Page 129 of Unclench Me Softly

He hesitates. Just a beat. Then he nods, slow and careful like he’s leaving a wounded animal alone in the wild. “Okay. We’ll be there.”

And when he’s gone, when the flap closes and the silence folds back in around me, I exhale.

Because if he’d stayed one second longer, if he’d crossed the space between us and touched me even once, I might have fallen apart into his hands and begged him not to go.

And I don’t get to do that.

Not today.

Today, I lead them through the labyrinth.

Today, I let them go.

When I head out, the path to the Lavender Labyrinth smells like endings.

Maybe it’s just the wind pushing through the rows of purple stalks, or maybe it’s me, walking toward the final ritual with a box of handcrafted grief tins and a heart that feels like it’s been cracked open and filled with moonlight and regret.

They’re already there when I arrive.

All five.

Standing in a loose arc beneath the prayer flag I hung this morning like a woman who isn’t absolutely unraveling in her soul corset.

They’re quiet, wearing the necklaces, and looking at me like I’m the one who’s supposed to have the answers.

So I do what I do best.

I make something up.

“Welcome,” I say, lifting my arms like a goddess who hasn’t cried over her own glitter pen in the last twenty-four hours. “To the final ritual. The Spiral of Surrender. The Labyrinth of Letting Go. The Path of Release. The… scented loop of masculine transcendence.”

Asher grins softly.

Jax raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Before you is a labyrinth,” I continue, gesturing to the narrow winding trail I laid out at 5 a.m. with quartz points, ribbon, and a possibly haunted bag of lavender mulch. “As you walk its path, you will be releasing a version of yourself. One that no longer serves you. One you’re ready to leave behind.”

My voice is too bright.

I know it. It echoes in my chest like a lie I’m trying to manifest into truth.

“This is your final offering,” I say. “You will walk in silence. With intention. You will place your leave-behind box in the center. And you will emerge lighter, freer, and hopefully not crying in the lavender, because that would mess up the mulch pattern and the bees are territorial.”

There’s a small laugh from someone, Jonah, maybe. Low. Soft.

But I press on. “Remember: you cannot be who you are becoming while still clinging to who you were. You must…”

“Bliss,” Jax says, gently.

I stop.

Not because he interrupted, but because of how he says it.

Not teasing. Not smirking. Just… soft. Concerned.

I look at him, and for a second I swear he’s about to say something that’ll undo me entirely. But I shake my head and smile too hard.

“Nope,” I say, voice pitched high and shiny. “Don’t you dare soft-intervene me, Jax Riot. You’ll ruin the ceremony.”

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