Rebirth: Love me Again

[ESTELLE]

From the very beginning, Damien's love had felt like something borrowed. He had looked at me like I was a surprise—beautiful, maybe, but unexpected.

A detour he hadn't planned to take. I'd mistaken his fascination for something deeper, clung to every compliment like it was proof that I mattered. That I belonged beside him.

But Kelsey? Kelsey had never needed to earn his love.

She was the plan.

The childhood friend. The first love. The girl who had seen him before the fame, before the weight of a royal name twisted his smile. She had history with him—roots that ran deep and tangled in all the right places. Me? I was an ornament. Temporary. Replaceable.

I curled my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly, trying to anchor myself to something solid. I couldn't cry. No. My tears were stuck somewhere in my throat, like my body was saving them for later, when the silence was heavier and the loneliness more unbearable.

Why had I ever thought I had a chance?

He had never made me promises. Not really. But I had filled in the blanks. Painted a future with him using every brushstroke of his kindness, every moment he stayed just a little too long, every time his fingers traced lazy circles on my skin like he was mapping a place he wanted to stay.

But love? Love had never been in the blueprint.

Just desire.

Just comfort.

Just me, clinging to the idea that maybe, if I stayed long enough, he'd start to see me the way I saw him.

I stood eventually, stripped off my dress, and pulled on one of his hoodies hanging by the bathroom door. It still smelled like him—like that stupid cologne I'd once secretly spritzed onto my pillow just to pretend he was beside me.

How pathetic.

I padded into the kitchen and turned on the espresso machine, even though it hated me. It blinked at me like it knew I was emotionally unstable and not to be trusted with caffeine.

"Join the club," I muttered.

I sat at the counter with my untouched coffee and stared into the dark liquid like it held some kind of answer. What now? What was I supposed to do? Fight for him? Beg for scraps?

No. I still had some pride left. Shattered pride, maybe, but it was something.

Still . . . even as I told myself I needed to walk away, that I deserved better than being his backup plan, I couldn't help the ache that bloomed in my chest. The ache of losing someone who was never really mine—but who I had loved anyway. Foolishly. Completely.

Because no matter how much I hated her in that moment . . . Kelsey didn't steal Damien from me.

She just took back what had always been hers.

And I—I was just the girl left in the shadows, pretending that a few stolen moments could compare to a lifetime of belonging.

The apartment was too quiet.

My mind too loud.

And my heart . . . God, my heart wouldn't shut up. Beating like it still believed in a future that was no longer possible.

I didn't know what my next move was.

All I knew was that I needed to feel something other than this hollow ache in my chest. Maybe tomorrow I'd come up with a plan. Maybe tomorrow I'd think about how to move on, how to rebuild.

But tonight?

Tonight I was going to fall apart in private—curled up in his hoodie, drinking bad coffee, and pretending like I wasn't completely and irrevocably in love with a man who would never look at me the way he looked at her.

And maybe that was the real tragedy.

Not that he didn't love me back.

But that for one fleeting moment, I thought he did.

=== ===

A week had passed.

Seven slow, aching days, and I still didn't know what to do with my life.

Part of me wanted—desperately—to stay. To hold onto whatever faint thread of hope was left. Because deep in my mind, deeper still in my stubborn heart, I believed Damien was my soulmate. The one I'd always been waiting for, even before I knew what love was supposed to feel like.

But hope without proof was a dangerous thing.

There had been no sign of Damien. No calls. No messages. Not even a shadow passing by the apartment to remind me he still cared. I was left floating in a strange, inescapable limbo—caught between love and heartbreak, memory and silence.

And somewhere in that silence, I started noticing the signs.

I'd been brushing them off for days. Maybe longer. The nausea, the headaches, the way my body felt just a little . . . off. I told myself it was stress. Fatigue. Hormonal imbalance. Anything, anything but the truth I didn't want to face.

Because if I said it out loud—if I knew—then it would be real.

But when my period didn't come . . . I knew.

I waited a few more days, pretending to be brave, but inside, I was crumbling. Then finally, I gathered the courage and went to the doctor. I sat there in a cold white room, clutching the edge of the sterile paper sheet, trying to pretend I was calm when my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The confirmation came in a soft, matter-of-fact voice: I was pregnant.

The world stopped spinning for a moment. Everything—every noise, every thought—went quiet except for the sound of my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.

Pregnant. With Damien's child.

I pressed my hand gently to my stomach, and I knew. Even before the doctor explained that it would take another three or four months to determine the gender—I already knew.

"She's a girl," I whispered.

The doctor smiled politely, as if humoring me. "It's still early. We won't know for sure until—"

"No," I said, more certain than I'd ever been about anything in my life. "She's a girl. I can feel it."

And in that moment, everything changed.

All the confusion, all the heartbreak and questions, melted into something sharper. Clearer.

A decision.

I was done waiting. Done chasing shadows and clinging to the broken pieces of a relationship that had long since shattered. Damien had made his choice—even if it was without words. He'd chosen Kelsey. Chosen silence. And maybe he had his reasons. Maybe there were a hundred things I didn't understand.

But this . . . this wasn't just about me anymore.

There was a heartbeat inside me now. A new life. A future I had the power to shape, even if I had to do it alone.

So, I made up my mind.

I was going back to New York.

Back to the place where I called home. Back to the chaos and noise and lights. But this time, I wasn't returning as the same girl who'd left. I was no longer someone waiting to be chosen. I was choosing myself—and my daughter.

I would start over. Build something new from the ruins. Not because it was easy—but because I had to.

Because love, real love, doesn't abandon you in silence.

And even if Damien never came back . . . even if he never looked for me again, I would be okay. We would be okay.

I'd raise her with strength, with laughter, with all the love I had in me. She would never feel unwanted. Never wonder if she was enough. And she would definitely never love a guy that would make her second option.

And as I stepped out of the clinic, the wind sharp against my skin, I wrapped my coat tightly around me. Not to protect myself—but to shield her. My girl. My future.

Damien might never know.

But I did.

This was no longer a story about chasing love.

It was about becoming something greater.

A mother.