, had brought comfort and strength, but now it felt like a lifeline the emperor could no longer hold onto. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of everything that had been lost, of a love that had been fractured beyond repair.

For a moment, the emperor allowed himself to lean into that touch, to feel the warmth that once meant everything to him. But as the Empress slowly pulled away, letting his hands fall back to his sides, the emperor felt a cold emptiness settle in their place. The warmth was gone, leaving behind a hollowness that ached in a way he hadn't thought possible.