12. ONCE AGAIN, LET GO...

Caelan, standing by the gate, felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight of Alina’s distress. The urge to reach out, to explain, to make things right, warred with the fear of causing her more pain. He took a tentative step forward, his voice softer this time. "Alina… why are you here?"

Alina stopped, her back still turned to him, her shoulders tense. If he didn't want her presence, then it's fine. But, why did the smallest gesture hurt her? She questioned herself and cursed him mentally, rude stranger!

She took a moment to steady herself before speaking, her voice trembling slightly, on the verge of breaking. "I… I need your help. With some books… for the event planning. Mrs. Lawrence told me you might have what I need. Jace is still at the office, and… I didn’t know where else to go."

The words hung in the air between them, laden with unspoken emotions. Caelan’s mind raced, his heart aching at the vulnerability in her voice. She hadn’t come here by choice—she had been left with no other option. And yet, he had almost driven her away with his own unresolved pain.

He swallowed hard, pushing down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "Come inside," he said quietly, his voice gentler now, though the tension in his chest remained. "I’ll help you with whatever you need."

Alina hesitated, the urge to run still strong, but there was something in Caelan’s tone that gave her pause. She turned slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. His expression had softened, the frown replaced by a look of regret, maybe even guilt.

Mrs. Lawrence gave her a reassuring nod, gently nudging her forward. "It’ll be alright, dear. You can trust him."

With a deep breath, Alina nodded, though the fear still lingered in her heart. She followed Mrs. Lawrence through the gate, her steps hesitant and unsure. Caelan stepped aside, allowing them to enter the mansion, his gaze never leaving Alina’s face.

As they walked inside, the grand foyer seemed to swallow them in its vastness, the opulence of the mansion almost overwhelming. Alina glanced around, her nervousness growing with each passing moment. This place, so unfamiliar and imposing, only served to remind her of how out of place she felt, how much she didn’t belong here.

Caelan led them to the study, the room bathed in the soft glow of a fire that crackled in the hearth. The warmth of the flames did little to ease the chill in Alina’s heart, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She needed these books, needed to make the event a success, if only to prove to herself that she could do something right.

"Tell me what you need," Caelan said as he gestured for her to sit, his voice measured and controlled, though his mind was anything but.

Alina hesitated before taking a seat, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "I… I’m looking for some old books on event planning and literature. Jace mentioned you might have a collection… and Mrs. Lawrence confirmed it."

Caelan nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on her as she spoke. The mention of Jace brought a pang of jealousy, who was Jace? But he pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the present. "I have a few that might be useful. Let me get them for you."

He stood and walked over to a large bookshelf that lined the far wall of the study. As he began to pull out several volumes, his mind wandered to the last time he had seen Alina—truly seen her. The memories of their last moments together before everything had changed played in his mind like a broken record, each one more painful than the last.

As he placed the books on the desk in front of Alina, he caught a glimpse of her expression—one of quiet determination, but also of deep-seated hurt. It was a look that mirrored his own, a reflection of the pain they both carried, though neither of them dared to speak of it.

"These should help," he said, his voice low as he handed the books to her. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

Alina nodded, her fingers brushing against his as she took the books, the brief contact sending a shiver down her spine. She quickly pulled her hand back, her heart pounding in her chest. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Mrs. Lawrence, sensing the tension between them, gave a gentle smile. "It will be fine," she said softly, her words meant as much for herself as for them.

Caelan’s gaze lingered on Alina for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the weight of Mrs. Lawrence’s words settling heavily on him. Could they ever find their way back to each other, or were they doomed to be haunted by the ghosts of their past? Alina doesn't even remember her past life. How could ut be fine?

As Alina gathered the books and prepared to leave, Caelan felt a surge of emotion rise within him. He wanted to say something, anything that might bridge the chasm that had formed between them.

But the words caught in his throat, his voice unable to convey the torrent of emotions that swirled within him. He watched as Alina moved toward the door, her steps tentative, as if she were unsure whether she was welcome in his presence or whether she should simply flee again.

Mrs. Lawrence lingered for a moment, her eyes darting between them, sensing the unresolved tension that hung in the air. "Take care, dear," she said softly to Alina, offering her a gentle pat on the back before turning to Caelan. "And you, too, Caelan. Remember what I said."

Caelan gave a curt nod, his eyes fixed on Alina as she stood at the threshold, clutching the books to her chest like a shield. His heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, of missed opportunities, and of the distance that had grown between them. The old Alina, the one who had loved him with a fiery passion, was gone, and in her place was someone who looked like her, sounded like her, but was still so different.

As Mrs. Lawrence stepped out into the night, Caelan finally found his voice. "Alina…" He spoke her name softly, almost like a prayer, hoping it would anchor her, keep her from slipping away entirely.

She paused, her back still turned to him, waiting for the rest of his sentence. But when nothing more came, she sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of all the things they couldn’t say. "It’s okay, Caelan," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "You don’t owe me anything."

Her words, though simple, cut through him like a knife. The distance between them felt insurmountable, a chasm too wide to bridge with mere words. He wanted to reach out, to pull her back, to explain that his reaction wasn’t out of disdain but out of fear—fear of losing her again, fear of seeing his past slip through his fingers once more.

But he did nothing.

Instead, he watched as she left, the door closing behind her with a soft click that echoed through the empty mansion. The silence that followed was deafening, a stark reminder of how alone he truly was. The fire in the hearth flickered, casting long shadows across the room as Caelan stood there, his heart heavy with regret.

He had let her go. Again.

Caelan sank back into the chair by the fire, his gaze unfocused as he stared into the flames. The books she had taken with her were nothing more than a pretext, a fragile excuse for her presence in his life, and now they were gone—along with any chance he had to make things right.

But even as despair threatened to consume him, a small, stubborn spark of hope flickered in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. Perhaps there was still time—time to find a way back to each other, to reclaim what they had lost.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking, a futile attempt to stave off the crushing loneliness that gnawed at his soul.

The hours ticked by, the fire slowly dying down to embers, but Caelan remained where he was, lost in a sea of memories and regrets. He had faced countless challenges in his long life, but nothing compared to the pain of seeing Alina walk away, knowing that the only person who could heal the wounds in his heart was the one who had just left him behind.

And as the night deepened, Caelan made a silent vow to himself. He wouldn’t let this be the end. He had lost Alina once, and he couldn’t bear to lose her again—not like this.

But the question that lingered in his mind, haunting him like a ghost, was whether she would ever let him back into her life—or whether she would always see him as a shadow of the past, a reminder of what could never be.