CHAPTER 409: CHAPTER 409: NO, NO, NO...

The corridors of the Stone Palace were quiet that night — painfully quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but heavy, suffocating. The torches along the walls flickered weakly, their flames bending toward her as if even the fire pitied her.

Isabella’s footsteps crunched softly against the stone path, the faint echo carried by the cool night air. Each step felt heavier than the last, her heart thudding against her ribs as though trying to break free.

Her fingers clutched the edge of her soft-woven dress, bunching the fabric tightly in her fists as if it could hold her together. The thin material clung to her skin, still damp from her earlier tears, and the cold breeze slipped through it mercilessly. She hunched her shoulders slightly, not from the chill, but from the weight sitting in her chest — that aching, suffocating heaviness she couldn’t seem to shake.

She was heading toward Valen’s room — the room Ophelia now stayed in with him. The two had grown close, almost inseparable these days. Everyone could see it — the way Ophelia’s laughter softened Valen’s edges, the way his gaze lingered on her like she was the only light he could see in all that darkness. They hadn’t mated yet, but the bond between them was already undeniable.

That was Isabella’s goal — to tell Ophelia about her decision. She wouldn’t say where exactly she was going, only that she’d be leaving before dawn. Someone needed to know. Someone needed to notice her absence. And Ophelia... Ophelia was too sweet, too innocent. She worried about everyone, even the guards who stood in the rain too long.

It wasn’t in her to just disappear without saying a word. Not to Ophelia.

Her mind repeated it over and over again.

This is the right thing.

You need space.

You need air.

It sounded logical. Reasonable.

But her chest... her chest didn’t feel reasonable at all.

It felt like something was ripping apart inside her — quietly, slowly, mercilessly.

She took another step. Then another. And another.

And then, halfway down the hall, her body gave up before her mind did.

Her knees hit the cold earth with a dull thud, the impact sending a sharp ache up her legs. The hem of her dress dragged in the dirt, clinging to her knees as the night breeze swept past. For a heartbeat, she tried to breathe—just breathe—but the sound that escaped her wasn’t breath.

It was a sob.

Raw. Violent.

The kind that clawed up her throat and tore through the air before she could stop it.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her mouth, as if she could silence herself. But it didn’t stop. The tears came faster, harder, shaking her whole body.

She didn’t even understand it.

This was her choice. Her decision.

She had always promised herself — always — that she would never end up like her mother. Weak. Owned. Shattered by love.

She’d watched her mother die in pieces, every day, chained to a man who called his cruelty devotion. And Isabella had sworn, sworn on her own blood, that she would never let herself be owned.

Love was supposed to be a chain. And chains? She would rather die than wear them.

So why now—why now did it hurt like this?

Why did it feel like the world had tilted when Cyrus looked at her like that? Why did his eyes—those soft, pleading eyes—refuse to leave her mind?

Why did his voice still echo inside her like a ghost?

"Isabella..."

Just her name. Just that. And yet, it broke something in her.

Her heart twisted painfully, her breath catching in her throat as another sob ripped out of her.

"No," she whispered to no one, her voice hoarse. "No, no, no..."

She tried to shake her head, as if denying it could make the ache go away. But it didn’t.

The image of him — kneeling, trembling, crying — burned behind her eyelids. His voice when he said her name. The look on his face when she said those words that shattered him.

She’d told herself it was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel like she’d just destroyed something precious?

Her sobs grew louder, heavier, until she was gasping for air.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She wasn’t supposed to care.

She pressed her fists against her chest, as if she could stop her heart from breaking any further. "You idiot," she choked out between sobs, not sure if she was talking to herself or to him. "You stupid, stupid girl."

Her shoulders shook violently. Her tears hit the ground like rain, darkening the stone beneath her.

You promised yourself.

You promised you wouldn’t let anyone in.

So why does it hurt this much to let him go?

She squeezed her eyes shut, a choked sound escaping her. She didn’t even know if she was crying because she missed him or because she hated herself for it.

Maybe both.

Maybe that was what made it so unbearable.

The ache, the guilt, the regret—it all crashed over her at once, swallowing her whole.

She pressed her forehead to the floor, her hair falling over her face in wild, tangled waves. The palace that once felt so safe now felt too big. Too empty.

And then, a soft sound broke through her sobs.

A small, familiar sound.

Isabella lifted her head slowly, her breath still uneven, and saw a small shape padding toward her.

Glimora.

The little beast she had placed gently on the floor earlier was now staring at her. Its small legs tapped softly against the cold stone as it approached her, its wide, luminous eyes glistening with tears that mirrored her own.

It stopped right in front of her, staring up at her trembling form. Then, quietly, Glimora leaned forward and nuzzled her tiny nose against Isabella’s leg.

Another soft whimper escaped her — a sound that almost felt like a plea.

As if saying, Mama, please stop crying.

As if saying, It’ll be okay.

Tears welled again in Isabella’s eyes.

The sight of that tiny creature—crying with her—was too much.m