Chapter 6: Letting Go Hurts

He thought I was throwing a tantrum.

He always did. The second I asserted myself, I became a child again in his eyes. Would he ever see me as more?

“Aubrey, you don’t have to talk to me in that tone.”

His voice sharpened, all authority. For a second, I flashed back to childhood arguments—curfews, chores, bedtime. But now, the stakes were so much higher.

“I brought Natalie to meet you because I wanted you to meet your future aunt.”

His words hit like a slap. ‘Aunt’—like I was a kid, being introduced to another adult I had to respect.

“Three years ago, during the earthquake, she lost her legs saving me. I need to take responsibility for her. If you still want to stay in this house—”

He sounded so sure, like life was simple: debts and repayments, cause and effect. It made my blood boil.

“Then put away your attitude and don’t make trouble for Natalie.”

His warning gaze swept over me.

The room felt colder, every pair of eyes on me. My cheeks burned, but I didn’t look away.

I wanted to speak, but in the end, I fell silent.

The words jammed in my throat, tangled and useless. Nothing I could say would make him listen.

I couldn’t blame him.

A lifetime of jealousy, small cruelties, and desperate gestures flashed through my mind. I’d always wanted all of Derek—every smile, every moment, every promise.

I was always extremely possessive of Derek.

Even as a kid, I’d glare at girls who giggled at his jokes, whispering to my friends that no one would ever replace me. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop myself.

From childhood to adulthood, I wanted to be the only one in his eyes, the only woman by his side. Over the years, he never had any scandals. If any woman dared to approach him, I’d find a way to scare her off.

I’d talk to them at parties, drop hints, make sure they knew Derek was ‘spoken for.’ Looking back, I cringe at how territorial I was. But I couldn’t let go.

All his favoritism and exceptions were for me.

He bought me a car at sixteen, picked me up every Thanksgiving, remembered every date that mattered. He was my person. Or so I thought.

So in my previous life, when he decided to marry Natalie Foster, I lost it.

I spent nights crying into my pillow, replaying every moment we’d shared. The sense of betrayal was sharper than any heartbreak I’d known.

Does saving a life really have to be repaid with marriage?

I turned it over in my mind, tracing the logic like a maze with no exit. Was love just about owing and paying back?

I thought about it for a long, long time.

Long after everyone else moved on, I was stuck in the same cycle of hope and heartbreak.

I staked my whole life on the answer.

I put everything on the line—my dignity, my future, my happiness. And in the end, I lost it all.

But I still couldn’t figure it out. Now I know—some things just can’t be figured out.

Some mysteries don’t have solutions. Some heartbreaks never heal. Some love stories aren’t meant to have a happy ending.