Cora POV:

After posting my comment, I found Cole' s profile again and tapped 'remove from special attention'. No more notifications, no more agonizing over his every move. I would use these last few days, these precious moments of solitude, to completely excise him from my heart. He was an infection, and I needed to be surgically clean.

I returned home to an empty house. The silence was deafening, cold and vast. I heated up a can of soup, eating it slowly, the bland taste a reflection of my mood. My phone buzzed. It was Isabela.

We won't be home tonight, love. Cole and I are having a romantic dinner, and then we're staying at a hotel. Don't wait up!

Attached were photos: a candlelit table, an expensive bottle of wine, and a plush hotel room with a rose petal-strewn bed. My fingers trembled as I typed back, "Okay."

A notification popped up from my high school group chat. Plans for a graduation party. I hesitated. I was leaving the state soon, starting a new life. This would be a final farewell, a chance to close this chapter. I decided to go.

Someone in the chat mentioned Cole. "Do you think Cole will show up? He always comes to our events."

I typed, "He won't be there."

They don't know, I thought. They don't know he rejected me. They don't know he has someone else now.

That night, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, fragments of dreams flitting through my mind. I saw Cole, the first time I ever truly noticed him, standing tall and aloof. Then, I saw him turn his back on me, walking away.

I woke with a gasp, my cheeks wet. If he had always been so cold, so distant, would I have fallen so deeply? Would I have understood the boundaries sooner? The most painful part, I realized, wasn't the rejection itself, but the stark contrast. To have been given all that warmth, all that affection, only for it to vanish overnight.

I got out of bed. My eyes fell on the suitcase, still sitting by the door, filled with the ghosts of our past. Just a few more days. I needed to get rid of everything. Clear out the physical space, clear out the emotional space.

I was dragging the now-packed suitcase down the stairs when the front door opened. Cole and Isabela walked in, their arms linked.

Cole's eyes narrowed on the suitcase. "Where are you going with that?" His voice was colder than the morning air.

"To the donation center," I said, my voice flat. "Just getting rid of some old things. I'm moving into the dorms at Juilliard. No need for clutter."

He didn't say a word. He simply walked over, took the suitcase from my hand, and tossed it into a pile of donate-ables by the door. Not even a second glance at the contents. My heart sank. He didn't care. He didn't care that those were the gifts he'd given me, the memories we shared.

He turned to me, his voice firm. "You won't be moving into the dorms. I'll call the admissions office and arrange for you to commute."

He's doing it for Isabela. The thought was a bitter acid in my mouth. He only cares about her convenience, not my future. I just nodded, turning and walking back up the stairs.

As I reached the landing, I heard Isabela' s soft voice drift up. "Is she angry, darling?"

Cole's reply was curt. "She's an adult now. She needs to learn independence."

I paused, my hand on the banister, then continued to my room. Yes, I am an adult. And I will make my own way.

Cora POV:

For the next few days, I stayed mostly in my room. Cole and Isabela were often out, sometimes not coming home until late. I found myself growing accustomed to their absence, to the quiet solitude of the house. I no longer cared where they went or what they did. My world was shrinking, but it was also preparing for a massive expansion.

Sunday arrived, and with it, the high school graduation party. One of my classmates handed me a drink, a fruity concoction that I barely tasted. This was a toast to my past, a farewell to the version of myself I was leaving behind.

After one drink, my head felt swimmy. I excused myself and stepped out into the hallway, needing air. Through the glass wall of the banquet room, I could see Cole. He was surrounded by a group of former teachers and parents, his charm on full display.

I forced myself to look away. But then I heard snippets of conversation from inside the room. "Can you believe Cole's engaged?" "And Cora, what's she going to do now? Still living with him?"

Then, his voice. Cold. Familiar. "Cora is an adult now. Her affairs are no longer my concern."

I stood frozen, head bowed, muttering to myself. "Yes. I am an adult. And Cole Wilson is no longer my concern."

I walked to the window, letting the cool breeze clear my head, then splashed cold water on my face in the restroom. When I emerged, slightly steadier, I collided with him. Cole. He was leaning against the wall, a whiskey glass in his hand, his eyes slightly glazed. Our eyes met.

"Cole, darling, are you quite alright?" Isabela's sweet voice broke the tension. She appeared from around the corner, her arm instantly wrapping around his. "You've had too much to drink."

Cole didn't answer me. He just looked at Isabela, a soft smile gracing his lips. He kissed her forehead tenderly, then swept her into his arms, carrying her easily. "Let's go home, my love."

I watched them disappear, my body rooted to the spot. It felt like an eternity. A classmate walked up to me, concern in her eyes. "Cora? Are you crying?"

I forced a laugh, wiping my eyes. "No, just got an eyelash in my eye."

She sighed, a sad sound. "I always thought Cole would protect you forever. He was so good to you. Remember how he always said you were his little princess, and he'd never let anything hurt you?"

My heart felt heavy, a cold stone in my chest. "We both have our own lives now," I said, the words tasting like ash. "We can't be tied together forever."

"Still," she mused, "I always thought you two would... you know. He always seemed like your boyfriend, not just your guardian."

My eyes stung again, but I didn't let the tears fall. Maybe some bonds are just destined to be temporary. He was my guardian, and I was his ward. Nothing more.

The party ended. As I stepped outside, the rain had started again. Cole and Isabela were waiting by a sleek black car. Cole's jaw was tight. "Cora, where have you been? It's late. You're becoming increasingly irresponsible."

Isabela gently squeezed his arm. "Darling, don't be so harsh. She's just having fun. Besides," she turned to me, a syrupy smile on her face, "you have Cole to protect you now, don't you? And soon, you'll have a boyfriend of your own, to protect you from the rain."

I walked behind them, head bowed. The rain intensified. Cole opened the car door for Isabela, holding the umbrella over her. The umbrella tilted, sheltering her completely, leaving his own shoulder exposed to the cold drops.

He used to do that for me. I remembered him always tilting the umbrella so I wouldn't get a single drop on me. "You're my delicate rose, Cora," he'd said. "You mustn't get wet."

A cold drop landed on my white dress, seeping through the fabric, chilling me to the bone. I looked up at the sky, letting the rain wash over my face. I was no longer his delicate rose. I would be my own sunflower, strong and resilient, reaching for the sun on my own.

Cora POV:

I arrived home soaked and shivering. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. I took a hot shower, the steam doing little to warm my chilled body, then collapsed into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next few days passed in a blur of quiet solitude. The mansion was empty. Cole and Isabela were gone, presumably to their new city apartment. I found myself relieved by their absence. I no longer cared where they were. My focus was purely on my upcoming departure.

My father' s email arrived with flight details and pick-up arrangements. I checked the calendar. Only a few days left. And then it hit me. My flight was scheduled for Cole' s birthday.

A strange twist of fate. Perhaps this is my final gift to him, I thought, a bitter smile touching my lips. My absence. My freedom.

The day before my flight, I meticulously packed the last of my belongings. Most of my old clothes and books were donated. As the donation service personnel sifted through the items, the front door opened. Cole walked in, looking surprised.

"What's going on here, Cora?" he asked, his voice sharp.

I signed the last form, dismissing the two men with a nod. "Just clearing out some old clothes, Cole. Donating them."

He frowned, his eyes scanning the empty spaces in the living room. "You've changed," he murmured, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "There's an... emptiness."

"Oh, by the way," he continued, changing the subject abruptly, "Isabela and I have moved into our new apartment in the city center. It's much quieter there."

I nodded slightly. Yes, it would be quiet without me, wouldn't it?

An old habit, stronger than my resolve, forced the words from my mouth. "Are you... are you having a birthday party this year, Cole?" I looked at him, my voice barely a whisper. "This would have been our tenth."

He flinched. "I don't want to talk about it." He turned, his back to me, and walked away, pulling a small suitcase behind him. The door slammed shut, echoing through the empty house.

My heart clenched. My eyes burned. I went back to my room, instinctively reaching for the bottom drawer of my nightstand. My hand closed on empty air. The drawer where I used to keep the torn pieces of my "Secret" painting was bare. I had already thrown them away.

Only one item remained: an old sketchbook. I pulled it out. Every page was filled with him. Cole. His profile, his hands, his intense eyes.

I remembered him, years ago, taking my small hand in his, saying, "I'm taking you home, Cora." I remembered him pinning a gold medal to my chest after my cello recital. "You're my pride, my glory," he'd whispered. And the single rose, "Wait until you're grown."

I need to scratch these memories out, one by one, I thought, my jaw tight.

The last page of the sketchbook was blank. For years, I had drawn a picture of us every birthday. This year, there would be no drawing of us. Instead, I picked up a pencil. I began to sketch. Cole. And Isabela. His fiancée. I drew them together, meticulously, until the dusk bled into night.

I heard the front door unlock downstairs. Cole. He stumbled in, clearly drunk.

"Cole? Are you alright?" I rushed down the stairs, reaching out to steady him.

He leaned heavily against me, his arm wrapping around my waist. The scent of whiskey and his cologne filled my senses. His hand slid up my back, his touch setting my nerves on fire. His hot lips descended on mine.