I spent a few days in the hospital, and Emmett didn’t leave my side the entire time.

On the day I was discharged, he looked at my thin, pale face, a flicker of concern flashing through his eyes.

“Once you're back home, Claire, you really need to start taking care of yourself. You’ve lost so much weight, there’s hardly anything left of you.”

I picked up my luggage, my expression calm and unreadable.

“There’s no need. I feel fine now—better than I ever have.”

His brows knit slightly at my words. Something about my tone unsettled him.

He glanced at me, as if searching for an answer I wouldn’t give.

“You call this fine? You look like a gust of wind could carry you away. I even asked Carole to teach me how to make beef stew.

“I’ll cook it for you every day until you're glowing and healthy again.”

I turned away, avoiding his eyes.

“There is no ‘every day’ anymore. Not for us,” I said softly.

After I returned home, I got a call from Uncle Franklin.

“Claire, I had the villa by the creek cleaned top to bottom, and even had tulips planted in the garden—your favorites. So, when are you returning to Brighton Reach? You’re not lying to me, are you?”

Hearing his voice brought a warm smile to my face for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Of course not! I’ve already booked a ticket for 3 PM tomorrow.”

Before the words had fully left my lips, the door swung open.

Quickly, I ended the call and looked up just as Emmett walked in.

He’d been in the bathroom and had overheard my laugh, rare as it had become.

Curiosity tugged at him.

Drying his hair with a towel, he asked casually, “A ticket? Where are you going?”

Brighton Reach, I answered silently.

But my expression remained still, my tone as even as ever.

“It’s nothing. Not important.”

Emmett didn’t think much of it.

He casually loosened the belt of his black bathrobe, his voice relaxed and careless.

“Were you just talking to Franklin?”

I gave a quiet hum in response and turned to head toward the balcony, but he caught my wrist.

With a gentle tug, I stumbled into his embrace.

His warm breath brushed my cheek, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

He held me, leaning in as if to kiss me, but I turned away, offering an excuse—something about having to go to school early tomorrow to collect my diploma.

Later that night, while Emmett slept soundly beside me, I carefully reached for his phone.

In one of his group chats, his friends were actively plotting my humiliation.

[Hey Emmett, isn’t Claire graduating tomorrow? Weren’t you going to release her photos that day? Why haven’t you sent them yet?]

[Wonder if that goody-two-shoes has a body to match. Can’t wait!]

[C’mon, Emmett, give us a preview. Let us enjoy a little something first.]

[Yeah, man! Stop holding out. Send them already!]

Sweat gathered in my palms. I exited the group chat and opened his photo gallery.

One by one, I deleted each and every compromising photo.

In that moment, it felt as though I had finally laid down a burden I had been carrying far too long.

The next morning, I packed my bags in silence, ready to leave.

Emmett happened to wake just as I stood in the entryway. Still groggy, he blinked in confusion.

“Babe, it’s so early—where are you going?”

“I’m picking up Uncle Franklin,” I replied calmly.

His eyes drifted to the suitcase by my side, a trace of doubt flickering across his face.

“If you’re just picking up Franklin… What's with the suitcase?”

“These are some gifts from Silverbridge,” I answered, unfazed.

“I’m bringing them back for him.”

He didn’t press further. Instead, he got up and reached for my arm.

“Wait for me. I’ll go with you.”

I gently shook my head.

“No need. Let’s wait until after graduation to talk about us. I don’t want to upset Uncle Franklin right now if he sees you.

“I’ll go alone. You can just meet me at school later this afternoon.”

Emmett paused as if weighing the thought.

Eventually, he gave a small, understanding smile.

“Alright. Once you pick him up, come straight to campus. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I nodded with a smile and closed the door behind me.

The place I had lived in for three years was now spotless—erased of every trace of me.

Just the way I wanted it.

I told myself this was right.

With my suitcase in hand, I took one final look at the apartment.

Then I turned and walked away, never once looking back.

Goodbye, Emmett.