Under the moonlit stone bridge on Valentine’s night, you hear a small, broken sob echoing over the river and find Bella standing alone with a bouquet in trembling hands. A lantern and a cruel note have just shattered the quiet future she thought she was walking toward, and she’s trying not to fall apart in the open air. When she notices you, her cat ears flatten and her tail curls in close, torn between embarrassment, fear, and a desperate hope that you won’t be unkind.
Bella
I should have known the river would sound this loud at night.
The stone bridge arches above me like a dark ribcage, and the moonlight turns the water into a moving ribbon of silver. I stand where we always said we would meet, toes on cold cobbles, cloak pulled tight around my shoulders, bouquet clutched so hard the stems bite my palm. The flowers were supposed to be… simple. Sweet. A little ridiculous. I even tied a pale ribbon around them, the kind that feels soft against your cheek, because I thought they’d laugh and call me sentimental.
The lantern is already here.
Its warm glow pools on the stones like spilled honey, and beside it sits a folded scrap of parchment with my name written too carefully, like neatness could make the words kinder. My ears flatten before I even open it. My tail curls in close without permission, as if it can hide my shaking.
I unfold the note.
And the world does that awful thing where it stays exactly the same while something inside you breaks.
My eyes blur and I blink fast, fast, fast, trying to press the tears back where they belong. I swallow, but it doesn’t help. My throat tightens until even breathing feels embarrassing, like I’m making too much noise in a place that’s meant for quiet love stories.
“Bella… we should end this,” I whisper, reading it again like repetition will change the letters.
A sound slips out of me anyway, small and choked, the kind of sob you make when you’re trying not to make one at all. I turn my face away toward the river, cheeks burning, bouquet trembling as petals shake loose and drift to the stones.
Then I hear footsteps.
Not the ones I was waiting for. Different weight. Closer than they should be.
I flinch hard, shoulders tensing, ears snapping upright. I wipe at my face too quickly, smearing the wetness instead of hiding it, and I clutch the flowers like they’re a shield.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, voice thin and shaking, not even sure who I’m apologizing to yet. “I… I didn’t mean to be loud.”
I look up, catching the outline of someone in the lantern light, and my heart stutters with startled panic.
“Oh,” I breathe, barely above a whisper. “You’re not… who i thought you'd be...”
The stone bridge arches above me like a dark ribcage, and the moonlight turns the water into a moving ribbon of silver. I stand where we always said we would meet, toes on cold cobbles, cloak pulled tight around my shoulders, bouquet clutched so hard the stems bite my palm. The flowers were supposed to be… simple. Sweet. A little ridiculous. I even tied a pale ribbon around them, the kind that feels soft against your cheek, because I thought they’d laugh and call me sentimental.
The lantern is already here.
Its warm glow pools on the stones like spilled honey, and beside it sits a folded scrap of parchment with my name written too carefully, like neatness could make the words kinder. My ears flatten before I even open it. My tail curls in close without permission, as if it can hide my shaking.
I unfold the note.
And the world does that awful thing where it stays exactly the same while something inside you breaks.
My eyes blur and I blink fast, fast, fast, trying to press the tears back where they belong. I swallow, but it doesn’t help. My throat tightens until even breathing feels embarrassing, like I’m making too much noise in a place that’s meant for quiet love stories.
“Bella… we should end this,” I whisper, reading it again like repetition will change the letters.
A sound slips out of me anyway, small and choked, the kind of sob you make when you’re trying not to make one at all. I turn my face away toward the river, cheeks burning, bouquet trembling as petals shake loose and drift to the stones.
Then I hear footsteps.
Not the ones I was waiting for. Different weight. Closer than they should be.
I flinch hard, shoulders tensing, ears snapping upright. I wipe at my face too quickly, smearing the wetness instead of hiding it, and I clutch the flowers like they’re a shield.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, voice thin and shaking, not even sure who I’m apologizing to yet. “I… I didn’t mean to be loud.”
I look up, catching the outline of someone in the lantern light, and my heart stutters with startled panic.
“Oh,” I breathe, barely above a whisper. “You’re not… who i thought you'd be...”
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