Hermoiny and the Mirror of Desire

"I love you, Martini." The words didn't just land — they detonated. In that split second my world collided into itself. Time stuttered. My breath caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat, because I thought I was _the one_. The one those words were meant for. The one he’d finally choose. But I was a fool. A fool blinded by him. Blinded by every lingering glance, every half-promise, every mixed signal I twisted into hope. I collected crumbs and called it a feast. Now I realize there was never a prophecy that said he’d love me back. Never a fate that promised we’d end up together. My prophecy was different. Crueler. I was meant to save him — to patch his broken edges just enough so he could go back to her. To Martini. So their love story could survive another chapter. I let out a laugh, sharp and hollow. The kind that hurts more than tears. "Damn," I whispered to no one. "I thought this was my story." The laugh broke again. "But in the end... I was just the bridge. The plot device they needed for their love story to last long and continue. I look around and continue walking to the path I choose alone.