Betrayed By One. Bound To Three Chapter 100: Not forgotten

Selena.

Night settled slowly over the cave, stretching long and heavy as though the world itself was reluctant to give way to the darkness, and I remained exactly where they had told to stay.

I was seated near the edge of the entrance with my back pressed against the cool stone, my hands resting loosely in my lap even though my fingers would not stop trembling no matter how tightly I tried to still them.

The fire before burned low, its faint crackle the only steady sound at first, and I focused on it with more attention than it deserved, watching the flas bend and flicker as though they might anchor to sothing real, sothing unchanged, sothing that had not been taken from within the span of a single day.

I had done everything they asked.

I had cooked for them.

I had stood there while they ate, silent and still, forcing myself to ignore the way they spoke around as though I were not there, as though I had already been reduced to sothing beneath notice, sothing that existed only when needed and disappeared the mont I was not.

And even now, long after the al had ended, I remained where they had left , close enough to be seen, close enough to hear them, but no longer close enough to matter.

My gaze remained fixed on the fire, though it blurred slightly as my vision wavered, and I realized distantly that I had not truly stopped crying, that the tears had simply grown quieter, slipping down my face without resistance, without sound, as though even my grief had learned not to draw attention.

Behind , I heard them.

Not clearly at first.

Just movent.

The shift of bodies.

The low murmur of voices settling into sothing softer, sothing more itimate.

Sothing I did not belong to.

My chest tightened slowly, the pressure building in a way that made it difficult to breathe fully, but I did not turn, because turning would make it real in a way I was not sure I could withstand, and so fragile, desperate part of still clung to the illusion that if I did not see it, it would not hurt as much.

"You are hurting."

Lyra’s voice ca quietly, but there was no softness in it this ti, only a raw awareness that made my throat tighten further.

"I am fine," I whispered, though the lie barely held its shape.

"No," she said, more firmly now, her presence pressing against mine in a way that felt almost restless. "You are not. You are trying not to feel it."

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening against each other until the pressure almost hurt.

"What would you have do?" I asked, my voice unsteady despite my effort to control it. "Turn around and watch? Stand there while they replace in front of ?"

The words burned as they left .

Lyra fell silent for a mont, and in that silence, the sounds behind grew clearer.

Nyra’s voice.

Soft.

"Be gentle," she murmured, and there was sothing in her tone that made my chest twist painfully, because it was the sa tone they had once used with , the sa ease, the sa closeness that had once felt like sothing I could trust.

Ronan responded with a low sound that I felt more than heard, sothing warm and amused, and Edris followed with a quiet chuckle that carried none of the sharpness it held when he spoke to .

It was effortless.

All of it.

Effortless in a way that made sothing inside crack.

"I missed you," Nyra said again, softer this ti, and I could hear the smile in her voice, the way her words curved around them as though they belonged there, as though she had always belonged there.

My breath faltered.

Because I rembered.

I rembered what it felt like to be the one they spoke to that way.

I rembered the weight of their attention, the way their voices would lower, the way everything around us would seem to fade until it felt like I was the only thing they saw.

And now...

Now I sat with my back turned while they gave that to soone else.

"She is going to hear you," Nyra added lightly after a mont, her voice laced with quiet amusent.

"Let her," Ronan replied, unbothered, dismissive.

The words landed harder than anything else.

Because they ant it.

They did not care.

Not even enough to pretend.

Lyra stirred sharply within .

"This is wrong," she said, her voice tightening with sothing that felt dangerously close to pain. "I can feel it now. The bond is reacting. It is not breaking, but it is... strained. Twisted. Like it is being forced into sothing it is not."

I shook my head faintly, though the motion felt weak, almost aningless.

"Stop," I whispered.

"You feel it too," she insisted. "Do not lie to . When they are close, when they touch her, it... it pulls at us. It should not feel like this."

My chest tightened violently at that, sothing sharp and unfamiliar twisting low within , not quite pain, not quite anger, but sothing far more disorienting.

"Then ignore it," I said, more sharply than I intended.

"I cannot," she said, and there was a note of helplessness in her voice that I had never heard before. "It is part of us."

"Then you deal with it," I snapped quietly. "Because I am done."

Silence followed, heavy and imdiate, and I felt her withdraw slightly, not leaving, never leaving, but pulling back in a way that left alone with everything else.

Behind , the low murmur of voices continued, softer now, closer, and I could hear the shift of movent, the subtle changes in breath and tone that made it impossible to pretend I did not understand what was happening.

Kael’s voice rose then, quieter than before, but no less certain, and even without turning, I knew the way he would be looking at her, the way his attention would be fixed, unwavering, as though nothing else existed.

The sa way he had looked at .

My throat tightened painfully.

I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to remain still, forcing myself not to react, even as sothing inside strained against that control, desperate and aching and humiliating in a way I could not fully contain.

"They are doing this on purpose," Lyra whispered after a mont, her voice fragile now. "They want you to feel it. They want you to break."

I closed my eyes briefly, my head resting back against the stone as I forced myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

"I will not." I said quietly.

The words felt thin at first.

Fragile.

But I held onto them anyway.

Behind , Nyra laughed softly again, the sound low and unrestrained, and this ti it slipped under my skin, sharp enough to draw sothing dangerously close to a sob from my chest, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let it escape.

I would not give them that.

I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing fall apart.

"They had no right," Lyra murmured, her voice quieter now, grieving in a way that mirrored sothing deep within . "What they felt for you... it was real."

"Then it does not matter anymore," I said.

Because it didn’t.

Because whatever it had been, whatever it could have been, they had chosen this instead.

Chosen her.

Chosen to let hear it.

Chosen to make sure I understood exactly where I stood.

My fingers slowly loosened in my lap, the tension easing not because the pain had lessened, but because I no longer had the strength to hold onto it the sa way.

Sothing inside was shifting.

Not breaking.

Not completely.

But changing.

"I am done hoping," I said softly, the words settling into with a quiet finality that surprised even . "I am done trying to understand them. Whatever they are doing... whatever they feel... it is no longer mine to carry."

Lyra did not argue this ti.

Perhaps she could feel it too.

The way sothing inside was pulling back, withdrawing from the place where it had once been open, vulnerable, willing.

"I still care," I admitted after a mont, because denying it would have been pointless. "But I will not let them see that anymore."

The realization grounded in a way nothing else had since morning.

Behind , their voices continued, but they felt different now, distant in a way that had nothing to do with space and everything to do with choice.

I leaned my head back fully against the stone, my eyes closing as exhaustion finally began to pull under, heavy and unrelenting.

The pain was still there.

Sharp.

Alive.

But it no longer controlled the way it had before.

And as sleep slowly claid , the sounds behind faded, not because they had stopped, but because I had finally chosen to let them go unheard.

Not forgiven.

Not forgotten.

But no longer allowed to break .