Submitting to my Ex Uncle-Chapter 226

Music Recommendation: Saturn by Sleeping at Last.

.....

"Is it selfish to choose my own destruction at my chance at love?" Amara sobbed.

Her words were barely a whisper, but Celeste felt them like a shiver running through her bones. She held her tighter.

Amara’s tears soaked through her shirt, and Celeste didn’t care. She didn’t move. She only smoothed a hand through Amara’s tangled hair and whispered, "No, my love. It’s not selfish. It’s human."

Amara trembled in her arms, clutching at her like a drowning woman. Her voice cracked when she spoke again. "Then why does it feel like I’m losing myself all over again?"

Celeste closed her eyes, resting her chin on the crown of Amara’s head. The smell of her shampoo — faint lavender and something saltier, like the ocean — clung to her.

"Because love demands pieces of us," she whispered, almost tearing up. "Even when we swear we’ve got nothing left to give."

Amara’s breath hitched. "I gave him everything, Celeste. Every single thing. I gave him the parts of me that I didn’t even exist yet, and now I don’t know who I am without him."

Celeste’s chest tightened. Amara was human, yes. However, she never dreamt a day would come when Amara would feel this way.

"You’re still you," she said quietly. "Bruised, yes. But not gone."

Amara pulled back slightly. Her eyes were now glassy and red. "When he told me he was Michelle. Do you know what that did to me?"

Celeste’s lips parted, but no words came. Amara laughed then. It wasn’t her normal bubbling laugh, but a hollow, trembling sound that cracked like glass.

"It made me realize I never knew him," she said. "Not really. I fell in love with a name, a voice, and a ghost of someone who lied his way into my veins. And yet..." She swallowed hard. "Yet I can’t hate him."

Her voice dropped lower. "That’s the worst part, Celeste. I want to hate him. God, I need to. But every time I try, all I can think of is the way he said my name. Like it was a prayer he wasn’t worthy of." Her tears dropped when she shut her eyes, as if to forget.

Celeste cupped her face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears that refused to stop falling. "You don’t have to hate him," she said softly. "You just have to stop breaking for him."

Amara’s lips trembled. "What if breaking is all I know how to do?"

Celeste stared at her. She stared at the girl she loved like a sister, the one who had always walked into storms and called them destiny without flinching. "Then we’ll learn something else," she said. "Together."

Amara’s breathing slowed, but her gaze was far away. "He said he’d give it all up for me," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He said he’ll give up everything for me. His revenge. His hate. Everything. And all I could think of was how unfair that sounded because I don’t want to be the reason someone changes. I just wanted to be enough as I was."

Celeste’s throat burned. "You were enough," she said firmly. "He was the one who wasn’t ready to be loved properly."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional trembling breath from Amara. The city beyond the windows kept moving, alive and unaware, while two women sat on the kitchen floor trying to remember how to breathe without pain.

Amara wiped her eyes roughly. "I hate how everything still reminds me of him," she whispered. "The coffee. The mirror. Even my damn heartbeat feels like his."

Celeste smiled weakly. "Then we’ll change the rhythm," she murmured. "One breath at a time."

She stood, offering Amara her hand. "Come on. Let’s get you changed."

Amara hesitated before taking it. Her fingers were cold. When Celeste pulled her up, she swayed. Her body was weary, while her soul was heavier.

They moved slowly toward the bedroom. Celeste opened the blinds just enough to let the late afternoon light in. The room smelled faintly of dust and sadness.

Amara sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her hands. "Do you think he ever loved me?" she asked suddenly.

Celeste didn’t answer right away. She sat beside her and intertwined their fingers together. "I think he did," she said finally. "But sometimes love isn’t enough to make a person whole."

Amara let out a shaky laugh. "Then what’s the point of it?"

Celeste tilted her head. "Maybe it’s not about being whole. Maybe it’s about learning where the cracks are and deciding who’s worth seeing through them."

Amara was silent for a long time. Then she whispered, "I wish I could unmeet him."

Celeste looked down at their joined hands. "No, you don’t."

Amara’s eyes filled again with tears. "How can you say that?"

"Because if you unmeet him, you unmeet yourself," Celeste said quietly. "You unlearn the depth of your own heart. You unfeel all the things that made you real."

A tear slipped down Amara’s cheek again. "You always know what to say."

"No," Celeste smiled sadly. "I just know what it feels like to survive loving someone who didn’t stay."

Amara leaned into her again, resting her head on Celeste’s shoulder. The light outside dimmed until the whole room was bathed in twilight.

Celeste reached up and stroked her hair. "You’ll find yourself again," she whispered.

Amara’s voice was small. "What if I don’t want to?"

Celeste’s throat tightened. "Then I’ll hold on to you until you do."

Amara closed her eyes, whispering, "It hurts so much, Celeste."

Celeste kissed her forehead softly. "That means you’re still alive."

Celeste whispered, almost to herself, "You don’t have to fix what broke you, Amara. You just have to stop living like you deserved it."

Amara’s tears had slowly dried off, but her voice was still trembling when she parted her lips, "Then maybe tomorrow... I’ll start learning how to stop."

Celeste nodded, holding her tighter. "That’s all I need you to do."