Chapter 18 18

Chapter 18 18
Aria's POV

Why does he get to do this to me?

Why does he get to walk in and out of my life like I’m some kind of decoration, some fragile toy he can pick up when it suits him and leave shattered on the floor the moment he’s bored? I used to think we had something real, something unshakable. Laughter in the quiet corners of the school library, the way his shoulder brushed mine when we walked together, the late-night conversations that felt like confessions without words. Did he even care, or was it all just… pity? Was I only ever safe in his attention because he felt sorry for me?

The thought made my chest ache. My hands shook, though I tried to steady them on the thin blanket covering the hotel bed. I hugged my knees tighter, pulling myself inward as if I could disappear and maybe, just maybe, he would finally notice. But he wouldn’t.

He was out there, probably thinking of someone else. Lyra.

That perfect, untouchable girl who had the audacity to show up and steal every glimmer of him away. I wanted to hate her, wanted to scream at her, but all I could do was sit here and feel the burn of my own helplessness.

The room felt impossibly still. The lights hummed faintly, and the shadows from the furniture stretched across the walls, mocking me with their quiet patience. My tears had begun to dry on my cheeks only to return again, tasting salty and bitter. The pain was like a living thing, crawling up my throat and twisting my heart in knots that I couldn’t untangle.

I reached for my phone. Fingers trembling, I called Kylie first. Her voice was soft, sympathetic, almost too gentle, like she was afraid I’d shatter completely if she spoke too harshly.

“I just… I can’t,” I sobbed. “I can’t believe he..he…” My voice cracked, words failing me entirely.

“Kylie,” I whispered, desperate, “why doesn’t he care? Why does it feel like Lyra..like she...”

“I know, Aria,” she said, her tone careful, like handling glass. “Move on. He isn’t worth it. Forget him. Forget all of it.”

The words felt like knives. Forget him? Forget everything we had? I slammed my phone down on the bed, the sound sharp enough to make me flinch.

I called Tasha next. Same words, same advice: move on. Stop wasting your heart. Stop waiting.

I cut the call before another word could come through. Anger flared inside me, fierce and uncontrollable. How dare they tell me to move on? How dare anyone suggest I let go when I could still feel him in my chest, in my thoughts, in every broken, hollow corner of my heart?

I stayed on the edge of the bed, silent and shaking, hoping he would appear anyway. Hoping he would walk through the door and explain, apologize, even lie just to make me feel something other than this hollow ache. But the minutes ticked by, and the clock moved toward midnight with agonizing slowness.

The shadows in the room deepened, stretching and curling across the carpet, the bed, the walls. My hands were cold, but my chest burned with grief and frustration. I couldn’t even summon the energy to cry anymore; tears were just part of me now, a second skin.

I got up, shoving off the blanket, and stumbled to the bathroom. The tiles were icy under my bare feet, a shock that made me catch my breath. I faced the mirror. My reflection looked unfamiliar. Pale, tear-streaked, hair a tangled mess across my cheeks. That miserable girl I had fought to leave behind was staring back at me.

I hated her. That version of me, weak and pitiful, the one who was desperate in love too easily, who trusted too much, who let someone like Jaxon slip through her fingers.

I balled my fists.

I hit the mirror. Hard.

Crack.

Pain lanced through my knuckles, sharp and hot, and I didn’t flinch. Blood welled up immediately, dripping down my fingers and onto the sink.

I pressed my hand to the glass, crimson smeared across the reflective surface.

The sting made me feel alive, more alive than I had in weeks.

I pressed my forehead against the cold tile, letting the pain anchor me.

The sorrow, the rage, the betrayal, it all fused into something raw and powerful.

I walked to the window next, still clutching my bleeding hands. The moon hung low, full, silver and watchful. Its light spilled across the city streets below, bathing everything in a pale, otherworldly glow. I pressed my hands against the glass, letting the cold mix with the fire inside me.

“Jaxon,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Jaxon…”

Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the floor. I didn’t care.

I let it mark the carpet, a trail of intent, a sign that I would not remain weak.

Not anymore.

I smiled, tears streaking my cheeks, red and silver in the moonlight.

I could feel it—the pulse of something inside me, fierce and undeniable. Magic. Power.

The blood of my ancestors thrummed in my veins, alive and eager.

I was the daughter of the blood moon witch.

Everything I had suffered, every tear and heartbreak, every pang of humiliation, it was fuel now.

Enzyme for what was coming.

I whispered his name again.

A soft chant my mother had taught me, letting the power coil through me, feel it respond to my desperation.

The tears, the pain, the anger, they were no longer just suffering. They were fuel
They were my strength.

Then, the door handle moved.

I froze.

My pulse throbbed in my ears.

I pressed my back against the wall with my eyes fixed on the handle.

The handle bent. Slowly and deliberately.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

My blood and magic and fury hummed beneath my skin.

I had been broken, but now, I was dangerous.

I was alive in a way I had never been before.

The door creaked under pressure.

I could feel the power pulsing, responding, wrapping around me, making me sharper, more focused.

My fingers twitched, my nails digging into the floor.

The blood on the carpet felt like a connection to something larger, something unstoppable.

The door clicked.

It began to open.

I smiled through my tears, a feral, broken smile.

The spell had started.

The pain had transformed into something more. Something inevitable.

And then the door fully opened.

Jaxon.

He just stood there like a zombie staring into my eyes while his was now soulless.

I held my breath, waiting for it all to unfold.