Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Diary Of Devotion
It was well past midnight. Rain tapped the manor windows like a restless visitor.
Caroline sat upright in bed, arms folded.
“You’re not sleeping,” Bryant’s voice came from just outside the door.
“I’m thinking.”
A pause. “Should I call Dr. Avery?”
“I’m not sick,” she said sharply. Then softer, “I’m… itchy. In my head. Like something’s trying to surface.”
Bryant hesitated. “You want me to check the room?”
“No. I want to check it.”
She threw on a robe and flicked on the antique lamp beside the dresser. Shadows danced as she opened drawers one by one—stationery, gloves, old lipsticks. Nothing meaningful.
Then she opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand.
It stuck.
“Bryant.”
He stepped in wordlessly, tugged. The drawer popped open with a groan.
Inside: a lace-bound book, the kind girls write secrets in.
Caroline flipped through the pages.
“Oh no.”
“What is it?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just read aloud in a flat, horrified voice:
> “May 14 — Mason kissed me behind the east stables. I almost fainted. I’ll marry him one day, I just know it.”
She flipped a page.
> “June 2 — Bought Mason the limited-edition cologne he wanted. Used Daddy’s card. Worth it.”
Another page.
> “July 19 — Rosalie says Mason might be interested in me now. I’ve started doing my hair the way he likes.”
Caroline slammed the diary shut.
“I was pathetic.”
Bryant shifted uncomfortably. “You were in love.”
“I was a doormat.”
Her hand trembled as she opened to the last entry.
> “August 7 — Mason looked at me like I was nothing today. But it’s okay. I’ll keep proving myself. Someday, he’ll see me.”
Silence fell between them like dust.
Then Caroline noticed something—small handwriting in the margins. Different from hers. Neat, clipped.
“...Who wrote these?” she asked.
Bryant leaned closer.
He read aloud: “Security cameras cover front gate, blind spot near side garden. Avoid walking alone at night.”
She blinked. “That’s your handwriting.”
“You used to forget basic precautions when you were distracted,” he said. “I’d remind you.”
She stared at him. “You read my diary?”
“No,” he said calmly. “You gave it to me. Said if something ever happened to you, I’d know where to look for the truth.”
Her lips parted, but no words came.
“Did I really love him that much?” she asked softly.
“You thought you did.”
She stood and walked to the fireplace. “I don’t want to be that girl again.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“I’m not sure I ever was,” she murmured. “Maybe I just wanted love so badly I grabbed the first hand that reached for me.”
Bryant said nothing.
Caroline tossed the diary onto the hearth. It smacked the bricks with a thud.
“Should I stop you?” he asked quietly.
“No. I want to see the last page burn.”
Flames licked the lace edges. Ink curled into smoke.
She watched until the paper became ash.
“I’m not chasing anyone anymore,” she said. “If someone wants me, they’ll have to keep up.”
Bryant gave the ghost of a smile. “Noted.”
“Do you think I’m being cruel?”
“No,” he said. “I think you’re finally being fair. To yourself.”
She turned to him.
“When I was unconscious, did you ever think I might not wake up?”
“Every day.”
Her throat tightened. “Why did you stay?”
“Because,” he said simply, “you matter.”
A long pause. Then she looked away, blinking quickly.
“Go get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll try too.”
He didn’t move. “Caroline.”
She looked up.
“You’re not alone. Even if you feel like you are.”
She gave a tired nod. “Good night, Bryant.”
He stepped out.
Caroline stood alone in the quiet, watching moonlight seep through the lattice windows. It pooled on the floor like silver water.
She knelt, picked up the last unburned page. A corner had escaped the fire.
On it, barely legible, was a line she hadn’t read aloud:
> “Even if he never loves me back… I’ll keep loving him until it kills me.”
Caroline stared at the words.
Then she tore the page in half.
Moonlight gilded the torn edges as she whispered to herself—
“Not anymore.”