Chapter 7

CRYSTAL BURGESS POV:

"That's enough, Crystal!" Jorden snarled, stepping in front of Andrea and her son, his body a protective barrier. His face was a thundercloud. "Are you really going to badger a child over a spilled kettle? Andrea already apologized to you!" He gestured wildly at my arm. "Look at what you've done, making him cry like that!"

Garrick remained silent, but the deep furrow in his brow spoke volumes. He clearly agreed with Jorden. Even Connor, my supposedly gentle Connor, subtly shook his head.

My three partners. The men who had once vowed to protect me, to cherish me, now stood shoulder to shoulder, a unified front against me.

Andrea softly tugged on Jorden' s sleeve. She leaned down, murmuring something to her son. The boy mumbled a reluctant, barely audible "Sorry" into her shoulder, his eyes still red and sullen.

Even with his forced apology, the faces of my three former partners remained grim, their eyes still holding that familiar disappointment. Andrea, her expression full of genuine regret, stepped forward again. "Crystal, please, let me treat your burn. I have some excellent salve that will help with the pain and prevent scarring."

But I felt nothing but a chilling numbness spreading through my veins. I was freezing, shivering despite the warmth of the room. I could barely stand.

"No," I choked out, the word barely a whisper. I didn't wait for a response. I turned, stumbling towards the door, then slammed it shut behind me, severing the last thread of connection.

I plunged into the biting cold of the late afternoon, the wind whipping around me, tearing at my hair and clothes. My mind was eerily calm, clearer than it had been in days.

It's over.

I spent the next two days locked in my apartment, not eating, barely sleeping. The pain in my arm was a dull throb, forgotten amidst the deeper ache in my chest.

On the third day, just as my father had promised, he came. He chewed on a dry leaf, his face tight with a bitter sadness.

"The journey will be long, Crystal," he said, his voice raspy. "We leave tonight." He looked at my empty apartment, then back at me. "Do you have anything you want to take with you?"

I managed a weak, bitter smile. "No, Dad," I replied, shaking my head. "Nothing at all."

News of my return to my father's house, and the impending decision, had spread like wildfire through our social circle. The other women, those who still had no partners and faced the possibility of the arranged marriage, were restless, their faces etched with anxiety. The thought of being chosen, of leaving their lives, horrified them.

Then, the door to my apartment burst open.

Jorden stormed in first, his face a mask of furious anger, his eyes searching for me. "What did you tell your father this time?" he demanded, his voice seething with accusation.

Connor followed, his brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping around my desolate apartment. He paused, his eyes lingering on the few scattered belongings, the bareness of the room. It gave him pause, I could tell.

Garrick stood silently behind them, his usual composure fractured, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

I was so tired. Bone-deep weary. I didn't have the energy to fight, to explain, to even care anymore.