Eternal Echoes

Chapter Sixty- Eight: A Morning of Reflection

Michaella's POV

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window, their melodies weaving through the early morning light. For the first time in what felt like ages, I woke up with a smile. Not a forced smile, the kind I used to wear like armour, but a genuine one that reached my eyes. It was a strange sensation, one I had missed deeply.

Slipping out of bed, I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. I went through my usual morning routine with a sense of calm—washing my face, brushing my teeth, and tying my hair up in a loose bun. The scent of fresh coffee filled the air as I brewed a pot, the familiar aroma grounding me in the present moment.

With a steaming mug of coffee in hand, I made my way to the cosy nook by the window, where the morning light spilled onto the floor in soft golden streaks, overlooking the brown leaves singling that autumn has come. I settled into my favourite chair, tucking my legs beneath me, and took a slow sip of my coffee. The warmth spread through me, matching the contentment in my chest.

As I stared out at the world slowly waking up, I began to reflect on the whirlwind of these past few months. It was like watching a movie reel of my life, each scene playing out in vivid detail.

There were the ups—the moments of joy, of success, of feeling like I was on the right path. My book, my podcast, my career—all of it had taken off in ways I had only dreamed of. I had met incredible people, attended literary events that felt like something out of a fantasy, and connected with authors I had admired for years. The speech I gave, the one that Colleen Hoover herself praised—it still felt surreal. And the possibility of a book signing event, a collaboration that could take my work to new heights, was something I never thought I'd achieve so soon.

But then there were the downs—the dark, heavy moments when I felt like I was drowning in my own sadness. The depression had been a relentless companion, dragging me down when I thought I couldn't sink any lower. The nights spent crying, clutching my cross, praying for the strength to move on from a love that had left me shattered. Gabrielle. His name still carried weight in my heart, like an anchor I couldn't quite let go of.

I thought about how it had felt when Gabrielle broke up with me, and disrespected me. The betrayal, the confusion, the heartbreak—it had all hit me like a tidal wave. I had fallen for him so deeply, so completely, and to see him let go, just like that... it nearly broke me. But even in the midst of that pain, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. He was still someone I loved, someone I cared for deeply, and that made it all the more difficult to move on.

Yet, here I was. I had gotten back on my feet, slowly but surely, with the help of my family and friends. I thought of Elijah, Matthew, Marian, Alan, Mia, Pamela—all of them had been my rocks, supporting me when I felt like I couldn't stand on my own. Their love, their presence, had been a lifeline, pulling me out of the darkness time and time again.

And then there was my family—my mom, my dad, Valerie, Andrew, and Ariana. They had seen me at my worst, had held me when I cried, had cheered me on when I needed encouragement. They were my foundation, the ones who reminded me of who I was when I started to lose myself.

As I sat there, I realized how far I had come. The depression hadn't won. The heartbreak hadn't defined me. I had written my story, I had shared my voice with the world, and I had found success in ways I never thought possible. I was proud of myself—truly, deeply proud.

But as much as I was proud, there was still that lingering ache, that part of me that wished I could share all of this with Gabrielle. I missed telling him about my achievements, missed seeing the pride in his eyes, missed the way he used to smile when he saw me succeed. I wondered if he knew—if he had seen my book on the shelves, if he had listened to my podcast, if he had heard about the events I had been a part of. Would he be proud of me? Would he regret his choices?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. It didn't matter anymore. I had to focus on the present, on the fact that for the first time in a long while, I was happy. Genuinely, truly happy. Not because of anyone else, but because of me. Because I had fought for this happiness, had clawed my way out of the darkness, had found light on the other side.

I took another sip of my coffee, savouring the moment, letting the warmth of it fill me. Today was a new day, and I was determined to embrace it, to continue moving forward, to keep writing my story. A story that was mine, and mine alone.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt ready for whatever came next.