2.

Burning Memories

Vera’s POV

By the time I got to my apartment, my chest felt heavy with anger and heartbreak. I slammed the door shut behind me, kicked off my heels, and marched straight to my room. My steps were firm, my mind racing as I yanked open the wardrobe. There, tucked in the back corner, was a small wooden box.

I hesitated for just a second before pulling it out. My hands trembled as I placed it on my bed and opened it. Inside were all the photos I’d secretly kept of Daniel Hart, carefully hidden away for years. Alongside them were the letters I’d written to him—letters full of feelings I never had the courage to express.

One by one, I took everything out, spreading them on the floor. Each photo was a piece of my past, and each letter a reminder of how foolish I’d been. I felt a lump form in my throat, but I swallowed it down, determined not to cry.

Dragging a metal bin from the corner of my room, I piled everything inside. The photos, the letters—every memory of him went into that bin. With shaking hands, I grabbed a lighter from my desk and lit the first edge of paper.

The flames flickered and spread, consuming everything. I watched the fire devour the pieces of my heart, the heat warming my face as my anger burned with it.

“Goodbye, Daniel,” I whispered. My voice cracked, but I didn’t let myself break.

The flames danced, bright and fierce, mirroring the rage and pain coursing through me. God, I was so heartbroken. How had it come to this? How had I let myself fall for someone who didn’t even see me?

As the fire died down, leaving only ashes behind, a memory hit me—a flashback I hadn’t thought about in years.

Flashback

It was my first day of grade nine. A new school, new faces, and new challenges. I’d transferred because my old school didn’t offer the subjects I wanted—Arts and Gemology.

The day had gone smoothly at first. I found my classes easily, made polite conversation with a few classmates, and even managed to enjoy lunch without feeling too out of place.

Then came the last period: PE.

The girls were divided into teams to play a volleyball match against the boys. I loved volleyball—it was my favorite sport—but I wasn’t expecting what happened next.

That’s when I first saw him.

Daniel Hart.

He was in grade twelve, already a star athlete. His presence was magnetic; the girls couldn’t stop giggling and whispering about him. But not me. To me, he was just another boy, and I wasn’t about to get distracted.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that the boys were trying to outshine us. They spiked the ball hard, showing off their strength and speed. But I wasn’t one to back down. I played with everything I had, determined to prove that the girls could hold their own.

Daniel noticed.

When the game ended, our coach approached me with a clipboard. “Vera Emerson,” he said, scribbling my name. “You’re on the list for the volleyball tournament next month. Your performance today was excellent.”

I stared at him in surprise. “Thank you, but I’m not interested,” I said firmly.

The coach frowned. “Are you sure? You have potential.”

Before I could answer, Daniel stepped forward, smirking. “Never lose your fire,” he said, his eyes locking with mine.

Something about his tone struck a nerve. Was it encouragement? A challenge? I wasn’t sure, but it left an impression I couldn’t shake.

I turned to the coach. “I’m sure,” I said, my voice steady. Then I walked away, ignoring the feeling of Daniel’s eyes on me.

Back to Present

The memory faded, and I found myself back in my room, staring at the ashes in the bin. That day had been the start of it all. His smirk, his words—they’d planted a seed that grew into something I couldn’t control.

But now, it was over.

I stood up, brushing my hands off and straightening my dress. There was no point in holding on to the past. Daniel Hart was Evelyn’s problem now, not mine.

I walked to the window and opened it, letting the cold night air wash over me. It felt like a fresh start, a way to clear my head and let go of the pain.

For the first time in years, I felt free.