We are not going back

Chapter sixty

[So, I failed maths. I will soon be entering my villian era. Forgive me for I will sin, but do not despair- for even in the darkest of times- light will always shine through.]

I slammed the door behind me as I stormed into the house. My pulse was racing, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from my chest. The whole day had been a nightmare- a twisted, relentless series of betrayals and failures, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

My eyes locked on the wine cabinet in the corner of the room. It stood there, mocking me with the gleaming bottles of poison that had haunted my life for so long. Without a second thought, I yanked open the door, grabbed one of the bottles, and twisted the cork out. The bitter smell hit me immediately, and for a moment, I just stared at the dark liquid, feeling the memories flood back- nights spent drowning in it, hiding from my pain, from Olivia, from everything.

“You did this to me,” I muttered under my breath, blaming the alcohol for all the mistakes, for every failure, for everything that had gone wrong. “You ruined me.”

I poured the wine into the sink, watching it swirl down the drain like it was draining the life out of me. But then something inside me snapped. The rage I’d been holding back all day surged to the surface. I gripped the bottle tighter, then, with a scream, I hurled it to the floor. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering across the tiles.

Another bottle. Smash.

Another. Smash.

I didn’t stop until the floor was covered in broken glass and the sharp smell of wine filled the air. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling. My hand slipped on one of the jagged edges, and before I knew it, I felt a sharp pain rip through my palm. Blood spilled from the cut, pooling on the floor and mixing with the wine. But I didn’t care. I just stared at it, numb. The pain didn’t register. Nothing did.

I heard the front door open. Kamala rushed in, her eyes wide with panic when she saw me standing there, blood dripping from my hand, surrounded by broken glass and wine.

“Eleonora!” she gasped, running over to me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch as she grabbed my hand, her fingers already fumbling to clean the wound. “You’re bleeding, Jesus Christ, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I replied, my voice flat and hollow. Kamala’s hands worked quickly, dabbing at the cut, but I barely felt it. My mind was somewhere else, spinning out of control. “I wasn’t thinking, Kamala. That’s the fucking problem. I never think.”

She pressed a cloth against my hand, trying to stop the bleeding, but I looked past her, staring blankly at the mess I’d made. “Why do you even love me?” I asked, my voice devoid of emotion. The question came out of nowhere, but I didn’t care. I needed to know. “Why? Why the hell do you love me?”

Kamala paused, her eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at me, her lips pressed together in thought. Then she spoke, her voice steady, deliberate.

“We are not soulmates, Eleonora,” she said softly, but there was a fire in her words. “This is not divine intervention. And this is most certainly not chance.”

I blinked, taken aback by the intensity of her words. She didn’t stop.

“I willed this,” she continued, her voice firm. “I knit the threads of fate myself until I spelled your name. I love you intentionally. I love you with every bit of conscience I was born with.”

A single tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I felt the warmth of it slide down my skin. Kamala’s words pierced through the fog in my mind, cutting straight to my core.