To My Shattered Soul

“Let me go!”

I can still hear her voice—raw, terrified. I can still feel her fingers slipping from mine.

Her body hit the ground like a thunderclap I’ve never been able to silence. Blood pooled beneath her head. That image haunted my nights for years.

Ellie was falling.

And I couldn’t stop her.

I lost her when I was just ten years old.

She wasn’t ordinary—her body bore the effects of a rare illness that caused rapid weight gain. And the world, especially children, are merciless to those who don’t fit their mold. She was mocked, ridiculed, humiliated. No matter how many times I told her she was beautiful, no matter how often I swore I’d stand by her, she never believed me.

She believed the bullies.

She let their voices drown out mine.

And for years, I hated her for it. For what she did. For making me sick. For making me lonely. For leaving me behind with questions that would never be answered.

Even though I learned how to smile again, there’s a silence inside me that never left. It began the moment I saw her fall. It stayed. Haunted my nights. Stole my sleep.

I ended up in therapy. Psychiatrist after psychiatrist. I was just a child, but I felt like my soul had aged a century in a single afternoon. And through it all, I carried that hate. I hated Ellie for choosing death over me. For abandoning me in the ruins of our friendship.

She broke me.

And I couldn’t forgive her.

For years, I flinched at eye contact. I avoided friendships. Trust felt like a trap. No one ever came close to what Ellie meant to me. So I shut everyone out.

Until Jordan.

Relentless. Clingy. Annoyingly warm-hearted Jordan.

He barged into my life like a storm of sunshine I never asked for. I tried to push him away, but he didn’t flinch. Every time I built a wall, he climbed it.

He showed me something no one else could—he showed me that not everyone leaves.

Slowly, he lit up the darkness Ellie left behind.

He didn’t heal me.

But he gave me warmth.

He pulled me from my misery… only to become the reason for it again.

Yes, he left too.

Not like Ellie—but in his own way.

Today, I was heading to my lawyer’s office. The divorce papers were ready. Another goodbye I wasn’t ready for.

I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my short blonde bob into place. The woman staring back didn’t look broken anymore. But looks lie.

I reached for the only thing I had left of Ellie.

A delicate golden swan pendant. I’d given it to her once and said,

“Even the baby swan was judged for its looks… until he grew up and made the world jealous.”

She loved it. Wore it every day.

After she died, I kept it. The only piece of her I could still touch.

I fastened it around my neck. Slipped on my black heels. Pulled on my coat.

I am Daisy Carter.

Daughter of a billionaire.

Twenty-six years old.

And still collecting pieces of people who left.

Keys in hand, I stepped outside.

I started the car, and as the engine hummed to life, memories flickered—

A few years ago, my father offered to fund a business for me. I pitched him an idea rooted in Ellie’s memory: a natural juice to help people lose weight—ethically, safely, with no shame attached.

He believed in it. Hired experts. Built the facility. And I threw myself into the work.

That’s when Jordan showed up.

An intern with too much energy. At first, he irritated me with his constant talking and over-familiar attitude. But eventually, his ideas impressed me. His mind was sharp, and he understood the mission. He got promoted. I began to trust him.

I never meant to fall in love.

But somehow, I did.

He made the world seem soft again. We spent time outside of work. He said all the right things. That money didn’t matter. That he saw *me*. And I believed him.

A year passed. He proposed. I said yes.

Two years into our marriage, I got pregnant. We were overjoyed. I thought maybe this time, I’d get a happy ending.

Then came the accident.

I was driving.

It was my fault.

But it truly broke me when the doctors said I could never conceive again.

Guilt devoured me. And so did what came after.

Jordan grew distant. Cold. Unreachable. I tried everything—lavish gifts, romantic getaways, desperate gestures to revive what we had.

Then the truth surfaced.

Mr. Ian, my most trusted manager, discovered that Jordan was selling our company’s ideas to a competitor.

The man I loved was a traitor.

Still, some part of me kept hoping. That he’d return to the person I once knew.

But how do you win back someone who was never yours to begin with?

He never loved me.

Not truly. Not fully.

And I might’ve forgiven even that.

But then came the final blow.

I had to leave for a business trip overseas. I asked Jordan to come with me. He refused. Said he had work.

I was supposed to be gone a month. But halfway through, something felt wrong.

I flew back early.

The moment I pulled into the driveway, I knew.

There was a car parked outside. One I didn’t recognize.

I entered quietly. Climbed the stairs with my heart in my throat.

And there he was—Jordan. In our bed. With a girl who couldn’t have been older than nineteen.

They both froze. He stammered excuses. Pleaded for forgiveness. Maybe he realized he couldn’t live without the life I gave him.

But I was done.

I would rather face an empty future than live beside a man who betrayed me.

It broke me. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

I walked away. I chose divorce.

And on the way to my lawyer’s office, I thought of Ellie.

I thought of how the world broke her. Not because she was weak—but because it wouldn’t let her be.

You can give everything. Your love. Your truth. Your brilliance. And it still won’t be enough.

If you're curvy, they want you slim. If you’re slim, they call you sick. If you’re perfect, they’ll search for flaws.

That’s what destroyed Ellie. And now, it was destroying me.

Why build a better world when the world always finds new ways to destroy you?

The pain twisted into rage. Then into silence.

And before I could think twice, I turned the wheel.

Straight toward the bridge.

No hesitation. Just the cold water below and my hands locked on the wheel.

I didn’t close my eyes. I didn’t scream. I just let it happen.

As the car plunged into blackness, I saw them—shadows. Blurred. Watching.

I didn’t fight to escape.

Maybe I couldn’t.

When the car struck the surface, the roof smashed against my head.

And everything went dark.

Not because I gave up.

But because, even if I wanted to fight—

My body didn’t.