The heart of an ice prince

Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Edge of Darkness**

Felix sat alone in his room, illuminated only by the faint glow of his bedside lamp. The darkness surrounding him felt like a weight, pressing in, tightening around his chest. Every passing moment seemed to echo the emptiness that had settled within him long ago. He'd spent so many nights like this—silent, hollow, and alone. But tonight, the silence felt unbearable.

He could still hear his parents' voices in his mind: harsh, demanding, cold. Every word, every expectation they had placed on him was like another brick in the wall surrounding him, keeping him isolated and confined. They didn't see him; they saw what they wanted him to be, and he'd spent so long trying to live up to that image. But he was exhausted—exhausted from pretending, from carrying the weight of everyone's expectations, and from hiding the pain he felt every single day.

As his gaze drifted to his desk, his eyes fell upon a small, sharp letter opener he often used to tear open unwanted letters from his parents, reminders of their control. Tonight, it seemed to beckon him, catching the dim light just enough to draw his attention. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he reached out, taking it in his hand, feeling the cool metal pressing against his palm. He let his thumb trail along its edge, the sharpness grounding him in a way that words couldn't.

Sitting there, staring at the letter opener in his hand, his mind raced back to everything that had brought him here. Every moment he'd tried to reach out, only to be met with rejection or misunderstanding. Every time he'd tried to share a piece of himself, only to have it dismissed as weakness. He thought about his parents—the people who were supposed to care the most but seemed to care only about what he represented, not who he was. The disappointment in their eyes every time he fell short of their impossible standards cut deeper than any blade ever could.

He took a shuddering breath, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling the pain and frustration well up, pressing against his chest like a weight he could no longer bear. He thought of the loneliness that had followed him for so long, the friends he'd lost, the relationships that had faded, and the times he'd been left feeling utterly alone. He could feel himself slipping, the strength he'd relied on crumbling beneath him.

But in that darkness, small, precious memories surfaced—the moments when someone had shown him kindness, fleeting glimpses of understanding and warmth that felt foreign in his otherwise cold world. He remembered times when he felt seen, even for a moment, by those rare people who didn't judge him for the mask he wore. Those memories brought a faint spark of hesitation, a reminder that maybe not everyone saw him as an image to shape or a trophy to show off.

Setting the letter opener down, he took another deep breath, feeling a slight relief, as if he'd just taken a step back from a ledge. For a heartbeat, he allowed himself to believe in a future where he could break free, where he could find his own path, separate from the expectations his parents held so tightly to. He thought, just maybe, that there was a life where he could be himself, unbound by the image he was supposed to uphold.

But then the cold reality returned, seeping back in like a dark fog. His parents' voices grew louder in his mind, drowning out that fragile sense of hope. They would never let him go, he realized; they would never allow him to be anything other than what they had decided for him. The weight of that realization was crushing, erasing the brief flicker of possibility he had felt only moments before. His fingers tightened around the letter opener once more, his breath shaky and uneven as despair settled over him like a shroud.

A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another. It was rare for him to cry, but tonight, he couldn't hold it in any longer. Every suppressed emotion, every hidden pain, every moment of feeling misunderstood and overlooked, finally broke free. And as he cried, he felt both the agony of his situation and a strange sense of release, as if he were finally acknowledging all the hurt he had kept locked away for so long.

With a trembling hand, he lifted the letter opener, holding it close, the cold metal pressing against his skin. For the first time, he allowed himself to voice the words he had kept silent all this time, barely whispering to the empty room.

**Felix:** "I'm sorry... I just can't keep pretending. I don't know who I am anymore."

The silence that followed his words was deafening, amplifying the depth of his despair. He felt a sudden sense of finality, as if his own voice had confirmed what he'd feared all along—that he was trapped, unable to break free from the chains that held him in place.

He took one last, shaky breath, and just as he brought the letter opener down, he heard a faint sound, almost like a whisper. It was a voice, gentle and kind, a memory surfacing in his mind, reminding him that there were still people who cared, who had seen him as he truly was. He paused, his grip loosening slightly, but the pain inside him roared louder, drowning out the memory as quickly as it had appeared.

With his last bit of strength, he whispered to the empty room, his voice weak but filled with all the emotion he had kept buried for so long.

**Felix:** "Maybe... maybe I'll find peace."

His vision blurred, darkness closing in around him as he slumped to the floor, letting go, surrendering to the weight of everything he had been carrying.

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**Chapter 21 Coming Soon**