Chapter 81 Burnt Letters
Nova's Perspective
I stretch out on the couch, barely holding back a yawn as I pull the blanket tighter around myself.
The house is quiet. Too quiet.
Another night where Jax isn’t home and if I’m being honest, I don’t mind it.
Lately, the silence feels easier than trying to pretend everything between us is okay.
Because whatever we used to be… it’s slipping.
Maybe it already has.
I’ve even started looking at places of my own. Somewhere small. Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere that doesn’t feel so heavy all the time.
My eyes drifts to the fireplace.The fire has long since gone out, leaving behind nothing but grey ash and cold air. I rub my arms slightly, feeling the chill creep in.
I should light it.
Especially if I’m planning to fall asleep out here again.
With a quiet sigh, I set my sketch papers aside and slide off the couch, moving toward the hearth. I crouch down, placing fresh kindling carefully over the old ashes.
Then I reach for a few old newspapers nearby, figuring they’ll help catch the flame. I try not to look too closely at them.
Lately, every headline seems to carry Cassain’s name. His face. His life. It’s exhausting.
But as I move to tear one, something else catches my eye.
Burnt paper.
Not just ash, but pieces. Blackened, curled fragments that that look thicker than newspaper.
Frowning, I pick one up gently. It’s rough on my fingers.. And when I turn it over, my breath catches.
An handwriting.
Familiar handwriting.
My heart starts racing as I gather a few more pieces, spreading them across my palm. Most of the words are gone, eaten away by the fire… but a few still remain.
“…back to me…”
“…need you Nova…”
“…I keep wondering if…”
My chest tightens painfully.
No…
No, no, no—
I drop the pieces, then immediately start digging through the ashes with shaking hands. I don’t care about the soot smearing my skin or the mess staining my clothes.
I just keep searching. There has to be more.
But everything is ruined.
Until I find one piece, slightly larger than the rest.
The edges are blackened, fragile, barely holding together.
But in the center..... A name.
Cassain.
His handwriting.
A broken sound escapes my throat before I can stop it.
This… this was a letter, a letter meant for me.
One I never saw. One I never got the chance to read.
And now… I never will.
My vision blurs as tears spill over, falling onto the already ruined paper in my hands.
He wrote to me. He tried. And I never knew.
Footsteps crunch against the gravel outside, snapping me back to reality.
Jax.
Panic rushes through me.
Quickly, I shove the piece into my pocket and push myself up, wiping at my face in a rush. My hands are still dirty, my chest still heaving, but I try to steady myself before the door opens.
“You’re home,” I say, but my voice cracks anyway.
Jax barely looks at me as he steps inside, kicking off his boots like it’s any other night.
I tuck my hands behind my back, hiding the ash, forcing a small smile that doesn’t feel real.
He burned it.
He burned Cassain’s letters.
“I got back earlier than I thought,” he mutters, shrugging off his coat before finally glancing in my direction. His eyes flick over me briefly.
“I need to get ready.”
I frown slightly. “For what?”
“The event tonight,” Jax says, like it should be obvious. “My mother’s announcing the expansion.”
His tone is harsh and snappy, like every word I say is already annoying him.
Lately, that’s how he talks to me. Like I’m beneath him.
“You didn’t tell me about it,” I say carefully.
“Well, I just did,” he snaps, finally looking at me properly. His gaze dropping to my hands, my clothes. “Why are you covered in ash?”
“I was cleaning the fireplace,” I answer quickly. “I was actually hoping to stay in tonight. I’ve got a dress to finish, the stitching is really detailed.”
It’s not even a lie, but it doesn’t matter.
“I don’t care, Nova,” he says, brushing past me like I’m in his way.
“But—”
“You’re coming,” he cuts in sharply. “I’m not showing up alone.”
My chest tightens.
“I’ve had a long day,” he adds, irritation clear in his voice. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
I swallow the frustration rising in my throat.
I’ve learned the hard way that arguing only makes things worse. It turns into shouting. Then silence. Days of it.
So I try again—softer this time.
“If I’m being honest… I don’t like going to those events,” I say. “People keep asking about the engagement. It’s—”
“Then say yes,” he interrupts, adjusting his reflection in the mirror like this conversation barely matters. “And they’ll stop asking.”
My stomach drops. “I can’t,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
Not ever, if I’m being honest with myself. But I don’t say that out loud.
I’m still figuring out how to leave. I just need time. A plan. A way out that doesn’t explode everything.
He turns to look at me fully now.
“I need a wife,” he says flatly. “Someone to stand beside me when I take over the business. We’re in love. So what’s the issue?”
Love.
The word feels wrong coming from him.
Because I know what love is supposed to feel like.
And this…
This isn’t it.
Before I can stop myself, the words spill out.
“Maybe your mother is pushing you because she doesn’t actually want you to take over.”
The moment the sentence leaves my mouth, I regret it.
Silence fills the room.
Heavy. Sharp.
Jax goes still… then slowly turns his head toward me.
“What did you just say?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
I press my lips together, shaking my head slightly.
I shouldn’t have said anything. We just need space. That’s all.
But he steps toward me.
Slowly. Deliberately.
My heart starts pounding.
He keeps coming until he’s right in front of me, very close. I can feel his breath against my face.
My pulse spikes.
“Jax…” I whisper, stepping back. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
He follows.
“Oh, am I?” he asks, tilting his head . “You think I’m a failure, don’t you?”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I don’t—”
He leans down so we’re eye level, our faces inches apart.
“Say it, Tell me what you really think.” He whispers dangerously.
My throat tightens. I can’t speak.
For the first time since I’ve known him… I’m scared.
He’s yelled before. Made me feel small. Made me feel like I was the problem.
But this....
This feels different.
Like if I say the wrong thing… he will actually hit me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper instead, lowering my eyes.
It’s the safest thing I can say.
He stares at me for a moment longer before finally stepping back.
“Go get dressed,” he says coldly. “I’m tired of looking at you like that.”
Air rushes back into my lungs as soon as there’s space between us.
I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak.
As he turns away, I stand there, shaking slightly.
My chest rises and falls unevenly.
I can’t stay here.
I need to leave.