Burn After You

13

Jace’s POV

The letter she left was short. Three lines. No signature. No scent. No softness.

You said wanting me was the only real thing you’ve ever done.

Then do it right.

Don’t want me halfway. Don’t come back unless you’re sure.

I read it on the floor of my dorm at three in the morning. I hadn’t even turned on the light. Just sat there with the envelope in my hands, reading her words over and over again until they burned.

She was right.

I wanted her halfway. I came close, then pulled back. Opened up, then slammed the door shut.

I’d made her a half-truth. And somehow, she still believed in the real parts of me.

I wasn’t sure I deserved that.

But I was sure of one thing now.

I didn’t want to be this anymore.

The next morning, I shaved for the first time in days. Got a haircut. Threw away three bottles of unopened cologne that had been gifted by Lena’s mother. Cleaned my desk. Folded the last crumpled letter. Labeled it Emma – The One I’ll Send When I’m Worth It and placed it in a locked drawer.

Then I called my father.

He answered like he always did: without warmth.

“Tell me you’re on your way to the airport.”

“I’m not going.”

Silence.

Then: “Excuse me?”

“I’m not going to Berlin. I’m not doing the Initiative. I’m not spending six months shadowing people I don’t respect to impress a man I don’t trust.”

“You’re throwing away a $200,000 mentorship for what? Some girl?”

“I’m throwing it away for myself.”

“You think this is about self-fulfillment?” he snapped. “You don’t get the luxury of self-discovery, Jace. You’re a Kingston. You move when the family moves. You win so your last name means something.”

“That’s just it. I don’t want it to mean your something anymore. I want it to mean mine.”

“If you hang up that phone, the trust ends. Tuition. Rent. Car. All of it.”

“I already dropped the keys off at the dealership. I don’t want your car. I don’t want your money.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“I already regret too much.”

I hung up.

And this time, it felt like freedom.

I found Lena in the student lounge.

She was wearing white, reading a finance article, sipping coffee like she hadn’t tried to emotionally blackmail me into being her future.

She didn’t look surprised to see me.

“You shaved.”

“I quit.”

She raised a brow. “The program?”

“The inheritance. The mentorship. The Kingston legacy.”

She set down her cup slowly. “Because of her?”

“Because of me,” I said, voice calm. “I’ve been living like I’m auditioning for your father’s approval. Like I’m already married to a future I never chose. I’m done.”

“You think this is romantic? You think walking away makes you a better man?”

“No. I think staying would’ve made me a worse one.”

She crossed her arms. “You’ll lose everything.”

“Not everything,” I said quietly. “Not if I can still make things right with her.”

Lena laughed once, bitter. “She’ll break your heart.”

“She already has,” I replied. “But I’m still standing. That’s more than I can say for whatever we were pretending to be.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Maybe. But at least it’ll be my regret.”

I turned to leave.

She called after me, “I hope she’s worth burning your life down.”

I didn’t stop walking.

“She is,” I said without looking back.

I didn’t go to class that day.

I went to Sofia instead.

I knew she was Emma’s best friend. Knew she was probably the one who’d told her not to come back.

She opened the door already scowling.

“I’m not giving you her address,” she said. “And no, I don’t want to hear your sad apology arc.”

“I’m not here to talk about Emma.”

That threw her.

“I’m here because I need to ask you something.”

She folded her arms. “Make it fast.”

I pulled out the letter. The first one. The one I never sent. The one Emma found.

“I didn’t put it in her mailbox,” I said. “But I think you did.”

Sofia didn’t respond.

I stepped closer. “You knew she needed to hear it. Even if I was too much of a coward to send it.”

Sofia’s eyes softened slightly. “You’re not a coward.”

“I was.”

“Why now?” she asked. “Why are you suddenly willing to throw it all away?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I want something that has nothing to do with legacy or power or pride. I want her. Not because she’s convenient. Because she’s the first thing that’s ever felt real.”

She studied me for a long moment.

Then she stepped aside.

“Go. But if you break her again….”

“I won’t.”

I turned to leave.

She stopped me. “Hey, Jace.”

I looked back.

“She cried when she read your letters.”

I nodded once. “So did I.”

That night, I sat in front of my window, looking at the stars.

They didn’t look like promises anymore.

They looked like choices.

And I was finally ready to make one.

I pulled out the letter I wrote her weeks ago. The one I’d never sent.

I’ve loved you in silence. In shadows. In stolen moments and in things I’ll never say out loud.

I don’t want to love you in secret anymore.

If you still want me, I’m yours.

If not… I’ll still be yours quietly.

I folded it. No envelope this time.

Just courage.

And legs that were finally ready to walk into something instead of away from it.

I slipped it under her door just after midnight.

And walked away with nothing but the truth beating in my chest.