The Last Goodbye
947 Words
Chapter 8 – The Last Goodbye
“Then I’d leave myself,” I muttered under my breath, slipping my jacket on with trembling hands. My heart was pounding so loud I could almost hear it echo in the quiet room. I just wanted to get away—to breathe, to exist somewhere that didn’t choke me with memories.
I grabbed the handle, ready to walk out, when his hand wrapped around my wrist. His grip wasn’t hard, but firm enough to stop me.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough with concern. A flicker of panic danced in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? Tell me, I’ll help you out.”
I stared at him—at those eyes that once looked kind, now filled with a pity I didn’t need. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My silence only made him rush his words.
“If it’s about money,” he continued softly, “your dad already met me two days ago. It’s already been sorted out.”
Money. That word again. I let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t funny at all. So that’s what they all thought. That I was desperate, greedy—marrying into their family for the wealth that glittered around them.
If only they knew how wrong they were.
I had enough money. Enough to last, enough to live. What I didn’t have was peace. But how would they ever understand that kind of emptiness—the kind that gnaws at your soul no matter how rich you are?
Tears burned in my eyes before I could stop them. They spilled down my cheeks as my voice cracked.
“Do you really think I need money? Do you really think I do all this for money? Marrying your brother, being a part of your family—was that all you thought it was about?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he said quickly, raising his hands slightly.
“Then what are you trying to say?” I snapped, the pain in my chest twisting into anger.
He hesitated, eyes darting away. “I heard you broke up with my brother yesterday.”
So that was it. That’s why he’d come. Not to comfort me. Not to understand. But to remind me of the chaos my life had become.
He took a small step closer. “Have you thought about what I told you?”
I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down. My voice came out steady, sharp as glass.
“I, Anna, would never in my life date or marry you. Not in this life, not in any. So there—there’s your answer.”
I turned and walked away, my heels striking the floor with quick, angry steps. My breath was shaky, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be gone.
Then I felt it—a warm touch from behind. Strong arms wrapped around me suddenly, pulling me against him. My body stiffened in shock. My heartbeat stumbled and stuttered, confusion rushing through me before disgust took over.
“Let go of me!” I struggled, trying to push him off, but he only held tighter, his breath ghosting dangerously near my ear.
“Why?” he whispered darkly. “Angry that you have to leave my brother because of me? It’s fine… you’ll get over him. But me?”
His tone shifted—low, possessive, poisonous. He leaned closer, and I could feel the smirk forming on his lips. “You are mine, Anna. Don’t even think about running away. I’ll find you wherever you go. And when I bring you back…” He paused, lips grazing my skin. “…you’ll remember who you belong to.”
Then, like a predator marking his prey, he bit down hard on my neck before letting go. I flinched, frozen between fury and fear, watching as he walked away—confident, cruel, and sure of his power.
When he was gone, a bitter laugh escaped me. A broken sound, soft and trembling. That was it. That was the moment everything inside me finally shattered.
I pulled my suitcase from the wardrobe, threw my clothes inside, and left. No goodbyes. No explanations. Just silence.
By the time the plane lifted into the night sky, my phone was gone—tossed into the trash at the airport. That was my old life, my old pain, my old mistakes. I was done.
Six months passed. Six months of quiet mornings, long hours at work, and finally breathing without fear. No one had found me. Not him, not his brother, not my past.
For the first time in years, I felt… free.
In those months, I built something new—became one of the top architects at the firm, earned recognition, promotions, respect. My salary quadrupled. My confidence returned. It wasn’t easy, but every night I reminded myself: I survived.
Everything was perfect—until that Saturday.
I was sketching a design at my desk when the doorbell rang. My apartment was small but bright, filled with the peace I had fought to earn. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
The bell rang again.
I stood, my pulse skipping as I walked to the door. When I opened it, the air left my lungs.
There he was.
James.
Smiling like someone who had just returned from a victorious war.
“Hi, Anna,” he said softly, eyes glinting with the same dark fire I thought I’d escaped. “It’s been a long time. How have you been?”
And in that moment, the air turned cold.
My freedom—everything I had run from—had found me again.
- Writer
