The sunlight bled gently through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. It should've been a peaceful morning.
But peace was the last thing Lysandra felt.
She sat on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, her face buried in her palms. Her chest felt tight. Her eyes were swollen from crying most of the night.
Sleep had been impossible. Not after what happened.
Not after he came.
Caveen.
The name alone made her body tremble—not with fear, but with betrayal. With yearning. With… shame.
The bite on her neck still throbbed, faintly glowing under her skin like a brand she couldn't erase.
She could feel it—the tether. The bond he rekindled without permission. The mark of possession only ancient vampires dared to use.
A part of her wanted to claw it off. To scream. To disappear.
But another part… the traitorous, bleeding part of her… wanted him to do it again.
> "If he kisses me again… I'll break."
Lysandra's whisper was barely audible, but it was true.
She could feel her resistance crumbling. The moment his lips touched hers last night—right before he left her trembling—her body betrayed her. Her heart had screamed for him.
If he stayed longer…
If he said even one word of apology…
She might have given in. Let him kiss her. Touch her. Destroy her.
All over again.
And it terrified her.
Because she didn't know if she still hated him… or loved him.
But she knew one thing—if she stayed here, if he came back, she wouldn't be strong enough next time.
"I can't let him find me again…" she whispered, rising to her feet slowly, wiping her eyes.
---
She Had to Leave.
She needed a new apartment.
Somewhere far.
It wasn't just about avoiding temptation. It was about survival.
She couldn't let herself hope again. Couldn't let the memories play tricks on her.
Because every time she remembered the way he used to hold her...
Every time she recalled his laughter, his warmth, the way he used to press his hand over her belly and whisper to their unborn child...
Her heart shattered anew.
And it wasn't fair.
Not when he was about to marry someone else.
---
Madeline.
The woman who stood beside Caveen during all the years Lysandra cried alone. The woman who held his hand when Lysandra was bleeding magic just to breathe.
Madeline, the human, who didn't need power or secrets to have Caveen's loyalty.
Maybe he didn't love her the way he once loved Lysandra.
But it didn't matter.
He chose her.
And Lysandra would not be the desperate ex-lover who begged to be noticed.
She had already sacrificed everything once—her magic, her womb, her child… her soul.
She wouldn't let him take her pride, too.
---
Mid-morning
Lysandra dialed a number from her witch contact list, hands shaking.
"Hello? Lira? It's me."
"Lysandra? Moonlight, is everything okay?"
"I need help. I need to move. Fast. Today if possible."
"…Are you in danger?"
Lysandra hesitated. "No. Just… a little change of neighborhood."
There was a pause on the other end, then a soft sigh.
"Come to the Hollow District. I know a place. Quiet, with garden in it."
"Perfect," Lysandra murmured, feeling something inside her loosen slightly—like she could breathe for the first time in weeks.
---
She Packed.
She didn't need much. Her books, a few clothes, her photos.
She stopped when her fingers touched a worn-out journal, buried beneath her drawer.
The pages were yellowed and soft, filled with sketches of wildflowers… and notes.
Her child's name.
The name she gave their baby before the ritual.
Before the sacrifice.
Tears blurred her vision.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, hugging the journal to her chest. "I cannot be with your father anymore."
---
By Noon, She Was Gone.
The apartment was empty.
The bed stripped.
The scent of lavender spells replaced by silence.
She left no forwarding address. No hint. No aura trail.
She locked the door one final time and handed the keys to her agent.
"Burn anything I left behind," she instructed.
Then she walked away—never looking back.