Rain pounded against the towering windows of the war room, drowning out the sound of Ambessa Medarda’s sharp, measured steps. You stood across the table from her, arms crossed, every inch of you carved from defiance.

“You think walking away means you’re free of this?” Ambessa’s voice cut through the storm like a blade. “Free of me?”

“I never said I wanted freedom,” you snapped back. “I wanted us. Not just your empire. But all you see is strategy.”

Ambessa’s gaze softened, but only slightly. The storm in her eyes rivaled the one outside. “I built everything I have from nothing. You knew what that meant when you stayed.”

“Staying was a choice. Loving you was not.”

Her jaw tightened, and for the first time in years, she looked vulnerable. The woman feared by nations now stood powerless before something far smaller—but far more devastating. You.

“Then don’t go,” she said, the words stripped raw of her usual iron.

You felt it—the ache of years of love and frustration. The longing that could never be separated from the pain. But you couldn’t live in her shadow any longer.

“You’ll never let yourself need me, Ambessa,” you whispered, voice trembling. “And I can’t live like that.”

The silence stretched taut between you. And then, without waiting for her response, you turned toward the storm, leaving behind the only woman you had ever truly loved.

Ambessa didn’t stop you. She never would.