The cold night air bit into my skin as I stood on the cliff's edge, the sea roaring below like a beast hungry for my despair. The moon hung heavy in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward me, as if urging me to step forward. I thought this matter would sink into oblivion, yet he couldn't restrain himself:
"Liza once saved my life when I was exiled from the palace. Heather pursued me relentlessly—it wasn't some scheme to win my trust. Liza was bribed by Heather later."
His voice had been low, almost pleading, as if the words themselves pained him. But they only fueled the fire in my chest. Was this his excuse? His pitiful resignation? My earlier words—"I know you don't love her"—now rang with cruel irony.
"So what are you saying?" I had snapped, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. "That you do love her?"
What was he defending? That he didn't not love her? Was this what it meant to have someone etched into your very bones?!
