Unhinged

Prologue

I used to think waterfalls sounded romantic. Dramatic. Healing.Like the universe trying to wash something clean.

Tonight, they sound like my insides unraveling.

I stand on the edge of the skybridge with the wind brushing my face and the cliffs breathing quietly below me. The valley is a dark ocean of shadows and silver light. The waterfalls glow under the night fixtures we installed weeks ago, shifting from soft white to blue to a hopeful shade of gold.

I wrap my arms around myself, pretending it is because of the cold. Pretending I am not shaking.

People call Madanunan magical. They say the mountain reveals what you want most. No one warned me it can reveal what you fear too. No one warned me it can break you in ways you did not prepare for.

No one warned me he could break me.

I close my eyes, and the water roars harder, like it has opinions about my suffering. Maybe it does. Maybe it knows I am the kind of person who hides pain behind glitter and jokes. The girl who sparkles her way through storms because she does not know how to fall apart quietly. The girl who survives by pretending everything is fine.

And for the first time in a long time, I am not fine.

I lean on the railing, letting the mist land on my cheeks. It feels like the mountain is trying to give me a small mercy. I whisper into the night, “Will this ever stop hurting”

The sound disappears into the valley. Good. I do not want an answer. I do not think I am ready for one. I do not know what hurts more. The things he said or the things he refused to say. The way he looked at me or the way he looked away. The fact that he mattered or the fact that he still does.

I press my forehead against the cool metal rail and breathe in pine and distant rain. I hoped coming up here would make me feel stronger. I thought the mountains would remind me of what I am. Capable. Ambitious. Unstoppable.

Tonight, the mountains feel too big and I feel too small.

Maybe this is what heartbreak really is. Not the dramatic collapse or the noisy crying people expect. Maybe it is quieter. Maybe it is this sudden hollow feeling, like someone scooped out the center of me and left the rest standing.

The waterfalls keep crashing, relentless and powerful.

Maybe that is the point.

Maybe I will not stop hurting.Maybe I will learn how to breathe around the pain instead.

I lift my head and look at the cascades shining in the moonlight. They fall and fall, breaking and reshaping themselves without ever truly ending.

“Fine,” I whisper. “Then I will not end either.”

For the first time tonight, I almost believe myself.