Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Laura bent down and gathered the old photo albums that chronicled her life with Jonathan. These albums that were once a source of comfort, now felt like shackles—binding her to a past she no longer wished to carry. The memories inside, once precious, had become a painful reminder of a love that had always been one-sided. Her fingers lingered over the worn covers as the burden of the past pressed on her heart. She knew she had to let go, to finally break free before she could face Jonathan again, or truly allow herself to move forward—to give her heart a chance with someone who would cherish it.

With trembling hands, she struck a match, watching as the flame flickered alive. She tossed it into the open grill where she had already piled old papers for fuel. The fire caught quickly, its heat rising as the flames licked hungrily at the edges of the kindling. The air filled with the crackle of burning wood, but Laura felt no warmth, only a growing emptiness.

Slowly, she opened the first album—the earliest memories of her and Jonathan, from when they were just children. As she flipped through the pages, a bitter smile tugged at her lips. Each picture told a story, but there was something painfully clear in every one. She saw herself clinging to him, her arms always wrapped around him, her eyes filled with joy and longing. Jonathan, on the other hand, was there, but he never seemed to hold on as tightly.

Page after page revealed the same pattern. Laura, always leaning in. Laura, always chasing after him, needing him in ways he never seemed to need her. The realization stung more deeply than she had expected. She had spent so much of her life believing they shared something special, but in the quiet moments captured by those photographs, she now saw the truth: it had always been her giving more, loving more, hoping more.

Her heart clenched as the flames consumed the edges of the album, the pages curling and blackening. Each photograph dissolved into ash, and with it, the weight of years of unspoken feelings. She had clung to these memories, believing they were the thread that kept them tied together. But now, as she watched them burn, she understood that they had only been holding her back—keeping her bound to someone who had never fully returned the love she offered so freely.

As the fire roared, she closed her eyes and whispered softly to herself, "I have to let go."

It was time to free herself from the past, and with that, she threw the rest of the albums into the flames. She stood there, watching as her history with Jonathan burned away, page by page, until there was nothing left but ash. In that moment, Laura felt the weight lift, but the ache of loss settled deep within her. She knew this was the first step toward something new, but the pain of it still cut deep.

"It had always been me chasing. It's time to stop running after someone who never once looked back."

Laura's voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words lingered in the surrounding. Just as she was about to toss the last photo into the flames, her mother's voice cut through the moment.

"Laura? Have you seen my—" Aurelia's words stopped short, her eyes widening as she saw the charred remnants of what had once been her daughter's best memories.

"Laura?! What did you do?" she asked, alarmed, rushing toward her daughter. Her gaze fell on the one photograph still clutched in Laura's hand. It was from Laura's 18th birthday—her in a beautiful blue gown, looking as radiant as ever, but the smile in the picture was strained, empty.

"I was so excited that day," Laura chuckled bitterly, her laughter hollow as if trying to mask the pain. "I thought I could dance with him. I waited for him. Can you imagine?" Her laugh broke, teetering dangerously close to a sob.

Aurelia's heart clenched. She could see the depth of the hurt etched across her daughter's face. The night of that party was meant to be a celebration, but Laura's joy had been shadowed by Jonathan's absence, the hope she had pinned on him unraveling in slow, painful realization.

"I never thanked you guys properly for that party," Laura said, shaking her head. "It was beautiful. But I spent the whole night waiting for Jonathan to show up, to see me in that dress. You know?" She paused, swallowing back the tears. "No matter how much effort I put into looking pretty, he never really noticed."

Laura took the photograph from her mother's hand, holding it gently, as if it were the only piece of her past she could still bear to hold on to. Her eyes, which had once been filled with youthful hope in that photo, now reflected a hard-earned acceptance.

"But of all the photographs I've kept," Laura continued, her voice soft, "I think this one is the only one I want to keep." She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and Aurelia felt the sting of pity deep in her chest.

She had known her daughter had always been fond of Jonathan, ever since they were children, but she hadn't realized how deeply it had affected Laura—how much she had allowed that one-sided love to shape her sense of self.

"This is the best photograph ever taken of me, Mom. Thank you," Laura whispered, her gaze still locked on the image, as if trying to find some closure within its edges.

Aurelia, unable to hold back anymore, pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. She felt Laura's body tremble slightly, and she patted her back gently, trying to hold her together, even if only for a moment.

"You're going to be fine, Laura. You will be fine," Aurelia reassured her, though her own voice quivered with emotion.

Laura leaned into the hug, closing her eyes. She didn't know if she was ready to believe those words yet, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, letting go wasn't as impossible as it seemed.