Page 136 of Crushed Vow
“I will kill myself,” I whispered, “and you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering if it was because you couldn’t let me breathe.”
He looked like he was unraveling—like the air had been knocked out of him and he didn’t know how to fill his lungs again.
His jaw locked. His mouth trembled like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the language for agony.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t let you go.”
“You have to.” My voice cracked under the weight of it. “Send me away. Just nine months. That’s all I’m asking.”
He shook his head slowly, eyes dark, unbelieving.
“I won’t see any man,” I promised, words tumbling out like a vow. “I know what’s at stake. If I make friends, they’ll be women. But I need no calls. No texts. No voice notes. No shadows. No one watching me.”
I sobbed. “I need it, Cassian. I need it. For me to ever heal. For me to stop wanting to die. For me to maybe...” My voice collapsed. “Maybe feel like a woman again.”
He said nothing. But something in him cracked open completely.
“I want therapy. Twice a week. CBT, DBT, trauma reprocessing—whatever works.” My breath hitched. “I want to explore the possibility of breast reconstruction. I want to stop taping foam to my chest like I’m some kind of shameful accident. I want to wear a shirt and not feel like I’m a wound pretending to be a body.”
I wiped at my face. “Just let me go. Somewhere without eyes on my scars. Somewhere I’m not being watched through your goddamn CCTV.”
Cassian’s expression shattered. Whatever piece of him had been holding together—it broke.
“If you leave...” he said, hoarse, barely audible, “I will die.”
“No.” I stepped forward and our lips brushed—barely, like a dying prayer. His breath caught.
“You won’t,” I whispered. “It’s not forever. Just nine months.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine again. I felt his breath against my skin—uneven, like every inhale might be his last.
His heart was pounding.
“I’m dying, Charlotte,” he murmured.
My body froze. “What... what do you mean?”
His throat moved with effort. “The fire. The smoke inhalation didn’t just take my eyes.” His breath rattled. “It damaged my lungs. Scarred them. I cough blood now. I barely sleep. I’m on oxygen when I’m alone.”
My chest hollowed. “Cassian...”
He lifted his head just enough to meet my eyes again. “I’m not sure I’ll still be here when you return.”
Silence fell between us like a tomb.
“That’s why I’m begging you,” he said, voice frayed. “Please... don’t leave me.”
Tears blurred my vision. I shook my head through them, desperate.
“I have to,” I whispered. “You want me to be whole again, don’t you? This is the only way.”
He was shaking. Breathing unevenly.
“Where will you go?”
“Somewhere safe,” I said. “A quiet city. Maybe in the U.S. Maybe abroad. Somewhere you won’t follow me. Somewhere I can... begin again.”
His jaw tensed. He didn’t argue. Not out loud.
