Page 91 of Unclench Me Softly

Jax lets out a low whistle.

Asher gasps. “Oh wow, that’s… that’s very symbolic.”

Toad, standing in the shadows, shrugs. “Might’ve used a little extra. For effect.”

The fire roars. The logs crack like they’re screaming. Pine sap hisses.

Jonah mutters, “Overkill.”

Seb’s just staring into it, eyes fixed like the flames are speaking directly to his chest hair.

I try to regain composure.

Straighten my robe. Lift my arms again like this was absolutely the plan and not a propane-fueled masculinity detonation. “The transformation,” I say, voice a little higher now, “Has begun.”

The fire is still raging like it knows we’re about to commit emotional crimes.

I step back, raise my arms like the Queen of Ashes, and nod toward the group. “When you’re ready,” I say. “Come forward. One at a time. Burn your kings.”

No one moves at first.

Then, of course, Asher steps forward.

He clutches his letter like it’s a diary page and a final exam. His curls are extra floofy. His chest is flushed, and I’m already bracing myself for emotional impact.

He approaches the fire slowly, then turns to us and says, “Mine’s a little long, but I wanted to be thorough.”

Of course he did.

“Dear King Me,” he begins, “You were always too loud when I needed stillness, and too still when I needed to be loud.”

Oh gods, here we go.

“You thought softness was shameful. You built walls made of punchlines. But I forgive you, because you were trying to protect something tender.”

I swallow.

Asher wipes his eyes, then he drops the letter into the fire and whispers, “Goodbye.”

I am not okay. I want to clap. I want to sob. I want to knit him a crown made of forgiveness and ethically sourced moss.

Seb steps forward like he’s being dragged by fate, holding what I can only describe as a vaguely humanoid figure made of twigs, bark, and... is that moss glued on with pine sap?

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds it up.

Then, in his usual gravel-rumble says, “This was the version of me that thought staying silent made me stronger.”

He stares at the fire, and then yeets the stick creature in like it owes him child support.

The flames leap. The effigy explodes in a shower of bark.

Seb turns and walks back to the circle like he didn’t just emotionally exorcise a forest demon.

I am devastated. And maybe aroused. I don’t know anymore.

Miles steps forward with his hands in fists, shoulders tight, expression like he’s about to confess to a war crime.

He unfolds a single sheet of paper, looks at the fire and then begins to read with all the intensity of a man defending his dissertation on internalized repression. “Dear King, You were efficient. Ruthless. Respected. But you were also a coward. You spoke in data when you should’ve used your damn heart.”

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