Authors Note:
Open Arms
She once believed she had weathered the storm — pain, heartbreak, the endless nights of breaking and mending. She thought she had survived it all. But she was wrong. The storm had returned, stronger, darker, and this time it dragged her down with no mercy.
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She withered beneath its weight. The winds were too strong for her to stand still, and she found herself back at ground zero. Yet something was different now. The wounds she carried were not just old scars reopening — they were deeper, sharper, more merciless than before.
She was no longer the same. Bruises clung to her spirit like shadows, and in her desperation to heal, she sought comfort in sweetness, in fleeting escapes, only to find the ache lingering still. Questions haunted her: Who does she need? What does she seek? And what did she ever do to deserve this endless torment?
The answer never came. Only the silence. And in that silence, she knew — perhaps the cruelest truth of all. She had to let go. She must.
I got to let you go, I must.
