(Eloise's POV)
The moment my eyes opened, I knew.
The air smelled sterile, the faint hum of an overhead fan filled the silence, and the soft sheets beneath me were far too familiar. My old room. My reality.
I was home.
A choked sob escaped my lips as I shot up, my hands gripping the fabric of my blanket. No sword. No ink-stained fingers. No warmth of Cauis's touch.
I gasped, struggling to breathe as my chest tightened. My vision blurred with tears, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"No..." I whispered, shaking my head violently. "No, no, no, no—this isn't right."
My hands trembled as I touched my own skin, my arms, my face, as if making sure I was real. As if confirming that everything I had just experienced—the battles, the journey, him—was nothing but a dream.
But it wasn't.
I remembered his voice. The way he held me. The way he kissed me like I was his entire world.
And I had left him behind.
The tears came fast, unstoppable, my body shaking as sobs wracked through me.
I had fought so hard. I had tried to rewrite fate. But in the end, the story had taken me away from him, just like before.
I clutched my head, my breath hitching. I can't accept this. I can't—
My desk caught my eye. My notebook. My pen.
Shakily, I reached for it, flipping through the pages, desperate to find proof that he was still there. That everything hadn't just disappeared the moment I did.
But the ink was smudged. Faded. Some pages were blank. The story—the world I had created—was slipping from my grasp.
My vision blurred again, hot tears falling onto the pages.
"Cauis..." I whispered, gripping the pen so tightly my knuckles turned white.
I didn't care if this world was my reality.
Because without him, it didn't feel real at all.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks blurred into months.
Yet, no matter how much time passed, the ache in my chest never dulled.
I tried everything. I picked up my pen again, hoping—praying—that I could rewrite my way back to him.
But no matter how many times I dragged ink across the pages, no matter how desperately I tried to recreate the story, something was always missing.
At first, I thought I could fix it.
I wrote Cauis's name. I gave him the same smirk, the same sharp gaze that could see through my soul. I described his messy hair, the weight of his sword, the way he called my name with so much warmth.
But the moment my pen left the page, I knew it wasn't him.
The ink was hollow. The words were empty.
And the worst part?
I couldn't remember the sound of his voice anymore.
The realization shattered me.
I threw my pen across the room, my breath hitching. My hands shook as I clutched my head, willing myself to remember. His voice. His warmth. His touch.
But the harder I tried, the more it slipped away. Like sand between my fingers. Like a dream I was waking up from too fast.
I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as tears threatened to spill.
This world—it wasn't enough anymore.
The bookshelves in my room felt suffocating. The quiet streets outside my window felt lifeless. Even my own reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger.
I used to love stories. Used to find comfort in them.
But now?
Now, all they did was remind me of what I had lost.
Cauis.
My heart clenched painfully at the name.
I missed him. More than anything.
But no matter how much I wrote, no matter how much I tried to bring him back...
The pages would never be enough.
——