The Contract

Chapter 136-The Redemption

PEARL'S P.O.V

The sun was a pale whisper behind the curtains, clawing to break through, but I wouldn’t let it. The room was wrapped in a hollow stillness, suffocating me like the weight of everything I’d been avoiding.

The tears wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t tell you why, not exactly—there were too many reasons to choose from, and yet none of them seemed to fit.

Today, I finally understood.

I’d overthought his words until they weren’t just words anymore. They were truths, jagged and raw, carving into me like they had always been waiting. He was right. He was right about everything.

I had sold my soul the day I signed that contract. He owned me now—every breath, every thought, every fleeting hope. And yet, here I was, curled up like a discarded thing, wishing for something I had no right to wish for.

My family hated me. That was the simplest truth of all. They tolerated me at best. At worst? They stayed away because I was a walking disaster, a storm they couldn’t survive.

My mother had disowned me—not once, but four times. Bella avoided me like the plague, trying to keep her precious husband happy. Everyone else? They were living their lives as if I never existed.

And why wouldn’t they? I wasn’t worth loving. I wasn’t even worth remembering.

The room was colder today, or maybe it was just me. The air pressed down on me, whispering all the things I already knew but didn’t want to hear. I was good at pushing people away. It was the only thing I was good at.

I stared at the ring on my finger, the diamond catching the faint light and throwing my reflection back at me. I hated it. I hated how it mocked me, how it showed me everything I didn’t want to see.

His words replayed in my mind, unrelenting, each syllable cutting deeper. His face had been like stone, cold and unfeeling. He’d meant every word.

So why did it hurt more than usual? Why did I feel like my chest was being ripped apart? Why wasn’t I angry? Where was the rage that always kept me afloat?

Instead, there was this emptiness, this gaping hole where my fury should’ve been. And I hated myself for it.

I slid the ring off my finger and held it up, the metal biting into my skin like it was alive. This isn’t real. The words echoed in my head like a mantra, over and over. This isn’t real. This was never real. It’s all a lie.

But it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt too raw, too suffocating to be anything but real.

He doesn’t care. He never cared. And he isn’t coming back.

I dropped the ring on the nightstand, the sound deafening in the quiet. Tears streaked down my face, burning like acid. I tried to sit up, tried to shake off the heaviness, but my body wouldn’t move.

I should be used to this. I am used to this. My mother hates me, my family doesn’t care, and the world has never been kind. I should be able to take this.

So why does it hurt like this?

Why does it feel like something vital has been ripped out of me? Why can’t I breathe?

Why did I falter when he said it? Why couldn’t I speak? Why did I feel fear for the first time in years?

Why did I hope he didn’t mean it?

I curled into myself, the ache in my chest spreading like wildfire. I wanted to scream, to break something, but all I could do was cry. I didn’t want to feel this way. I didn’t want to care.