Hazel's POV
The city never truly slept. Neon lights flickered like artificial stars, and horns blared as if protesting the late hour. Hazel sat by the window of her tiny apartment, her knees pulled to her chest, watching the streets below blur through the rain. The annulment papers sat on the table behind her, a silent reminder of what she had finally let go of—or rather, what had never truly been hers to begin with.
She thought she'd feel free, maybe even proud of herself. Instead, a strange emptiness lingered, like a haunting echo.
A knock on her door snapped her from her thoughts.
She hesitated.
No one ever came this late.
Another knock—firm but not aggressive.
"Hazel, it's me," a voice called from the hallway.
She froze.
Caspian?
Her heart stuttered as she slowly approached the door. She opened it just enough to see him standing there, drenched from the rain, his hands in his coat pockets, hair slicked back.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice guarded.
"I tried calling. You didn't answer."
"I saw your texts. You didn't have to come."
"I know. But I wanted to." His voice was soft, hesitant. "Can I come in?"
Hazel stared at him for a long moment, then opened the door wider.
He stepped inside, the scent of rain and expensive cologne trailing after him. He looked around the modest space—worn-out furniture, half-finished paintings, scattered books. So unlike his sleek, sterile world.
"You kept the apartment," he said quietly.
"I couldn't keep the marriage," she replied, walking past him to the kitchen. "Tea?"
"Sure."
Hazel busied herself boiling water, her back to him. "You said you wanted to talk?"
He didn't answer immediately. She turned to see him holding one of her sketchbooks, flipping through the pages.
"You drew me," he said, lifting a page.
Hazel flushed. "That was… a long time ago."
He smiled faintly. "I look softer in your sketches."
"You looked unreachable in real life."
He closed the sketchbook and set it down. "Hazel, I didn't come here to confuse you."
"Then why are you here, Caspian?"
He leaned against the counter. "Because I realized too late what I lost."
She inhaled sharply but said nothing.
"I was angry. About the arrangement. About my life being controlled. You were caught in the crossfire of all that. But you—" he paused, struggling for words. "You never gave up on me, even when I gave you every reason to."
Hazel placed the cups of tea on the table, motioning for him to sit.
He did.
"I'm not here to undo everything," he said. "I know you signed the papers. I just… I needed you to hear it from me. You mattered. More than I ever admitted."
Hazel looked at him, her eyes glossy. "It wasn't about the papers, Caspian. I didn't want a name or a house. I just wanted to be seen. I wanted you to see *me*."
"I do now," he whispered.
"Too late."
"I know."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"I met someone," he finally said.
Hazel stiffened.
"She's not… you," he added. "But she reminded me what it's like to connect with someone. And it made me realize I'd had that once—with you. And I ruined it."
Hazel gave a sad smile. "Then maybe she's good for you."
He nodded slowly. "Maybe."
They sipped their tea in silence, the past and present colliding in the tiny room.
"Hazel," he said after a while. "You don't have to forgive me. But I hope someday you'll remember me as someone who tried to be better—even if I failed."
Hazel looked down. "I think… a part of me will always love the version of you I hoped for."
He stood. "Then I'll leave you with that."Hazel placed the cups of tea on the table, motioning for him to sit.
He did.
"I'm not here to undo everything," he said. "I know you signed the papers. I just… I needed you to hear it from me. You mattered. More than I ever admitted."
Hazel looked at him, her eyes glossy. "It wasn't about the papers, Caspian. I didn't want a name or a house. I just wanted to be seen. I wanted you to see *me*."
"I do now," he whispered.
"Too late."
"I know."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"I met someone," he finally said.
Hazel stiffened.
"She's not… you," he added. "But she reminded me what it's like to connect with someone. And it made me realize I'd had that once-with you. And I ruined it."
Hazel gave a sad smile. "Then maybe she's good for you."
He nodded slowly. "Maybe."
They sipped their tea in silence, the past and present colliding in the tiny room.
"Hazel," he said after a while. "You don't have to forgive me. But I hope someday you'll remember me as someone who tried to be better—even if I failed."
Hazel looked down. "I think… a part of me will always love the version of you I hoped for."
He stood. "Then I'll leave you with that."
As he reached the door, he turned back. "You'll find someone who sees you right away. Don't settle for anyone who needs time to realize your worth."
And with that, he was gone.
Hazel stood in the silence he left behind.
Her heart ached—but it no longer bled.
Sometimes, closure didn't come in grand gestures.Sometimes, it came in soft goodbyes.
And sometimes, strength meant letting go of someone -even after they finally saw you.