The Three Who Chose Me
Chapter 37: Splintered Threads

Chapter 37: Splintered Threads

Josie

The second my lips met Varen’s, something in me unraveled.

I gasped as I melted into his kiss, my hands fisting the soft fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself to the heat of his body. His mouth was a heady drug, firm but unhurried, and every brush of his lips against mine made me feel like I was burning from the inside out.

"Varen..." I breathed, but he swallowed my voice with another kiss.

He tasted like mint and warmth and something unmistakably him—earthy, steady, dangerous. My moan was soft, almost helpless, escaping as his hand curled around my waist, dragging me flush against his body. The feel of his palm against my waist made me tremble. He groaned low in his throat, deep and guttural, and my breath hitched in response.

I had never felt wanted like this before. Not in a way that felt like the world was quiet and everything narrowed down to a single touch, a single breath, a single man.

His lips slanted over mine again, more desperate now, more consuming. The way he kissed made my toes curl and my stomach flutter. I felt dizzy, lightheaded, like I’d stepped out of my body entirely. My fingers slid up his chest, feeling the muscles shift beneath his shirt.

And then the door flew open.

We broke apart instantly, but Varen didn’t let go of me. He pressed a soft peck to my lips as if claiming me, grounding me before we both turned to face the doorway.

My heart stuttered painfully.

Kiel was standing there, arms crossed, his eyes sharp and narrow like knives carved from ice. And beside him—unapologetically composed—was Thorne.

Thorne, who barely even glanced my way.

Thorne, whose eyes flickered over me like I was a stranger in the room.

My cheeks flamed. The heat that had bloomed so sweetly moments ago turned into shame, sour and cold. I wanted Thorne to react—to growl or snarl or at least look angry—but he didn’t. He looked... indifferent.

I hated that.

I hated how badly it hurt.

I started to move away, already trying to come up with a reason to leave, but Varen held me down gently, his arm anchoring me in place. He looked at his brothers with a calm smile, though I felt the tension in his grip.

"She made food for me," he said, like that explained everything.

Kiel’s eyes flicked to me. "That’s... good."

But his tone didn’t match his words. There was an edge in it—something too flat, too unreadable. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t angry either. He was something worse: distant.

The silence dragged. I felt small under their scrutiny, like I didn’t belong in the room even though I had every right to be there. I looked at Thorne again, hoping—maybe even praying—that he’d say something. Anything.

But he didn’t. He kept his gaze fixed on a spot just past my head, arms crossed, unreadable.

Something inside me cracked.

"I should go," I mumbled, rising to my feet. My voice was too soft, too brittle.

Varen stood with me, reaching for my hand. "Josie—"

"I’m fine," I lied.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt that Thorne looked through me. That Kiel’s attention was ice and Michelle’s presence still lingered like a ghost in my mind.

I just wanted to breathe.

I walked out before they could stop me, my chest tightening with each step. I should’ve stayed with Varen. I should’ve clung to that sliver of peace I’d found with him. But the emptiness inside me clawed for something more—something whole. And I didn’t know how to ask for it without breaking into pieces.

I wandered until I found myself at the garden.

It was quiet here, and the air was thick with the scent of damp soil and fresh blooms. The sun had already dipped low, casting long shadows across the path. I walked slowly, letting my fingers brush the petals of the plants.

I paused at the small rosebush. It was still damaged—wilted and slumped against the soil. The same plant I’d tended to once before.

The gardener knelt beside it, grumbling as he tried to dig around the roots. He barely noticed me, focused on his task.

"What happened to the water?" I asked softly.

He blinked, distracted. "I forgot. Let me go get it."

I nodded, waiting until he disappeared around the corner.

My heart thudded as I knelt beside the rosebush. Gently, I cupped its fragile stem in my hands.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, brushing my fingers over the leaves.

Something warm buzzed in my chest, and then—without warning—a soft golden light bloomed from my palms. It surged gently through me, through the plant, like sunlight breaking through shadow.

The petals began to lift.

The leaves straightened.

Before my eyes, the rosebush bloomed again—healthier than before, more vibrant, glowing with life.

My breath caught. It felt like magic, but I didn’t question it. I just moved to the next plant, pretending to inspect it as the gardener returned.

He stared, blinking in surprise. "That’s... strange. It looked half-dead a second ago."

I offered him a small smile, pretending like I had no idea what he was talking about. But others were walking nearby now, and he said nothing more.

The warmth inside me dimmed again as I turned and made my way back into the house.

I didn’t make it far.

I paused at the corner of the hallway, freezing at the sight before me.

Kiel was standing with Michelle.

Talking.

And then—God, it hurt—she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He didn’t step back. He didn’t stop her.

He just stood there.

Like he was used to it.

Like it meant something.

My stomach twisted, nausea rising.

I stepped back before I could be seen, turning and running before the tears had a chance to fall.

I knew I was being ridiculous. I knew I shouldn’t care. But it felt like every part of me had been thrown into a storm and no one was coming to catch me.

Kiel had chosen Michelle.

He had made his choice without ever saying a word.

And I... I was never going to be enough.