You Hated Me, I Left Forever

Chapter 8

Cressida did not answer immediately. She frowned, a strange, restless unease rising unbidden within her chest.

Then her gaze drifted, and she found Draven standing in the hallway, watching her. Their eyes met. Her heart gave a strange, sudden lurch.

On impulse, she ended the call.

She faced him, her tone sharp and defensive. "Standing there listening to everything, are you?"

Draven's expression was calm, his voice steady. "I did not mean to eavesdrop. But were you not going to tell me this anyway?"

The words hung in the air. Silence fell between them, heavy and cold.

Cressida pressed her lips together. After a long moment, she spoke stiffly.

"The Sanctuary Retreat offers a course of spiritual guidance and reflection. They teach clarity of mind to help one see things truly, to straighten twisted thoughts, and to cast away inner darkness. I shall drive you there tomorrow."

So this was what it all came to. In their eyes, the love he had cherished and guarded faithfully year after year was nothing more than proof that he was broken, that his mind was warped.

He drew a quiet breath and nodded faintly. "Very well."

These final days… anywhere would be better than remaining in this house that had never truly been his. He would rather go somewhere far away from all of them.

Cressida had braced herself for shouting, for anger, for a scene. To hear him agree so calmly… left her momentarily stunned.

As he turned to walk away, she called out almost instinctively, "Where are you going?"

"To pack my things," Draven replied without looking back. "Did you not say you would leave for the Sanctuary tomorrow?"

With those words, he walked steadily to his room and closed the door.

*****

The next morning.

Draven carried a cardboard box down the stairs. Every trace of his presence had been stripped away from the villa, every photograph, every small possession, every mark he had ever made.

All that remained was this single box, holding everything that had ever mattered to him.

Cressida saw him holding it. Something stirred within her, and she opened her lips as if to speak. But Draven walked past her without pausing.

She hesitated, then hurried after him, speaking softly, almost gently. "Rest well there. The day after tomorrow is your birthday. I shall come and take you home."

Draven's eyelashes fluttered faintly. He had almost forgotten that the day after tomorrow would be his twenty‑sixth birthday.

A bitter taste rose in his throat. How cruelly fitting.

The day that was meant to be his birthday… was also the very last day he would walk upon this earth.

He was about to tell her not to bother when Zoren came rushing toward them, looking breathless and urgent. "Cressida! I am running late for filming! Could you drive me to the set?"

Before Cressida could reply, Draven spoke quietly, "Take him. I shall make my own way there."

He set the box he had been carrying back down from the car.

"Draven, surely you don't need to carry so many things to a quiet retreat?" Zoren reached out, pretending to help, and the box slipped from his grasp.

Letters spilled across the driveway, each envelope marked clearly:

To Cressida — Private.

And beneath them lay their wedding photographs, scattered across the stones.

Zoren laughed, as though he found it all terribly charming. "Cressida, look at this! Even going away to find peace, he brings nothing but letters written for you and photographs of the two of you. Truly… his heart holds nothing but you. He loves you beyond all reason."

Had this been any other day, Cressida would have turned cold and angry at such words.

Today, however… She remained strangely calm. She stood watching Draven as he knelt to gather them up, and slowly that faint, uneasy feeling in her chest faded away.

A faint, cold smile touched her lips. "Let him do as he pleases."

She opened the car door for Zoren, got in beside him, and the vehicle pulled away.

She did not glance back at Draven even once.

*****

One day later.

It was his birthday, the last day of his life.

He waited from the first light of dawn until the sun dipped below the horizon. Cressida never came.

Then his phone buzzed. A news notification appeared on the screen:

BREAKING: Zoren Corwyn, Lead Actor of Moonlight Across the Void, Injured on Set! Cressida Fairmoor Rushes Him by Helicopter to Coastal City for Urgent Care!

Draven read the words. He had sworn his heart would never stir again, yet it gave a sharp, painful thud.

It was exactly as he had known it would be. Year after year, on his birthday alone…

Zoren would suddenly fall ill, or meet with an accident, or require urgent care.

He could not remember how many birthdays he had spent entirely alone. No flowers. No family. No friends. No one who loved him by his side.

He called her. The phone rang twice before she answered.

Cressida's voice came through, sharp and impatient. "Zoren is hurt. I cannot come today. I shall visit you tomorrow, and we shall celebrate your birthday then."

"Cressida… I—" He tried to speak, but before he could finish, his mother's voice cut across the line, sharp with condemnation.

"Your brother lies injured! And instead of coming to him, you think only of your birthday? Have you no conscience at all?!"

Then the line went dead.

Draven stared at the phone in his hand. And then, slowly, he smiled. It was a faint, hollow smile.

He realized then that when you truly stop expecting anything at all… the hurt no longer has the power to reach you.

He did not call again. He did not go to them. He simply typed out the words he had never gotten to say, sent them, and set the phone aside.

Draven: Cressida, there is a gift for you upon the desk in the study. From now on, we're both free.

He walked over to the great stone hearth at the Sanctuary.

One by one, he took every letter, every photograph, every gift he had ever given and had returned to him, and cast them into the roaring fire.

The very last thing he held was the silver locket his parents had given him as a child, engraved with the words blessing: May our son live long, safe, and full of joy.

He seemed to hear their voices again, soft and loving, whispering the same wish to him on every birthday of his childhood.

Tears blurred his vision as he kissed the locket once and laid it gently into the flames.

To have once been loved… was enough. It made this whole, fleeting life worth having lived.

Then he walked before the great statue of the Divine One.

He sank slowly to his knees, pressed his palms together, and spoke his final prayer, soft and clear in the quiet hall.

"I, Draven Corwyn, have been granted a brief return to this world by the grace of Heaven. Now all my attachments are severed. My heart is at peace. I depart now, to be reborn no more."

Light seemed to gather above him, soft, golden, and holy.

And the very last ray of the setting sun fell upon him, wrapping around his form as he began to fade, turning luminous and transparent.

He smiled, a gentle, peaceful smile, and whispered to himself, as if greeting a child yet to be born:

"Happy birthday, little one. May your next life be happy."

And then he was gone. His presence faded completely from the world of men.

But upon the stone floor, the phone he had set down suddenly lit up.

It began to buzz, again, and again, and again…