Chapter 97 CHAPTER 97
Lisa did not remember deciding to walk away.
One moment she was standing beneath the open sky of the temple, the goddess’s words still ringing in her bones, Celestine’s voice echoing with sacrifice and consequence. The next, her feet were moving on their own, carrying her down the stone steps, past the quiet guards, past the waiting car that was meant to take them back to Mooncrest.
She just kept walking.
The city swallowed her gently, like it always had. The familiar noise, the distant hum of life going on as if nothing had changed, as if gods had not just asked her to bleed quietly for balance. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t go back yet. Not to the palace. Not to councils and kings and choices that felt too heavy for her chest.
Behind her, a few steps back, Liam followed.
He didn’t call her name.
He didn’t rush to her side.
He didn’t try to stop her.
He simply stayed close enough that she wasn’t alone.
Lisa walked until the streets narrowed, until the buildings grew older and quieter, until her feet led her somewhere her mind had not planned but her heart remembered. She stopped in front of the familiar, tired apartment block, its paint peeling, its windows dull with neglect.
Her old home. The first place that ever felt like peace. Where she first had her first genuine smile.
The small place she had shared with Isabel. The place where she had been nobody. Where she had cried silently into pillows, where she had laughed over burnt food, where she had once believed survival was enough.
She didn’t hesitate.
Her hand moved automatically, lifting the worn mat by the door. The key was still there, hidden exactly where they had always left it. Seeing it made something inside her chest ache sharply.
Lisa unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Dust greeted her immediately, floating in the stale air like forgotten memories. The room was dim, untouched, frozen in time. The small couch was still there, threadbare and sagging. The chipped table. The empty shelves. The faint scent of detergent and old walls.
It felt smaller than she remembered.
Behind her, Liam stopped at the doorway.
He didn’t step in.
He leaned against the frame instead, arms crossed loosely, his presence steady and quiet. He understood without being told. This wasn’t a place she needed company in. It was a place she needed to remember herself in.
Lisa set her bag down slowly.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She found the old mop in the corner, the half-empty bottle of cleaner under the sink. She poured water, dipped the mop, and began to clean.
She scrubbed the counters.
She wiped the windows.
She swept the dust away.
It wasn’t about the dirt.
It was about control.
About doing something that made sense, something small and physical and uncomplicated. No gods. No bonds. No fate. Just movement. Just effort. Just the familiar rhythm of surviving another day.
Liam watched silently.
He saw the way her shoulders tightened with every stroke. The way her jaw clenched. The way she avoided thinking by staying busy. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush her.
He stayed.
Halfway across the floor, Lisa stopped.
She leaned the mop against her shoulder, resting her forehead briefly against the handle. Her breath hitched once.
Then again.
And then it broke.
A sob tore out of her chest without warning, raw and sharp. Her knees trembled, and she folded inward, gripping the mop as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Liam moved instantly.
He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him with firm gentleness. Lisa collapsed into his chest, the mop clattering to the floor as she clutched his shirt and cried.
She cried hard.
Not quietly.
Not neatly.
She sobbed like someone who had been holding herself together for too long.
Liam didn’t shush her.
He didn’t tell her to be strong.
He just held her.
One hand rested at the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. The other rubbed slow circles into her back. He murmured softly, words without pressure.
“I’ve got you.”
“You’re not alone.”
“We’ll face it together.”
Her tears soaked into his shirt as she gasped out broken words.
“I don’t understand,” she cried. “Why me? Why does everything always come back to me?”
Liam pulled back just enough to look at her face. He lifted his hands and gently wiped her tears with his thumbs, his touch careful, reverent.
“I don’t know why,” he said honestly. “But I know this - none of it changes who you are.”
She shook her head weakly. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be a symbol or a balance or a sacrifice.”
“I know,” he said softly. “And you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Her sobs slowly eased, exhaustion replacing the sharp pain. She leaned into him, her forehead resting against his chest, breathing shakily as he held her until the storm inside her quieted.
After a moment, he spoke again, gently.
“Do you want to take a walk?” he asked. “Just to clear your head.”
Lisa nodded faintly.
Before they left, Liam poured her a glass of water from the tap, handing it to her with quiet care.
“Drink,” he said. “You’ve cried enough to dry yourself out.”
Despite everything, a small, broken smile curved her lips. She drank, her hands trembling slightly, then handed the glass back.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He brushed her hair back gently. “Don’t thank me. I’m already doing what I should.I’ts my job to make you feel better, you understand?”
Lisa nodded as a wave of emotions caught her.
As they stepped outside together, Lisa could only thank the same goddess who she barely understood for sending Liam her way.
Liam locked the door behind them and slipped the key into his pocket. Lisa glanced back at the apartment one last time, at the place that had once held her whole world, the place where she was neither slave nor a princess. She was just a girl here.
Then she turned away.
She reached for Liam’s hand, and he laced his fingers with hers without hesitation.
For now, that was enough.