The Three Who Chose Me-Chapter 78: Unspoken Letters

Josie

The early light creeping through the curtains nudged me awake. My head throbbed dully, the kind of headache that came with too many emotions and too little sleep. I stirred under the covers, groaning quietly as I turned my head—and that was when I saw him.

Varen.

He was still standing by the window, arms folded across his chest, the faintest hint of concern carved into the sharp lines of his face. His gaze wasn’t on anything in particular—it just floated somewhere in the distance, lost in thought. The fact that he was still here, that he hadn’t left me alone through the night, made something warm twist in my chest.

I sighed, pushing the covers back slightly, trying to sit up despite the pulsing in my skull. My movement must have startled him because he turned instantly and rushed to my side, kneeling by the bed with his hand already reaching for my shoulder.

"Hey, easy," he murmured. "You’re awake. Are you okay? You need anything?"

I blinked at him through the sleepiness, my voice raspy as I said, "I can’t believe you actually stayed back... for me."

His hand stayed firm but gentle on my shoulder. "There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Josie. I love you that much. Everything’s going to be fine."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside me. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks as I nuzzled closer to him, burying my face in the space between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like cedarwood and something darker, like firewood after the rain. Safe. Strong.

"Why can’t your brothers be like you?" I whispered into his skin, my words trembling. "You’re not faking it. You really care."

He pulled me tighter into his embrace. "I’m angry with Kiel too," he admitted quietly. "Trust me, I am. But... maybe when you’re calmer, you could try hearing him out. Just once. Not because he’s my brother, but because I know what you two had. I saw it. It was real, Josie. Don’t let it all die like this."

I stiffened slightly. I could feel him watching me as I slowly pulled away and looked up at him, my eyes still swimming.

"Kiel ruined us, Varen," I said with bitter finality. "There’s nothing left to talk about."

He swallowed hard at that, jaw clenching, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. "Okay," he murmured. "No pressure. I’m here either way."

He helped me sit up fully, then got up and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. I heard water running, then the soft clinking of glassware. When he came back, he handed me a glass of water and some painkillers.

"Take these for your head," he said gently. "I’ll get you something to eat too."

"Varen..." I began, but he was already on his way out.

True to his word, he returned with a tray of food—a small bowl of fruits, bread, eggs, and tea. He arranged it neatly on the nightstand and helped adjust my pillows so I could sit up properly. His attentiveness chipped away at the numbness clinging to me like fog.

I picked at the toast for a while, until he sat on the edge of the bed beside me. I looked at him, quietly, then pushed the tray slightly toward him.

"Eat with me?" I asked.

He smiled, not the smug one I was used to seeing, but a soft, tired one. "Of course."

So we ate together, in silence, our shoulders brushing now and then. It felt oddly intimate, and maybe that’s why my chest ached so much—because it reminded me of everything I had lost. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I knew peace couldn’t last long in this place, not with everything broken and burning around me.

The door burst open without warning.

"Josie!" Marcy’s voice filled the room before I could even turn. Her eyes scanned everything—the food, the disheveled bed, me sitting beside Varen with tear-reddened eyes and toast crumbs on my shirt.

Varen stood immediately. He turned toward me, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Be good," he said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Everything’s going to be fine."

I nodded mutely. "I know," I whispered. I hugged him then, tightly, and he hugged me just as fiercely, holding on like he meant it.

And then he was gone.

Marcy stepped further into the room, closing the door gently behind her, though her face still showed the whirlwind she’d just walked into.

"What?" I asked when she just stood there staring at me.

She tilted her head. "You’re not angry with Varen too?"

I blinked, my appetite suddenly gone. I stared at the tray between us and pushed it away with a heavy sigh.

"They’re all different, Marcy," I said, voice dull. "It would be unfair to project my anger onto him too. Thorne and Varen didn’t lie to me. They didn’t—" My voice caught. I swallowed. "I don’t want to talk about it. I’m already breaking apart."

Her face softened as she came to sit beside me, placing a comforting hand on my knee. "I know, honey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push."

I nodded faintly.

A few minutes passed in silence. The ache in my temples returned, along with a fatigue that reached down to my bones. Just as I was about to rest my head against Marcy’s shoulder, there was a gentle knock on the door.

A maid entered, her eyes low and respectful, and held out an envelope.

"A letter for you, Miss," she said.

I frowned, taking it from her. The paper was thick, the handwriting... unmistakable.

My stomach sank.

Kiel.

I felt a spike of rage surge through me as I turned the letter over. My fingers curled against the paper, crumpling it slightly. I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t want to hear his pathetic excuses or read his flowery apologies or whatever pitiful things he thought would fix this.

I was about to rip it in half when Marcy snatched it out of my hand with a sharp, "Don’t!"

My eyes snapped to hers, angry tears prickling at the corners.

"What the hell, Marcy?" I snapped.