let future historians wonder
Violet stood before the fire, her heart a twisted mess of rage and sorrow. The letter in her hand trembled, the ink blurring as her vision swam with unshed tears. Halden’s words—his promises—were written so beautifully, so carefully. But now, every sentence, every line, felt like a betrayal. He’d made her believe in them, in *him*. And now she knew the truth: he never meant any of it.
Her breath hitched in her throat, a storm brewing inside her chest. How could he? After everything—after the way he’d stood by her side in battle, after the quiet moments they shared when the world seemed to pause—he’d betrayed her with someone else. Someone else.
The flames flickered higher, licking at the air as Violet tossed the letter into the fire. It curled and burned, the ink dissolving into nothingness. But the pain—oh, the pain—remained, raw and sharp, a wound she couldn’t heal.
Another letter—this one, too, a confession of affection, a note he’d slipped into her bag during a debrief. Her hand hovered over the fire, but her gaze was distant, lost in a memory that now felt like a cruel joke.
She grabbed the letter, crumpling it in her fist. *You don’t deserve to keep this. Not anymore.*
She watched the paper smolder, the edges blackening as the flames devoured it. The heat on her face mirrored the fire raging inside her, the urge to scream, to *destroy* everything he’d ever given her, every token of his love.
“Violet?” A familiar voice broke through the haze of her anger.
She turned, her gaze cold. It was Halden, standing in the doorway. His eyes wide with concern, lips parted like he was about to speak. But Violet didn’t need to hear it. His voice, his words—they meant nothing now.
“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” she spat, her voice brittle, a knife-edge of fury slicing through it. “I don’t need to hear why you did it. You don’t get to lie to me anymore.”
Halden took a step forward, his eyes pleading. “Violet, please—”
“Please?” she cut him off, her chest tightening as she fought the tears threatening to spill. “You think you can come here, *after everything*, and *please* me? After you *cheated* on me?”
Halden flinched, his gaze dropping, and for a split second, Violet saw the guilt flash in his eyes. But it was too late.
“You had me, Halden. You had my trust. My heart.” Her voice broke, but she steadied herself, forcing the words out. “And you threw it all away.”
His lips parted to speak again, but she was done.
“You’re not the man I thought you were,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She turned away from him, her back to him as the fire crackled louder, the heat now seeming to consume everything around her.
Halden stood frozen in the doorway, caught in the aftermath of his own mistakes. But Violet didn’t look back. She wouldn’t.
She had been burned once, but she would not let him burn her again.