Page 37 of The Darkest Knight

Eliana and Bianca have been here every day. They bring food I can’t eat, soft words I don’t know how to respond to, and hugs I can barely feel. I love them for it, even though I feel like a ghost in my own life.

Aunt Scarlett and I spend hours lying here in Mom’s bed, going through the family albums she loved so much. I flip through page after page of photos—me with ice cream dripping down my chin at the beach, us grinning under a Christmas tree, a hundred pictures of the same sunset from our vacation in Hawaii.

It’s hard to believe she’s gone.

I close the album, resting it against my chest, and stare at the ceiling.

I check my phone for more messages. New ones from Eliana and Bianca. I re-read Jett’s text again and set the phone aside.

I don’t know what to think about him anymore.

He’s cold. Ruthless. He cares more about deals and dollars than people. And yet I know that’s not entirely true. He came to the hospital. He held me when I was falling apart. I can still feel the warmth of his arms around me, steady and strong.

I remember his face when he looked at me—raw, as if seeing me in pain somehow hurt him too.

And that’s what confuses me most of all.

I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know what he wants, or what I want.

But I do know that I can’t keep living my life like this. I can’t keep being the person who puts his world together while mine crumbles into pieces.

I need to let go.

I owe it to my mom, and I owe it to myself.