Origami Around
Acquired Stardust
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
★
Keni
No title available
Xuebing Du
titsay
blake kathryn
we're not kids anymore.
h
Kiana Khansmith
$LAYYYTER
roma★
NASA
wallacepolsom
styofa doing anything
almost home
cherry valley forever
Janaina Medeiros
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Austria
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
@mistyshane30
── ❀ NAV!
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ she/her. sagittarius. lesbian. twenty. istj. baby hag
Tip Jar 🤗
Main: AO3. Letterboxd. TikTok. Instagram.
Claimed anons: 💫☕🐰🧜🏻♀️
AAA edits:
Don't you want someone crazy like me, babe?
‘Cause all I seem to do is get in my way…
And I will try to fix you~
Masterlist:
Agatha Harkness x Reader
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Masterlist)(NSFW)
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 33: Part 2)
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” — Aristotle
Word count: 8.3K
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Subtle angst, Sexual tension, Mild language
A/N: Hi everyone!
I honestly can’t believe this is the last one and there’s no next chapter after this. Thank you so much for a whole year of support, for reading this fanfic, and for staying with me until the end. I love you guys so much!
I’ll still be writing more fics, but for now I’m going to take a long break since I’m still really busy with trainings.
Btw, if you guys ever need anything or just want someone to talk to, don’t be shy to message me on Insta or TikTok. I’m more active there than here. My socials are pinned on my profile, so you can find them easily.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this final chapter!!💜
❀ NAV!
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Masterlist)
(Please read it here, guys, since my fic can’t be transferred here in full anymore. It says I may have reached the block limit or something, I’m not really sure. I just started posting on Tumblr again, so I didn’t know there was a new update to the app.)
AO3 link : You Were Never Mine to Lose
Taglist: @buttercandy16 @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @hannah-0730 @starryjeongyeon @atlasimagines @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @darlingaura @upsidedowndanvers @iiiheartwomen @cocoever @morgananyx @wifeofmanymilfs @lowlyjelly @ughidunn0 @chromiumv @langeskovstg1
Is it true they banned Tumblr in your country?
Hi anon!
No, it’s not true that Tumblr is banned in the Philippines. I’m still able to use it just fine right now😄
Hellou :3
I love your writing and especially your fic "you were never mine to lose" ♡ I just reread everything and I am even more in love with it now. Consider me on the floor and bowing to you!!!
So I have seen, you probably will post an update for YWNMTL on Sunday *cue exciting scream* I missed this so much and now with this knowledge?!?!?! How HOW am I supposed to survive the days until then? I won't be able to concentrate on ANYTHING else!
Do you know how many chapters it will have? I know the masterlist is written until chapter 31, but I have a feeling that there might be more 😅
Anyway, have a lovely middle of the week and an even more lovely rest of the week ♡
🧜🏼♀️
Hi🧜🏻♀️!!
I’m so sorry I only got to read this now, there were a lot of anon messages and yours got buried. I just found it while cleaning my inbox. I’m really sorry😭
Awww, you’re so sweet🥺 thank you so much for reading and even re-reading my fic. I appreciate it more than you know. You guys are the reason I keep writing, so thank you for staying and supporting me even when updates take so long🥹
Sorry again for the delays, I’ve just been really busy with trainings lately. But I promise it’ll be worth it!
Today, I’ll finally be posting Part 2 of Chapter 33👀 I’m really excited for you all to read it, and I hope you’ll like the ending I made for Agatha and Y/N
Thank you again so much and I love you guys!!!🤧💜
via
Tag game!
Search up these words on your Pinterest and select the first image~
Here's mine:
@y0ur-valent1ne @crushmyprettyheart @ra1ning--candies @flotieclouds @fawnedupon @damsel-understresss @draculaura-irl-btw @piennightfever @purgedcvt @mary-0n-a-cr0ss @senketsuaakochan @astralovesrugs @n0t-ad0red @pinkgutsblr2 @boreddddddddddddddddddddd @sicklysweet420 and anyone who wants to join~
tysm for the tag @cokekittyx, here's mine xxxx
@heartmadebyangels @dishwashingmisandrist @katieron @gr4ve-angel-th0ughts @riacain @dolli33 @pinkmary123 @lila-mania @mvalenkr @red-rahf-lolita
Thanks @1pinkypoet for the tag!! I loved this sm!! ♡♡
@cupcakesparkleunicorn @lila-mania @angelllove333 @anglkissss @axeedoll @ginevra-roman0 @girlrottinginmyroomallday @myiconislizzygrant @mayjailerjumpropequeen
tysmmmm @mvalenkr for the taggg !! here’s mineee :D
@strawbeyyies @p0lkaroid @utterlyobsessedwitheverything @the-boook-thief @lildolliesdream @kinggkyla @yawnxswirly
tysm @cupcakesparkleunicorn for the tag!! 🤗 here’s minee xxx
@aubaudee @actually-an-angel @actuallyseraphix @myversionofblogging @whimsyassunicorn @wistriverside @tamiiblogs @itsallwaitingthereforyou @coconutglaze @vanillalifes-blog @babybutterflybree
ty for the tag @p0lkaroid , here's mine♡
Idk if it matches my aestethic😅
@aubaudee @hoetmess @gir1bloggerwhisperss @c1ty-0f-angels @girlnotgoneyett @girlygirlxoxosstuff @sera-ph1na @pumpkinpatchpoet @lipgloss-blogxx @teen-bitch @iamlia @polkadollyy
Ty for tagging @coconutglaze 🦢 here come mine
@lovinababyy @ultraviolence1angel @twirlotus-blog @perks-of-being-chinese @dreamyunicornsworld @glitterandrainbowsxx @keirajane21
thank u for tagging me @lipgloss-blogxx
here’s mine🤍🤍
@softva @lightoftoday @lovyel @blessedcvnt @angelicbaby999 @sprkljmprpequeen @angelicdotted @laladoll7 @sugarplunxo @pearlescntxx @belaarchives @warmvanillasblog @angelicababysmallworld @sad-girl-555 @sweetcunts-blog
@cutebabydeersalma
thx for tag babee @ultraviolence1angel 💋
here's mineee
I think it suits my aesthetic!!
@lizzygrantdoll @cherryy777sworld @justmelsblog @el1enaa @an09dolliee @entriesbyabi @fallen1vamp @wh0cels @lacehysteria @eldestdaughter2009
@justagirldebbie @mazzysstar @misslayla2 @mitskilover0001 @dietlace @babydollcinnamon @babydollangel1 @babybutterflybree @laceandlavendersworld @lanadelreyhowyougethatway @sparklejumpropee @sparklypinkangel @gir1bloggerwhisperss @marinaandthefuckers @priscillawinehouse @pr3scriptionprinc3ss @pinkmary123 @pinklipglitter @pinkprincessunicorn444 @pinkfashionkilla @veronaxoxx @angelscryinglitter @angeldreamgirlforever @2pretty4littleliars @girl1nterruped @strawberrydoll67 @pixiestixk @strawberryvodk4 @mistkissz @dietlace @daydreamz333 @kir-4 @misslayla2 @anglkissss @lipstickstainedcigarette @lizzyl1sbon
Ty for tag @cherryy777sworld
@glossedpersonax @divinebitch16 @diariesofthebrunnette @glowbunni @dollreality @sofeeefifofum @sofffbunny @sparklylatte @sillyprincessmermaid @fataleangell @whymarr
ty for the tag @gir1bloggerwhisperss 🫰🏼🫰🏼🤍
ts kinda cute chat 😳
@deadlovedove @sprxnklez @k4nes-kutsey @luvwebmeli @motherethelxx @sleepybrunettes-posts @jesuisluce @valeissleepingchart @luvmmrisa @c1ty-0f-angels @sweetgreenteasining @pretty-sparkle-bomb @ang3l-in-the-sn0w @dacraziestmacy @555unicornangel @sugarpinkdolly @barbsploitation @lluvday @l0lilie @girlseether
tysm for the taggg @sofffbunny <3
this is mineee it's lowk very mismatched but accurate so it's fine loll
@directedbyalice @akilegirl @l0v3lyf4wn @anagelxx @cornishpixiedreamgirl @l1vv-izien @sunnydili @sunbleachedflyinnebraska @lanacodedgals-blog @lanadelreyhowyougethatway @miserablypolitequeensworld @sadeyescryprettytears @sleepygirlsia
tyyy for the tag, i love tag games!
this is so me actually, esp the pink and brown. very neapolitan
tags: @peachychailatte @voidbunn111 @softokn @itgirlby24 @melaninegirlt @lettersfromalana @pinkblingedbarbie @lacyandbunny @xionvlog @chosobigkimcheeks @cookiswirlxoxo @urladystardust
Thank you so much for the tag @sunnydili 💗
@angeljeaned @aubaudee @aubreyloveskisses @brn4die @coconutglaze @dollscentrose @gir1bloggerwhisperss @immaenigma @lavenderdiary0 @maraudersfanforever @natashalierushmanovanoff @panncakesposts @thestcnems
this is so cute!!! thank u so much for the tag @urladystardust 🫶🫶🫶🫶
this is giving such mixed vibes but it is also so me 😭😭😭😭
Tags- @maya-melted @softdrvp @chocolatteyum @lightbleusie @feralbunny02 @laceith @arielthemusical @littled0llsworld @cherrysoull @affectionatealbatross @aubreyloveskisses @sleepyycupk4 and anyone who wants to join 💜
Thank you so muchhh for tagging @lavenderdiary0 💕, the french fries are iconic 🫂
Yk I'll take it ✋️🤚
Tags: @ninus9607 @filmedbyharkness @htaylorsversion @spacecadetss @chosobigkimcheeks @coquette-corpsie @lizziescigar @laceandtears
Thank you so much for tagging me @lightbleusie
We got the same animal, that’s cute! I honestly love black cats so much. Anyway, here is mine.
I love this trend sm lol
Tags; @tethereddomme @beekneelsformommy @mommyownsmee @warpdrive-witch @filmed-souls @somedumbbitches
Thanks for tagging me, @filmedbyharkness. You’re the best.
I kinda fuck with it. I enjoyed this so fucking much.
Tag List: @reallovebyagathaharkness @meiwan @mistyshane30 @no-phrogs-in-hats @not-so-secret-nerd @d-z20 @lunargrrrl
Thanks for tagging me, @warpdrive-witch🥰
Mine is kinda accurate😄
I really enjoyed this, tysm!!!
Taglist: @buttercandy16 @covenofagatha @transboyswitchytales @harknessxo @evesfallen @stellacherryfairy @livelaughloverio
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 33 : Part 1)
“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.” — Taylor Swift, Paper Rings (2019)
Word count: 2K
Warnings: Subtle angst, AAAAHHHHHHHHH
Valentine’s Day feels ordinary.
Almost too ordinary.
Agatha leans against the doorway while you’re fixing your sleeve. That quiet smile is there—the one she only wears when she’s sure about something.
“Dress nicely,” she says. “I made reservations.”
You glance at her through the mirror. “Reservations?”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Thought we could make it special this year.”
There’s something in her tone. Calm. Steady. You don’t question it.
The drive is peaceful. Her hand rests on your thigh the way it always does, thumb brushing absent patterns like muscle memory. The city lights blur past the window. She’s quieter than usual, but not tense. Just… focused.
When the car stops, you assume it’s just another restaurant.
Until you walk in.
It’s a private room.
Soft lights. Closed doors.
You step forward—
And stop.
Wanda stands near the back, already teary.
Next to her is Jen, practically vibrating with excitement. Lilia stands composed but emotional, hands clasped in front of her. Alice gives you that knowing, soft smile that tells you she’s been holding this in for weeks.
Your family is there.
Your friends.
And in the center—
Valentina and Nicky.
Dressed up. Standing too straight. Trying not to smile too hard.
Your heart starts racing.
You turn slowly.
Agatha is already looking at you.
There’s no teasing smirk. No playful arrogance. Just something open. Almost raw.
Valentina walks toward you first. Nicky follows close behind.
Between them—
A small velvet box.
Your hands begin to shake before you understand why.
“We helped pick it,” Valentina says, trying to sound serious and failing.
Nicky nods. “Mom was really nervous.”
A breath leaves your chest that sounds almost like a laugh.
Then movement.
Agatha is lowering herself onto one knee.
The room falls silent.
And for a split second, it feels like two years ago again. That courtroom. That fear. That tight, suffocating dread that you were about to lose everything.
But this time—
You’re not losing anything.
You’re choosing it.
Agatha takes the ring from the kids gently, her fingers brushing theirs like she’s grounding herself.
Then she looks up at you.
“I have stood in courtrooms less nervous than I am right now,” she admits softly, and a small ripple of laughter breaks the tension.
Her voice steadies.
“Two years ago, I was terrified of losing my family. I thought everything I loved was about to be taken from me.”
Her eyes don’t leave yours.
“I didn’t realize that in the middle of all that fear… I was being given something instead.”
She swallows.
“You.”
The word lands heavy.
“You stood next to me when it was ugly. When it was loud. When it would have been easier to walk away. You loved my children like they were yours. You protected them. You protected me.”
Valentina reaches for your hand.
Nicky squeezes your other one.
Agatha’s voice softens.
“You didn’t just stay. You built a life with us. A home. Something steady. Something safe.”
She takes a breath that trembles just a little.
“I don’t want to keep saying ‘someday.’ I don’t want to keep introducing you as just my partner. I want to choose you. Every day. Out loud. In front of everyone.”
Her thumb brushes the ring.
“Will you marry me?”
There’s no long silence.
Because you’re already crying.
Not the scared kind. Not the desperate kind.
The relieved kind.
Valentina whispers, “Please say yes.”
You laugh through tears.
“Yes,” you say. “Of course yes.”
Agatha exhales like she’s been holding that breath for two years.
She slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly.
The room erupts. Wanda is openly crying. The kids cheer. Your friends clap. It’s loud and warm and overwhelming in the best way.
Agatha stands, and without thinking, you wrap your arms around each other. Her forehead rests against yours—soft, steady, familiar. Everything about her feels like home, like it was always meant to be this way.
When she kisses you, it’s not rushed. Not anxious. Not desperate. It’s gentle, patient, and exactly what you’ve been waiting for, even if you didn’t know it. Every look, every touch, every quiet moment you’ve shared leads up to this.
Afterwards, you just stay like that, looking into her eyes, teary and speechless. You don’t know what to say—your heart is too full, your mind too overwhelmed—but it’s a good kind of overwhelmed.
“OMG, power couple of the year!” Jen shouts playfully from across the room. Lilia chimes in, grinning, “I called it! I said this would be your ending. The chemistry you two had before—wow. Even when you fought, everyone knew something was there.” Alice laughs and nods, agreeing with Lilia.
Wanda smirks at the group. “You guys are late to the news—I knew about this way before you.”
Jen laughs. “Yeah, yeah, Wands,” and Alice and Lilia laugh with her.
The party blurs into background chatter. You, Agatha, and your friends are sitting together, laughing and teasing, when Agatha leans back with a playful grin.
“You guys want to know a little secret?” she says, glancing at everyone. “Y/N has liked me… for a long time. That’s why all those little arguments used to happen. Sometimes it’s just her trying to get my attention, teasing me, making sure we’d have something to talk about.”
Your friends gasp and laugh, teasing spilling over the group. You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but it’s impossible not to smile. Agatha laughs quietly at your reaction, and the warmth of her gaze hits you straight in the chest.
“Of course,” she says softly, her tone playful but knowing, “I’ve known for a while too. I mean… I kind of had an idea from the start.”
The group bursts into laughter and playful teasing, and you feel that warm, soft glow—the kind that comes from being fully seen, fully known, and fully loved.
Meanwhile, Valentina and Nicky are wrapped up in their own conversation, quietly sharing bites of food and little jokes. The night hums with easy laughter, casual chatter, and that familiar, comfortable kind of joy that comes from being surrounded by friends who feel like family.
Eventually, the kids start nodding off, their soft breathing filling the quiet spaces of the room. You and Agatha decide to head home. The driveway is quiet, the house behind you still echoing with faint laughter. In the car, she drives, hands steady on the wheel, and you sit beside her, unable to stop staring.
She glances at you and smiles softly, and you feel that familiar, surreal disbelief. This is real. Agatha Harkness—your dream, the person you once thought you’d only ever imagine—is here. She proposed. You said yes.
Your younger self would never believe this. If you’d told her this was your future, she would have laughed. And yet, here you are, driving home together, quiet and content, feeling like everything you’ve ever wanted has finally caught up with you.
The months that followed passed in a soft blur—lazy Sunday mornings, quiet nights curled up on the couch, small arguments that ended in laughter, gentle teasing that never got old. The kids grew used to the rhythm of your little household, Valentina and Nicky filling the rooms with laughter, and every night ended the same way: with you and Agatha, hands intertwined, hearts quiet but full. Life felt ordinary and extraordinary all at once, just the way it should.
And then, almost before you knew it, the day had arrived. The wedding. The culmination of everything that had quietly built between you—the glances, the teasing, the late-night conversations, the kind of love that had crept in without either of you realizing it.
Morning light spills softly through the windows, warm and golden, dust motes floating lazily in its glow. Your chest feels full, your heart racing—not with nerves, exactly, but with the quiet disbelief that this is really happening. Today, you’re marrying Agatha Harkness.
You stand at the edge of the aisle, taking a deep breath. The soft murmur of the guests fades into the background the moment you see her. Agatha is radiant, poised, but there’s a small tremor in her fingers that betrays the weight of the moment. Her eyes meet yours, and everything else disappears—time slows, the world narrows, and all that matters is her.
When the officiant asks you to speak your vows, your chest tightens. You glance at her, and she nods gently, just a tiny movement, but enough to steady you.
“Thank you, Agatha,” you begin, voice shaking slightly but full of love. “I feel so lucky… I never imagined that the person I once dreamed of and prayed for would be standing here in front of me, about to become my wife. Thank you for choosing me, even when I’ve been impulsive, stubborn, and… well… when we fight. I love everything about you, even the little things—like when you sing—that’s actually how I fell for you in the first place.”
You chuckle softly, trying to hide the tears threatening to spill. “I promise you this: nothing will ever change. Every day, I will make sure you feel how much I love you… along with our kids, Valentina and Nicky. Thank you to them too, for letting me be part of your lives, for accepting me as someone who truly loves and cares for you. I love you, Agatha. Now, always, and forever.”
Agatha’s lips tremble slightly as she takes a breath, stepping closer. Her hand finds yours, fingers brushing, grounding you both.
“Dear Y/N… I know you’re probably thankful that I’m finally becoming your wife,” she chuckles softly, and you can’t help but smile through your own tears. “Well… that’s me,” she adds, a teasing glint in her eyes, before her tone softens completely. “But kidding aside… thank you, Y/N. When I felt lost, you were the one who helped me find myself, who reminded me of my worth, and who showed me what love really is. I know I didn’t always deserve the love you gave me, and I ignored it for so long, even when I kind of had an idea.”
Her voice catches, and she swallows hard, fighting the tears. “Because you never admitted it, and it was… overwhelming, in the best way. You’ve loved me so fully, so patiently, and sometimes I’d wonder—why me? I’m not easy. I can be stubborn, harsh… and yet, you’ve always chosen me. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, to realize that you were the one for me. But now that I do… I will never let you go. I love you so much, Y/N. And today, with everyone watching, and with God as our witness, I promise to love you, cherish you, and choose you—always.”
The room is quiet, everyone holding their breath, but all you see is her—your home, your heart, your person. You squeeze her hand, eyes glistening, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. Valentina and Nicky watch from the front row, smiling shyly, sensing the love radiating between you.
When the officiant pronounces you married, Agatha leans down slowly, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s gentle, teasing, intimate. Your laughter mingles with the quiet sniffles of tears held back, and she rests her forehead against yours, breath warm, eyes soft.
“Finally,” she whispers.
“Finally,” you echo, letting the words stretch into the infinite, savoring this moment that you’ve both waited for your whole lives.
The applause rises around you, loud and bright, but it feels far away. You and Agatha are already walking back down the aisle together, fingers laced, shoulders brushing, moving like you finally have nowhere else to be.
She glances at you, eyes shining, a quiet laugh slipping out of her like she still can’t believe this is real. You squeeze her hand gently, grounding both of you in the moment.
There’s no tension sitting in your chest. No waiting for something to go wrong. Just the steady warmth of her beside you. The way your steps fall into rhythm. The way her thumb traces slow circles against your skin without thinking.
Everything feels softer now.
The noise fades. The world settles.
It’s just her hand in yours.
Her smile.
The quiet understanding in the way she looks at you.
And after everything it took to get here—every storm, every doubt—you don’t feel overwhelmed.
You just feel home.
Taglist: @buttercandy16 @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @hannah-0730 @starryjeongyeon @atlasimagines @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @darlingaura @upsidedowndanvers @iiiheartwomen @cocoever @morgananyx @wifeofmanymilfs @lowlyjelly @ughidunn0 @chromiumv
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 32)
Synopsis: Finally, a quiet that feels like home.
Word count: 2.4K
Warnings: Subtle Angst, Mentions of alcohol consumption
You’re sitting in the van, looking out the window, watching buildings and trees blur past. Agatha’s voice is beside you, talking to Matt about something legal you’re not really listening to. You hear the words, but none of them stick.
Today’s the trial.
Today’s the day everything could change.
Your chest feels tight, like you forgot how to breathe properly. You try to tell yourself to calm down, but your mind won’t stop. What if that dream wasn’t just a dream? What if this is how it really ends? The thought makes your stomach twist. You don’t want to think about losing. You don’t even want to imagine it—but it keeps creeping in anyway.
You don’t realize how far you’ve drifted until you feel Agatha’s hand slide over yours.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”
You hesitate, then force a small smile. “I’m okay,” you say. It comes out softer than you expect. “Just… nervous. That’s all.”
She doesn’t look fully convinced.
“But that’s normal,” you add, squeezing her hand back. “I mean, today matters. Of course I’m nervous.” You take a breath. “But it’s going to work out. We’re going to win. The kids—” You stop yourself, then continue more firmly. “We’ll get custody. I know it.”
Agatha nods, like she’s holding onto your words. She squeezes your hand, then leans in and presses a quick kiss against it. When she pulls back, she smiles at you.
It’s a reassuring smile. Or at least, it’s meant to be.
Because when you really look at her, you see it—the tension in her eyes, the worry she’s trying not to show. The same fear you’ve been carrying all morning.
Neither of you say anything after that. You just stay like that, hands linked, as the van keeps driving toward the courthouse.
You’ve barely stepped out of the van when the nerves hit harder.
The courthouse looms in front of you—cold stone, tall steps, too real. Your heart is pounding, and when you glance at Agatha, you know she feels it too. Her jaw is tight, shoulders stiff. You reach for her hand without thinking, squeezing once.
She looks at you, exhales, then squeezes back.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “Let’s go.”
Inside, the air feels different—thicker. The sound of footsteps, murmured conversations, papers being sorted. Matt is already in motion, talking to Agatha’s lawyer, reviewing documents, reminding everyone of the order of proceedings. You stand there quietly, nodding when needed, trying to keep your breathing even.
Then you see Ralph.
He’s already seated across the room with his lawyer, leaning back like he owns the place. When his eyes land on you, his mouth curves into that familiar, infuriating smile. The one that makes your skin crawl. Your stomach tightens instantly.
For a split second, you’re back in the kitchen.
His voice low.
His body too close.
That sudden movement—his fist lifting just enough to make the threat clear.
You look away before the memory can settle.
Agatha notices. “Hey,” she murmurs, angling her body slightly toward you, like she’s shielding you without making it obvious. “Don’t look at him.”
“I’m fine,” you whisper back, though your heart is racing.
The bailiff calls the room to order. Everyone stands as the judge enters, and the noise fades into silence.
The divorce hearing goes first.
It’s… strange. Clinical. The end of a marriage reduced to paperwork and legal language. The judge asks a few questions, confirms the filings, reviews the agreement. Ralph answers without emotion. Agatha’s voice is calm when she responds, even though you can feel how tense she is beside you.
“The divorce is granted,” the judge says.
Just like that.
Agatha’s fingers twitch in yours, but she doesn’t look back. Neither do you.
Then the custody hearing begins.
This part takes time.
Agatha’s lawyer lays everything out carefully—her role as a parent, her schedule, her involvement, the stability she provides. Matt submits records. School reports. Statements. The judge listens closely, occasionally asking questions.
Ralph’s lawyer pushes back, tries to poke holes, but it feels rehearsed. Hollow.
Then your name is called.
Your heart drops.
You stand slowly, palms damp, legs tight with nerves. As you walk forward, you feel Ralph’s eyes on you, heavy and deliberate. The memory creeps back uninvited—him leaning close, his voice low as he warned you.
The judge asks you to speak. Your voice shakes at first, but you steady it. You talk about the kids. About routine. About safety. About what you’ve witnessed. You keep it factual. Measured.
Then Agatha’s lawyer stands.
“Isn’t it true,” he says, “that you’ve had hostile interactions with Mr. Bohner in the past?”
Your chest tightens.
“Yes,” you answer honestly.
“Can you explain?”
“There was an incident in the kitchen,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “He raised his fist at me. He didn’t hit me—but the threat was clear.”
Ralph shifts in his seat.
“And were there other forms of intimidation?” the lawyer presses.
You take a breath. This is the part that scares you the most.
“Yes,” you say quietly. “He threatened to release private images of me and Agatha. Images that were never meant to be shared.”
The room goes still.
Agatha stiffens in her chair. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look away.
The judge looks directly at Ralph. “Is this true?”
Ralph opens his mouth, then closes it. His lawyer steps in, scrambling for words.
The judge makes a note.
When you’re told to sit down, your legs feel weak. Agatha reaches for your hand immediately, her grip firm, grounding you back into the room.
“You did good,” she whispers. “You were brave.”
The judge reviews everything in silence. Pages turn. Pens pause.
Finally, she looks up.
“Based on the evidence presented,” she says evenly, “this court awards primary custody to Ms. Harkness.”
For a second, you don’t register it.
Then it hits.
Agatha’s breath breaks. She squeezes your hand so hard it almost hurts. Her eyes fill, and she presses her forehead briefly to yours, right there in the courtroom.
“We won,” she whispers, voice shaking. “We won.”
Behind you, you hear movement—Ralph standing abruptly, frustration sharp and audible. You don’t turn around.
You don’t need to.
As you walk out of the courtroom together, hand in hand, your chest finally loosens. The fear is still there—quiet, lingering—but it no longer owns you.
For once, reality didn’t follow the nightmare.
By the time you get home, the adrenaline has started to wear off.
The door barely closes behind you when Valentina and Nicky come rushing out of the living room.
“Mom!”
Agatha doesn’t even get a word out before they crash into her. She drops her bag, kneels instinctively, and wraps her arms around them like she’s afraid they might disappear if she lets go. She holds them tight—too tight—and for a second, she doesn’t say anything at all.
You watch quietly from behind, chest aching.
“I missed you,” Agatha finally says, her voice breaking just a little. “I missed you so much.”
Valentina looks up, confused but smiling. “You just left this morning.”
Agatha lets out a shaky laugh and presses her face into Nicky’s hair. “Yeah,” she says. “I know.”
Wanda is standing off to the side. When her eyes meet yours, she doesn’t ask. She just looks at you—really looks.
You give her a small, tired smile and nod once.
That’s all she needs.
Her shoulders drop in relief.
Agatha straightens after a moment, wiping her eyes quickly. “Okay,” she says, trying to sound normal. “Go change your clothes. We’re going out to eat.”
Nicholas’s eyes widen. “Like… celebrate?”
Agatha nods. “Yeah. Celebrate.”
The kids don’t ask why. They just cheer and run upstairs, already arguing about what to wear.
The house feels quieter after that.
Wanda walks over and pulls you into a hug without saying a word. It’s firm and grounding, like she’s holding you together more than congratulating you.
“I’m so happy for both of you” she murmurs.
Agatha exhales and sinks onto the couch, her body finally letting go of the tension. You sit beside her, letting the quiet stretch between you for a moment.
“I didn’t think I’d make it through that,” she says softly, rubbing her face.
You glance at her. “You held it together.”
Her eyes stay on the floor. “I wasn’t holding it together. I was just… moving through it, because I had to.”
She shakes her head, voice barely above a whisper. “You know? I was praying the entire time. Like—actually praying. Not even full sentences. Just… ‘Please. Please. Please.’”
She swallows, and for a moment you can see the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on her. “I don’t even remember the last time I prayed like that.”
She looks down at her hands, then up at you. “I really thought I was going to lose them.”
You reach for her hand and lace your fingers together. “You didn’t,” you say quietly. “We won.”
Agatha squeezes your hand hard. “I know,” she says, her voice thick. “I just—thank God. Honestly. I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”
A few minutes later, footsteps thunder down the stairs. Valentina and Nicholas appear, freshly changed, talking over each other.
Wanda grabbed her things while Agatha took her keys from the counter.
Outside, you and Wanda were already helping the kids into the car. You held the door open, guiding one inside and fixing a seatbelt with a soft smile.
Agatha locked the door behind her and walked over, watching the small chaos with something warm in her eyes.
“Everyone settled?” she asked gently.
The drive is easy. Soft music playing in the background, the kids arguing over something small and unimportant. Wanda laughs from the passenger seat. Agatha shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed.
You nodded. “Yeah. All good.”
By the time you reach the restaurant, it already feels lighter.
Dinner is loud and a little chaotic in the best way. The kids won’t stop talking—everyone trying to be heard at once. Wanda keeps poking fun at Agatha, and Agatha pretends to be offended, but she’s smiling. Not the polite kind. A real one. The kind that slowly spreads and stays.
At some point, you stop talking and just watch them.
It hits you how different this feels from earlier. This morning, you could barely breathe. Your hands wouldn’t stay still. You kept imagining the worst—empty seats, quiet car rides, the look on Agatha’s face if things didn’t go your way.
You were already preparing yourself for heartbreak.
But now there’s Nicky loudly negotiating for extra dessert. Wanda reaching over to fix someone’s collar. Agatha leaning back in her chair, eyes moving from one kid to the next like she’s making sure they’re still there.
Like she still can’t quite believe it.
As the night stretches on, the energy softens. The kids start to droop, voices not as sharp as before. The teasing fades into easy conversation. It’s calmer now, warmer somehow.
The happiness isn’t loud anymore. It’s steady.
Agatha’s here.
The kids are okay.
And for once, you’re not waiting for something bad to happen.
Outside, the air is cool. The kids shuffle ahead, Wanda guiding them toward the car. Agatha lingers beside you. Close. Comfortable.
Her hand slips into yours, almost shy about it. You hold on without thinking.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
You don’t ask for what.
You already know.
You don’t notice when the shift happens. One day bleeds into the next. Court dates turn into school drop-offs. Headlines turn into grocery lists.
And somehow—
Two years pass.
The first few weeks after the hearing are the hardest.
Wanda goes back to New York not long after everything settles. The house feels quieter without her, but lighter too. Like the storm already moved through and left the air clean behind it.
A month after the custody decision, Ralph starts showing up.
At first it’s random. Late nights. Early mornings. He stands outside the gate looking… wrecked. Unshaven. Clothes wrinkled. Sometimes clearly drunk. He bangs on the gate, calls Agatha’s name. Yours too.
You never open it.
One night, he makes a scene—shouting that you ruined his family, that Agatha chose you over him. The kids hear it. That’s what makes your hands shake.
That’s the only time you call the police.
After that, something changes.
Agatha goes to him. Not out of love. Not out of guilt. But because the children deserve better than chaos outside their home.
She meets him at his place. Talks to him calmly about visitation. Tells him, plainly, that if he wants to see his kids, he needs to fix his life first. No more drinking. No more scenes. No more showing up unannounced.
She tells him she wants this agreement to work—not for him, not for her—but because she doesn’t want Valentina and Nicky to grow up without a father if it can be helped.
Ralph agrees. Says he’ll try. Says he’ll do better.
It takes months, but he does.
The visits start supervised. Four times a week. Structured. Careful. Awkward at first. But steady. And eventually, the tension fades into something manageable. Not perfect. Just functional.
Meanwhile, Agatha stays Governor of Washington.
If anything, public support grows. People rally behind her after the hearing. There are weeks where your names are everywhere—news panels, online threads, speculation about the divorce. Cameras outside the gate. Commentators dissecting your relationship.
But you both refuse to feed it.
No interviews. No statements. No dramatics.
Eventually, the headlines move on. They always do.
Your company grows too. Expands faster than you expected. There are business trips you can’t avoid—meetings in other states, sometimes overseas—but you always come back home.
Most days, you’re here.
At the kitchen counter helping with homework. On the couch during movie nights. Listening to Valentina ramble. Watching Nicky pretend he’s not sleepy.
And you and Agatha—
You’re still you.
Still teasing each other in the kitchen. Still sharing looks across crowded rooms. Still reaching for each other without thinking.
The only difference now is that you don’t have to hide.
You don’t have to lower your voices in public. Don’t have to pretend you’re just standing a little too close. Her hand in yours at events isn’t scandal—it’s normal.
And through every holiday, every quiet morning, every chaotic evening, you’ve been building something steady. Something real.
The chaos has quieted. The routines have settled. The house feels lived in, steady.
Not perfect.
But yours.
Taglist: @buttercandy16 @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @hannah-0730 @starryjeongyeon @atlasimagines @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @darlingaura @upsidedowndanvers @iiiheartwomen @cocoever @morgananyx @wifeofmanymilfs @lowlyjelly @ughidunn0 @chromiumv
You Were Never Mine To Lose update when? 🥹🥹 (no rush, just excited 😍)
Hii! So about the update for You Were Never Mine to Lose, I’m really sorry it took so long before the new chapter. I’ve just been super busy with college life. I’m a Marine Transportation student, so we’ve been having a lot of training lately, which kept me really occupied.
Again, I’m sorry for the wait, but I promise there will be a new update tomorrow! And on Valentine’s Day, I’ll be posting the finale of the fic. I really hope you’ll like the ending hehe. I’m so excited for all of you to read the new updates!
Thank you so much for your patience and for continuously supporting me and my story. And also, Happy Anniversary to You Were Never Mine to Lose! Today marks the day I first published this fic. I honestly never expected it to grow this much.
Again, thank you all so much. Love you all💜
Art by shannanna
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 31)
Synopsis: Is this the end?
Word count: 10K
Warnings: Angst, Unresolved emotions, Mild language, 🤡
The courtroom felt colder than it should have.
Not the kind of cold that made you shiver, but the kind that seeped into your chest — slow, heavy, suffocating. Every sound echoed too sharply: the scrape of chairs against marble, the low murmur of attorneys exchanging final whispers, the soft, nervous cough of someone in the gallery. You could hear everything and nothing all at once.
Agatha sat beside you, perfectly still. Her posture was immaculate, the kind of composure only she could maintain even when her world was splintering. Her hair was pulled back neatly, a single loose strand brushing her cheek. You wanted to reach over and tuck it behind her ear, but your hands stayed folded in your lap, useless and trembling.
Across the aisle, Ralph looked relaxed — or at least he wanted it to seem that way. His suit was pressed too sharply, his expression practiced. The smug curl of his mouth was a quiet weapon, a reminder that he had learned how to wear calmness like armor. His lawyer leaned close, muttering something you couldn’t hear, and Ralph gave a low, humorless laugh that made your stomach twist.
You could feel Agatha tense beside you.
Without thinking, your fingers brushed against hers under the table.
Her hand was cold.
She didn’t pull away.
The judge entered, and the room stood. Chairs scraped back in unison, a dull chorus of obedience. The bailiff’s voice rang out, formal and detached, announcing her presence as though it were divine. When the judge finally sat, everyone followed, the air falling into a silence so sharp it buzzed.
“Be seated,” she said.
You sank into your chair, heart beating hard against your ribs. The judge’s face was unreadable — professional, distant, but her eyes moved with a certain weight as she flipped through the pages before her. You counted each turn like it was a countdown to something you couldn’t escape.
Agatha exhaled softly. Her hand left yours to rest atop the documents on the table, nails pressing into the paper as though she could anchor herself through sheer force. You glanced at her profile — that familiar strength drawn tight around fear. You’d seen her stand against cameras, critics, entire rooms of men who tried to talk over her. But here, now, she looked small. Human. Breakable.
“Proceeding to the matter of Bohner versus Harkness,” the judge began, voice clear and deliberate. “The court has reviewed the evidence submitted regarding the petition for dissolution of marriage and the accompanying motion for custody of the minors.”
The words were clinical, but each one landed like a strike.
Your throat ached. You didn’t dare blink.
The lawyers rose in turn — first Ralph’s, then Agatha’s — offering final remarks, rehearsed and razor-sharp. Ralph’s attorney spoke with the easy arrogance of someone who thought he had already won. He emphasized stability, consistency, and the environment. He used those words like a chant.
“Your Honor, the respondent has demonstrated his ability to provide a stable household, consistent schooling, and uninterrupted parental involvement. The petitioner’s recent lifestyle changes, including her demanding political position and the introduction of a new romantic partner, indicate an environment that may be disruptive to the children’s emotional well-being.”
You felt the color drain from your face.
You were the “disruption.” The unspoken scandal in a pressed suit.
Agatha’s lawyer countered calmly — deliberate, composed — reminding the court of Ralph’s history of intimidation, the threats, the verified footage. Every sentence was measured, but you could hear the fatigue in his tone. It was the sound of fighting uphill.
And through it all, the judge just listened, expression steady, eyes occasionally flicking toward the pile of exhibits.
You caught Ralph’s gaze once. He didn’t look away. There was something almost gleeful in his stillness, as if he already knew how this story ended. You forced yourself to face forward again, gripping the edge of your chair until your fingers hurt.
Time moved strangely in court — too fast and too slow at the same time. You could hear the faint click of the court reporter’s keyboard, the rustle of suits shifting, the sound of Agatha’s slow breathing beside you. Every tiny detail felt magnified because you were terrified to focus on what mattered most.
At one point, Agatha reached for a pen but missed, her hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You covered it gently, guiding the pen into her palm. She didn’t look at you, but her fingers lingered for a second too long.
Then the silence came again — the heavy, anticipatory kind. The lawyers returned to their seats. Papers were aligned, folders shut. The judge removed her glasses and set them carefully on the bench.
Your stomach dropped.
This was it.
Agatha straightened, eyes fixed on the woman who now held her future — and her children’s — in her hands.
You wanted to whisper something. Anything. “It’ll be okay,” maybe. But your throat refused to cooperate, and the words turned to ash before they could leave your mouth.
The judge cleared her throat. “Before the court renders its decision, I want to acknowledge the gravity of this case. Both parties have presented compelling arguments, and the evidence reveals a complicated, deeply personal situation.”
Her tone was sympathetic, but distant — like she was already softening the blow.
Agatha’s breathing hitched.
You stared at the polished wood of the table, counting the faint reflections of light that danced across it. Your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t look up. You didn’t want to see her face when it happened.
The judge continued, words slow and deliberate. “The primary consideration in any custody dispute is the best interest of the children. The court must weigh not only material stability, but emotional consistency and the potential impact of each parent’s current lifestyle on the minors’ development.”
Your chest tightened. You could already feel where it was heading, and every instinct in you screamed to stop it — to stand up, to plead, to do anything but sit there and wait for the world to fall apart.
Agatha’s hand found yours again under the table. Her grip was firm this time, desperate. You squeezed back, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes.
The judge paused, scanning the pages before her. “After thorough review of all submitted evidence, witness statements, and testimonies,” she began, “this court finds that the marriage between Mrs. Agatha Harkness and Mr. Ralph Bohner has suffered an irretrievable breakdown. Therefore, the petition for dissolution of marriage is hereby granted.”
The words landed heavy — a clean cut to what had once been a whole life. You felt Agatha’s breath falter beside you, the faintest sound of release, though it wasn’t relief. It was the kind of exhale that came with endings — sharp, unfinished, trembling.
But the judge didn’t stop.
She turned the page, eyes scanning the next section with precision. “Now, as to the matter of custody…”
Your chest tightened.
“Both parties have expressed deep affection and concern for the welfare of their children,” the judge continued. “However, the court’s duty lies in determining the arrangement that best ensures the minors’ long-term stability and emotional security.”
“Mr. Bohner has provided consistent evidence of a structured home environment and steady parental availability,” she continued, eyes flicking briefly toward Ralph. “In contrast, Mrs. Harkness’s professional obligations and recent personal circumstances indicate an ongoing transition that, at this time, may not offer the same degree of stability.”
You felt Agatha’s hand tighten in yours, but she didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
“The court does not question the petitioner’s devotion to her children,” the judge said. “However, the evidence suggests that the minors have spent the majority of their recent time in the respondent’s care, and the disruption of that routine could be detrimental to their emotional well-being.”
A pause.
Then the sound that would echo in your head for days:
“Therefore, the court awards sole physical and legal custody of the minors to the respondent, Mr. Ralph Bohner.”
The words landed like a blow. The air seemed to vanish from the room. Agatha’s body went rigid beside you. Her fingers slipped from your grasp.
You stared at the judge, willing her to take it back, to say something else, but she was still reading — her voice steady, merciless.
“Mrs. Harkness shall be granted visitation at the discretion of the respondent, provided such contact does not interfere with the children’s schooling or established routines.”
At the discretion.
It meant he decided.
It meant Ralph — the man who had threatened, humiliated, and hurt her — now had the power to decide whether she could see her own children.
Your vision blurred.
You couldn’t tell if it was from disbelief or heartbreak.
The judge kept speaking — legal phrases that barely made sense anymore. Something about “joint consultation rights regarding medical and educational matters,” “review after six months,” “recommendation for family counseling.” The kind of bureaucratic language that turned lives into paperwork.
You glanced at Agatha. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even blinking. She just sat there, eyes forward, lips pressed together so tightly they’d gone pale. The faint tremor in her chin was the only sign she was still holding herself together.
Across the aisle, Ralph leaned toward his lawyer, nodding once, his expression unreadable — composed, but victorious. You hated that look. You wanted to tear it off his face.
The judge looked between them one last time. “This decision is made with the best interests of the minors in mind. The court hopes both parties will exercise maturity and cooperation moving forward.”
And then it was over.
The gavel struck once — a sound so final it rang in your chest.
You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Agatha’s shoulders were shaking now, barely visible, but you felt it in the space between you — that silent, breaking thing you didn’t know how to fix.
You reached for her hand again. This time, she didn’t take it.
The car ride home felt longer than it should have. The city lights slid past the window in streaks of gold and white, but you barely noticed them. All you could hear was the faint hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires meeting uneven asphalt. The rest was silence—thick, unyielding, the kind that made every second drag like an hour.
Agatha sat beside you, back straight, one hand resting on her knee, the other pressed against the car door. Her reflection in the glass was unreadable—still, distant, almost ghost-like. You glanced at her once, twice, hoping she’d meet your eyes, but she didn’t. She just stared straight ahead, her jaw tight, her breathing slow and deliberate, as if each inhale was something she had to remind herself to do.
You wanted to reach for her—to say something, anything—but she wouldn’t even look at you. Her jaw was set, her gaze steady on the blur outside. You told yourself it was valid. Of course it was. She had just lost the children she’d fought for. If you were her, you’d probably hate you too.
So, you sat there instead, watching the space between you grow wider with every passing mile.
When the car finally pulled into the driveway, Agatha unbuckled her seatbelt without a word. The soft click of metal sounded louder than it should have. You followed her inside, your steps uncertain, your chest heavy.
Wanda was waiting in the hallway, her face brightening when she saw you both—until she caught sight of Agatha. The brightness faded instantly.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “You’re back. How did it—”
“Are the kids asleep?” Agatha’s voice cut through hers—flat, even, but trembling beneath the surface.
Wanda blinked. “Yeah. Just about an hour ago.”
Agatha nodded once. No thank you, no explanation. She brushed past her, footsteps quick, almost desperate, heading straight for the stairs. The air shifted with her absence, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a silence that felt heavier than before.
You stood there, frozen in the doorway, hands at your sides. You wanted to follow, to tell her something that might make it easier, but the look on her face earlier—how detached she’d seemed—still lingered in your mind.
Wanda stepped closer, her expression soft. “What happened?”
You swallowed hard, your voice breaking on the first word. “The divorce went through.” You paused, forcing yourself to breathe. “But she didn’t win custody. The kids stay with Ralph.”
Wanda’s lips parted in shock, then pressed together, as if she didn’t know what to say.
You let out a shaky breath. “She lost them because of me, Wands. Because I stayed. If I had just walked away when he told me to, if I hadn’t been here, maybe—maybe the court wouldn’t have seen her life as unstable.”
“Y/N…” Wanda started, but you kept going, your words tumbling over themselves.
“I should’ve listened. He said I’ll ruin her, and he was right.”
Wanda reached out and pulled you in before you could finish, wrapping her arms around you tightly. You didn’t even realize you were crying until your voice cracked against her shoulder.
“Hey,” she murmured, holding you firmer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare blame yourself for his cruelty. You didn’t take her kids. He did. The system did. Not you. It’s not your fault.”
You wanted to believe her, but the guilt had already rooted itself deep inside you. Because in the silence of that house, with Agatha upstairs and the world falling apart around her, it felt like you were the reason she’d lost everything that mattered.
And that thought alone was enough to break you.
After a while, the sound of your own breathing became too loud. You stayed in the kitchen with Wanda until the silence settled again—until the ache in your chest started to burn instead of sting. When you finally went upstairs, the house felt heavier, each step on the staircase slow and hollow.
You passed by the kids’ room and noticed the door slightly open, a faint sliver of light spilling into the hallway. You hesitated, then took a quiet step closer.
Agatha was inside.
She sat on the edge of the bed, still in her clothes from court, shoulders trembling. Valentina and Nicky were both asleep, faces soft and peaceful beneath their blankets. Agatha just sat there, watching them with an expression that broke something inside you—grief, tenderness, and guilt all tangled into one unbearable silence.
You saw her lift a trembling hand to cover her mouth as tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t make a sound, but the pain in her face was louder than anything you’d ever heard.
You didn’t move. You didn’t want to interrupt—this quiet, private heartbreak that wasn’t yours to touch. But your chest ached so much it hurt to breathe. You bit your lip, trying to hold it in, but the sight of her was too much.
So you stepped back.
You left before she could see you, before your presence could make it worse.
In your shared bedroom, the emptiness hit you all at once. You sat on the edge of the bed and buried your face in your hands.
Wanda’s words echoed faintly in your head—It’s not your fault.
But it didn’t feel true.
It felt like it was.
You didn’t realize how long you’d been crying until the room blurred. Your hands shook, and your breathing came out uneven, the kind that made your chest ache more than your eyes. Every time you tried to stop, another sob forced its way out.
You pressed your palms against your face, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over — to no one, to everyone. The sound was muffled, but the weight behind it wasn’t.
You didn’t hear the door open at first. Not until her voice — quiet, low, trembling — broke through the noise.
“Y/N?”
You froze.
When you looked up, Agatha was standing by the doorway. Her eyes were red, the skin beneath them swollen. You could still see the faint streaks where tears had dried. The sight of her like that made something twist inside you.
She took a hesitant step closer. “Hey,” she whispered. “What’s—”
But then she saw your face — tear-streaked, eyes raw, chest heaving — and whatever she was about to say died in her throat. “God,” she breathed, rushing forward. “Hey, hey…”
You tried to wipe your face, but it was useless. “I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice breaking mid-word. “I’m so sorry, Ags. I didn’t mean to—”
“Y/N,” she said, kneeling in front of you, her hands reaching for yours. “What are you apologizing for?”
You couldn’t meet her eyes. “For all of it. For staying. For being stupid enough to think that— that loving you wouldn’t destroy everything you had.”
Her expression shattered. “What?”
“If I had just left when Ralph told me to, maybe none of this— maybe the kids—” You stopped, choking on the words. “He was right. I ruin things. I ruined this.”
Agatha’s breath caught. Then she shook her head hard, almost angry. “Don’t you dare say that.”
You tried to pull your hands away, but she held them tighter. “Y/N, look at me.”
You did, reluctantly — and what you saw wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak.
“Do you really think I blame you?” she asked quietly. “After everything?”
“I don’t know,” you whispered. “You couldn’t even look at me. The whole way home, you— you wouldn’t speak, and I thought…”
Agatha exhaled, the sound trembling. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” she said softly. “I was just… trying to hold myself together.”
You blinked.
“I lost them,” she said, voice breaking around the words. “My kids. I sat there while a stranger decided that I wasn’t good enough to be their mother. And I couldn’t even scream. I had to sit still and nod and pretend I understood.” Her voice cracked, raw and low. “I wasn’t mad at you, Y/N. I was just—lost.”
You stared at her, chest tight.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against your knees, her fingers clutching yours like she was afraid you’d disappear. “I didn’t mean to shut you out,” she whispered. “I just… didn’t know how to breathe without breaking apart.”
Something in you cracked wide open. You reached for her, pulling her close, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as she let out a shaky breath against your chest.
“I thought you hated me,” you murmured.
“I could never,” she said, voice muffled. “Not you. Never you.”
You both stayed like that for a while — no words, just quiet breathing and trembling hands. The air felt different now, softer somehow, even through the ache.
After a long moment, Agatha pulled back slightly, her hand coming up to cup your face. Her thumb brushed a tear from your cheek. “You’ve been crying so hard,” she whispered.
You gave a weak laugh. “I thought I lost you.”
Her lips parted, eyes glimmering. “You didn’t.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just… I felt useless. I didn’t know how to make it better.”
“You don’t have to fix it,” she said gently. “You just have to be here. That’s all I need.”
You let out a shaky breath, searching her face. “How can you say that? You lost so much because of me.”
Agatha’s gaze softened. “No. I lost because the system is cruel. Because Ralph knows how to twist things. Because I chose to fight for something good and the world decided I didn’t deserve it. But you—” She shook her head, her fingers sliding into your hair. “You didn’t take anything from me. You gave me something I didn’t think I could have again.”
“What’s that?” you whispered.
“Peace,” she said simply. “Even for a little while.”
The tears came again, silent this time. You leaned forward until your forehead rested against hers.
“I love you,” you murmured, the words barely audible.
“I know,” she whispered back. “And I love you too. That’s why this hurts so much.”
Her hands slid down to your shoulders, grounding you. “We’re going to be okay, Y/N,” she said softly, like she was convincing herself too. “It doesn’t feel like it now, but we will be.”
You wanted to believe her. And maybe, for the first time that night, you did.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty anymore. It was heavy, yes, but it felt shared. Real.
Agatha moved to sit beside you on the bed, your hands still intertwined. Neither of you spoke again for a long time. The only sound was your breathing slowly finding rhythm with hers.
Outside, the wind brushed softly against the windows. Somewhere down the hall, the floor creaked — a reminder that the house was still alive, still holding you both.
And in that quiet, with her fingers tracing slow circles against your palm, you realized that even in loss, even in heartbreak, there was still something left between you that the world couldn’t take.
Not yet.
Not ever.
The morning came too softly.
You woke to the sound of birds somewhere outside the window, faint and far away, and the empty stretch of sheets beside you was already cold. For a few seconds you thought maybe she’d just gone to the bathroom — until the smell of something cooking drifted in from downstairs.
You sat up slowly. Your eyes still burned from crying. The sunlight that spilled through the curtains felt too gentle for how heavy everything inside you was.
Downstairs, the house was quiet. Wanda’s door was still shut. The kids’ shoes were gone from the hallway.
Agatha was in the kitchen.
She was standing by the stove, hair tied back loosely, sleeves rolled up, a faint line between her brows as she flipped something on the pan. The sound of sizzling oil filled the air.
She looked tired — not destroyed like last night, but hollow in the kind of way that comes after too much emotion, when you’ve run out of ways to break.
You hesitated in the doorway. “You’re up early.”
She turned, startled, then gave a small nod. “The kids had school. I dropped them off.”
You glanced toward the clock. “You didn’t wake me.”
“You needed rest,” she said simply, eyes flicking back to the stove. “You barely slept.”
You stepped closer, the smell of toast and coffee wrapping around you both. “You didn’t either.”
“I couldn’t,” she murmured. “My mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything.”
You sat at the counter, hands wrapping around the mug she slid toward you. “It feels unreal,” you admitted. “Like it happened in someone else’s life.”
Agatha gave a small, humorless laugh. “I wish it did.”
For a while, there was just the sound of cooking. She moved mechanically — plating food she probably didn’t even want to eat, pouring coffee for herself. When she finally sat across from you, she just stared at the steam rising from her cup.
You spoke first, quietly. “Have you thought about… what you’re going to tell them?”
Agatha blinked. “The kids?”
You nodded. “Yeah. They’re smart, Ags. They’ll notice something’s changed.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know.”
You hesitated. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t even know where to start, Y/N. They’re still so young, but they’re not stupid. They’ll ask questions, and I don’t want to lie to them.”
“Maybe just tell them the truth,” you said gently. “That you and Ralph aren’t together anymore, but you both love them.”
Her mouth twitched. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”
“It’s not,” you admitted. “But they’ll understand, in their own way.”
Agatha stared at her hands. “How do I explain that a court decided their home isn’t with me anymore? That I can only see them when their father decides it’s convenient?”
You didn’t have an answer. You just reached across the table and placed your hand over hers. She didn’t pull away.
“I’ll figure it out,” she whispered. “I have to.”
The moment was fragile — almost peaceful — until her phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a name you both recognized immediately.
Ralph.
Agatha froze, eyes narrowing. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, grabbing the phone.
“Ralph,” she said flatly.
His voice came through the speaker, far too calm. “Good morning, Aggie.”
She didn’t bother hiding her irritation. “What do you want?”
“Just checking in,” he said, mock-pleasant. “Wanted to make sure you got home safe last night.”
Agatha’s jaw tightened. “Cut the act.”
He chuckled. “Touchy. You should be thanking me, really. I could’ve made that courtroom scene a lot uglier.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Relax,” he interrupted smoothly. “I just called to talk logistics. About the visitation arrangement.”
You tensed. Agatha glanced at you, then pressed the speaker icon so you could both hear.
Ralph’s tone shifted, casual but sharp underneath. “Since the kids will be staying with me, I’ll allow visits. A few times a month, maybe more, depending on my schedule.”
Agatha’s voice was low, trembling with restraint. “You don’t get to allow me—”
“Oh, but I do,” he cut in, almost cheerful. “That’s how the ruling works, remember? My discretion.”
The room went cold.
“And,” Ralph continued, “I’ve been thinking. I’m not unreasonable, Agatha. If you want to see them whenever you like, I can make that happen. I’ll even put it in writing.”
Agatha frowned. “What are you getting at?”
A pause, then his voice dropped lower. “End things with Y/N.”
You froze.
Ralph went on, smooth as poison. “You sign something — a private agreement between us. You walk away from her or she walks away from you, permanently, and you can visit the kids as often as you want. No restrictions, no drama. But if you don’t…” He gave a small sigh, like it pained him. “Well. Then we’ll just stick to the court’s decision. My discretion.”
Agatha’s face went pale. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m giving you a choice,” Ralph said. “Think it over, Aggie. For the kids.”
She opened her mouth, fury in her eyes — but the call went dead.
The silence that followed was deafening. You could still hear his voice echoing in your head.
Agatha stared at the phone, disbelief melting into rage. “That bastard.” She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “He’s using them. He’s using my children like bargaining chips.”
You rose too, trying to calm her. “Agatha—”
“No,” she snapped, pacing. “He’s vile. I knew he’d pull something, but this—this is low, even for him.” Her voice shook as she gripped the edge of the counter. “He thinks he can control me forever.”
“Ags,” you said softly, stepping closer. “Please, breathe.”
She braced her palms on the counter, knuckles white, trying to steady herself. “He can’t do this. He can’t—”
“Call your lawyer,” you urged.
Her hands trembled as she grabbed the phone again, scrolling to the contact and pressing call. You stood beside her while she explained, voice tight but composed. Every word was clipped, desperate.
When she finally hung up, she looked even more exhausted.
“What did they say?” you asked carefully.
“Nothing,” she said bitterly. “There’s nothing they can do. The court gave him the discretion. Until custody is reviewed, it’s his word against mine.”
You exhaled slowly. “So he really can—”
“Yes,” she interrupted, voice breaking. “He can deny me access. He can keep them from me unless I—” She stopped, choking on the rest. “Unless I give you up.”
You didn’t realize you were shaking until her eyes met yours.
“This isn’t fair,” you whispered.
“Nothing about this is,” she said softly. Her voice trembled just a little before she exhaled and leaned back against the counter, one hand pressed to her forehead. “He knows exactly where to hurt me.”
You didn’t speak. There was nothing you could say that didn’t sound useless.
Agatha swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the floor. “He doesn’t deserve them,” she whispered. “Or me. Or any of this.”
You stepped closer. “He won’t keep it forever,” you said, trying to sound sure.
“I know,” she murmured. Her voice was distant, hollow. “But right now… he has control. And I can’t let him use it to hurt them.”
You nodded, your throat tightening. You knew what she meant. You always did.
Agatha rubbed her palms together, her gaze flicking toward the window — the same one that overlooked the backyard where the kids used to play. “Maybe there’s still a way,” she said quietly, like she was trying to convince herself. “Maybe we can find something. Some loophole. Anything.”
You wanted to believe her. You really did.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe.”
She nodded once, quick and unsteady. “There has to be, right? There’s always something if we look hard enough.”
“Right,” you said again, forcing a small smile.
But you didn’t believe it anymore.
Not really.
Because even as she spoke, you could see it in her eyes — the flicker of fear, the weight of defeat hiding beneath the hope she was trying to hold onto.
And all you could think was that maybe the only way left to help her was the one you didn’t have the heart to say aloud. Maybe the only solution left was you leaving.
You stared down at your hands, nails pressing into your palms, and told yourself not yet. Not now. She didn’t need that pain too — not tonight.
Agatha let out a shaky breath, breaking the silence. “Let’s just eat,” she said finally. “Before it gets cold.”
You nodded. “Okay.”
You both sat back down at the table. The plates were still untouched, the food already cooling.
She picked up her fork, moved the food around, then set it back down. “We’ll figure something out,” she said softly, her tone fragile but hopeful. “We always do.”
You looked at her, managing a small nod. “Yeah,” you whispered. “We will.”
But the truth sat heavy in your chest. You didn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth anymore. You wanted to — you wanted to with everything in you — but hope had started to sound like a language you were forgetting.
So you just watched her instead. The way she blinked fast, like she was holding herself together by sheer will. The way she tried to smile through it.
And in that moment, you made yourself a quiet promise — one you knew would break you completely.
If this was what it took for her to be with her kids again… then you’d be the one to step away.
You swallowed the thought down like something bitter, forced a weak smile, and picked up your fork.
“Yeah,” you said again, your voice low and almost steady. “We’ll find a way.”
The rest of the day passed in pieces.
You tried to move like everything was fine — helped Wanda with the dishes, pretended to scroll through emails, smiled when Agatha asked if you wanted tea — but the ache never left your chest. It sat there, constant and cruel, like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.
You could tell she was trying too. Agatha laughed when she didn’t need to, made small talk about the weather, asked if you wanted to go for a walk later. But every time you looked at her, you saw the same thing you felt — exhaustion pretending to be peace.
And beneath it all was the silent truth you couldn’t ignore — she’d lost the kids, and no amount of coffee or conversation could make that right.
By late afternoon, she’d gone upstairs to take a call, leaving you alone in the living room with nothing but your thoughts and the soft ticking of the clock. You stared at the empty staircase for a long time, wondering how something so quiet could hurt so much.
You thought about the court. The verdict. Ralph’s voice over the phone this morning — smug, calm, cruel.
You thought about the way Agatha’s face broke when she realized what he was demanding.
And then you thought about the kids — Valentina’s shy smile, Nicky’s endless questions, the way Agatha’s entire world seemed to orbit them.
You wanted to help. God, you wanted to fix it. You’d have done anything if it meant putting that light back in her eyes. But no matter how many times you circled it in your head, everything led back to the same answer. The same impossible choice.
Ralph’s voice echoed in your memory.
You hated him for saying it. But worse, you hated that part of you believed him.
Maybe this was the only way.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, you lay awake beside Agatha. Her breathing was slow and steady, one arm draped loosely across your waist. You stared at the ceiling, counting the faint patterns of light filtering through the curtains. Your chest felt tight — too full, too heavy — as if your heart already knew what you were about to do.
Carefully, you slid out from under the blanket. Her arm fell away, her fingers brushing the sheets where you’d been. You froze, waiting to see if she’d stir. She didn’t.
You whispered, “I’m sorry,” so softly even the dark barely heard it.
Then you slipped out of the room.
The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt sacred. You padded barefoot to the kitchen, each step echoing faintly against the tiles. You didn’t bother turning on the lights — just enough moonlight through the window to find your phone on the counter.
Your hands trembled as you dialed his number.
The line rang once. Twice.
Then his voice came — calm, amused. “I was wondering when you’d call.”
You froze, fingers gripping the edge of the counter.
He laughed softly. “Come on, don’t act surprised. You think I don’t know how people like you think? Always trying to play hero, to ‘do what’s best.’”
“Shut up,” you said, voice low.
“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “So what if you’re right?”
There was a pause. You could almost hear his smile.
“I’m calling because I want what’s best for Agatha and the kids,” you said. “If that means leaving, then fine. I’ll leave.”
“Ah,” Ralph murmured, satisfaction dripping from his tone. “Finally, someone thinking straight.”
You gritted your teeth. “Don’t twist this. I’m doing this for them. Not for you.”
He chuckled. “Of course. You’re the martyr. The noble one. You really think that makes you better?”
You bit down the anger bubbling in your throat. “You said if she walks away from me, she gets to see her kids. I’ll make sure that happens.”
“Good,” he said smoothly. “It’s the right decision. You’re fixing what you broke.”
Your breath caught. “I—”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he interrupted. “If you hadn’t come along, she’d still have her family. You think those kids don’t know why their parents split? You’re the reason their mother’s in pieces.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to keep your voice steady. “You broke that family long before I did.”
“Maybe,” he said, casual, cruel. “But you helped finish the job.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then Ralph sighed, fake sympathy coating every word. “Still, I suppose I should thank you. You’re finally doing the right thing.”
“Don’t thank me,” you whispered.
“I just did,” he said, almost cheerful. “For once in your life, Y/N, you’re making a smart choice.”
You felt your stomach twist. His words didn’t sting because they were cruel. They stung because a part of you believed them.
You didn’t say anything else. You just ended the call. The sharp click of the line disconnecting was the only sound in the room.
For a few seconds, you just stood there, staring at the dark window. You could see your reflection — pale, tired, defeated.
And then a voice broke the silence behind you.
“Please tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I heard.”
You spun around.
Wanda stood in the doorway, hair messy from sleep, wearing one of her oversized shirts. Her eyes were sharp despite the hour.
“Wanda—”
“Don’t,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “Please tell me you’re not actually doing this.”
Your throat went dry. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” she snapped. “Y/N, this is insane. You can’t—”
“I have to,” you cut in, voice shaking. “This is the only way.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, her voice trembling now. “You’re walking straight into his trap. That’s exactly what he wants.”
You took a shaky breath. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why—”
“Because he’s right!” you burst out, louder than you meant to. The sound echoed through the kitchen, harsh and broken. “He’s right, Wanda. None of this would’ve happened if I’d just left when I should’ve. She wouldn’t have lost the kids. She wouldn’t have had to fight so hard for something that was already hers.”
Wanda’s eyes softened. “Y/N—”
“I can’t keep being the reason she’s hurting,” you said, voice breaking. “If walking away gives her even a chance to be with them again, then that’s what I’ll do.”
She shook her head slowly. “You’re blaming yourself for his cruelty. Don’t you see that?”
“I don’t care,” you whispered. “He’s winning anyway. At least this way, she gets something back.”
Wanda stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You love her. You think leaving her will fix this? It’ll destroy her.”
You swallowed hard. “She’ll be fine. She’s strong.”
“She’s strong because you’re there,” Wanda said fiercely. “Take that away, and she’ll break. Is that what you want?”
You closed your eyes, tears welling again. “Of course not. But she’ll heal if it means seeing her kids again.”
“Even if it means losing you?”
You didn’t answer.
Wanda sighed, voice gentler now. “Please don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t let him win like this.”
“It’s not about him,” you said quietly. “It’s about them. About her.”
“You can’t sacrifice yourself for everyone else,” she said.
“Yes, I can,” you whispered. “Because I love her that much.”
Wanda stared at you for a long time. Then her shoulders slumped. “You already called him. You already decided.”
You nodded slowly.
“God,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “This is so wrong.”
“I know.” You took a deep breath. “But it’s the only solution I have left.”
She was silent for a while. Then she looked up, eyes glassy. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll be the one to tell her,” she said softly. “Don’t let her hear it from anyone else.”
“I will,” you said. “Tomorrow.”
“And I won’t say anything,” she murmured. “Not until you do.”
You felt a lump rise in your throat. “Thank you.”
Wanda stepped forward and pulled you into a hug — firm, grounding, the kind that felt like it was trying to hold you together.
“You’re making a mistake,” she whispered against your shoulder.
“I know,” you said quietly. “But sometimes the right thing feels like one.”
When she finally let go, she wiped her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
You managed a weak smile. “I know.”
Wanda sighed, brushing her hand against your arm. “Just… be gentle when you tell her.”
You nodded. “I will.”
Then she turned and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you alone again.
You leaned against the counter, staring at your phone — still lit with the last call log.
You knew Wanda was right. Every part of you knew it. But you also knew that you couldn’t keep watching Agatha lose pieces of herself because of you.
So you stood there, the kitchen swallowed by quiet again, and told yourself that this was love — not the easy kind, not the happy kind, but the kind that bleeds quietly in the dark so someone else can have the light.
And when you finally went back upstairs, slipping beneath the covers beside her, you didn’t sleep.
You just lay there, watching her breathe — memorizing the rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers curled toward you even in her dreams, as if she already knew what tomorrow was about to take away.
The night stretched on, heavy and sleepless.
Your body stayed still beside hers, but your mind refused to rest. It kept replaying everything — Ralph’s voice, Wanda’s warnings, every word that had led you here — looping over and over until it all blurred together, leaving only one truth that hurt too much to name.
By the time the first traces of dawn brushed the curtains, your eyes were still open. The world outside was barely awake — muted, gray, soft. Agatha was still asleep beside you, face buried against the pillow, her breathing steady.
You slipped out of bed slowly, careful not to wake her. The floor was cold beneath your feet.
In the bathroom, you turned on the tap and splashed water on your face. The chill didn’t help. You looked up at your reflection — tired eyes, pale lips, hair a little messy. You didn’t look like someone about to ruin their own life. You looked normal. You hated that.
You brushed your teeth, went through the motions, like if you acted ordinary enough, maybe the universe would give you a different morning.
But it didn’t.
You walked downstairs and made yourself coffee. The machine hummed softly, the smell filling the kitchen. It should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.
You took your mug and stepped out into the garden porch. The air outside was cool, the sky washed in early gold. You sat down on the wooden chair, placed the mug beside you, and just stared.
At nothing.
At everything.
The trees, the fence, the faint hum of a passing car — they all blurred together, a quiet backdrop to the noise in your head. You tried to think of how to tell her. How to say I’m leaving you, but it’s for your good without breaking her completely.
You already knew she’d fight it. You already knew she’d beg you not to. But you also knew she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t get to see her children. And that was something you couldn’t let happen.
Hours must have passed. The sun had climbed higher, the air turning warm. The coffee by your side had gone cold, untouched. You stared at it for a while before finally standing up.
You went back inside, poured the cold coffee into the sink, and set the mug down without washing it. You didn’t care. You didn’t have the energy to care.
Upstairs, the house was still quiet. You pushed open the door to your room. Agatha was still asleep, curled slightly toward your side of the bed. The sight of her — so peaceful, so unaware — made your chest ache.
You lay down beside her, careful not to make too much noise. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and she stirred, eyelids fluttering open.
“Hey,” she murmured, voice heavy with sleep. “You’re up early.”
“Bathroom,” you lied softly.
She nodded, still half-asleep. “Okay.”
Then, wordlessly, she reached out and pulled you closer. Her arms wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself breathing in her scent — warm, familiar, heartbreakingly safe. You hugged her back, closing your eyes for a moment longer than you should have.
For a few precious minutes, you let yourself forget.
The rest of the morning moved in quiet rhythm.
The kids woke up, sleepy and cheerful. You and Agatha made breakfast — pancakes and scrambled eggs — while Valentina complained about Nicky taking her pencil the night before. The sound of their bickering filled the kitchen, softening the tension that had lived there for days.
You watched Agatha from across the table. She was smiling — tired, but real. She teased Valentina gently, wiped a smudge of syrup from Nicky’s cheek, and for a brief moment, it looked like a normal family breakfast. Like nothing had broken.
You laughed when you were supposed to. You joined the conversation. You helped pack their lunchboxes, reminded them to brush their teeth, tied Valentina’s shoelaces when she asked.
And then the four of you were in the car.
The drive to school was quiet, filled only with the sound of the radio humming softly. The kids chattered in the backseat, talking about some school project. Agatha smiled and answered when they asked her questions, but you could tell her voice wavered when she said, “I’ll see you later, okay?”
When you reached the school gate, the kids leaned in to hug her — quick but tight. “Bye, Mommy,” Valentina said. “Love you.”
Agatha blinked fast, forcing a smile. “Love you more, sweetheart.”
You stood beside her as they walked off, holding hands, their backpacks bouncing with each step. She didn’t move until they disappeared inside.
Her hands were trembling when she turned away.
“Let’s go home,” you said softly.
She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah.”
The drive back was heavier. You wanted to reach out, to hold her hand, to say something comforting, but you didn’t. She needed space to breathe, and you didn’t trust your voice not to break.
When you got home, Agatha dropped her bag on the couch and sighed. “I’ll make coffee,” she said quietly, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Okay,” you said, following her to the kitchen.
You wanted to tell her then. To say I need to talk to you. But before you could open your mouth, her phone started ringing.
Jen’s name flashed on the screen, followed by Lilia and Alice’s in a group call.
Agatha hesitated, then answered. “Hey.”
You heard their voices immediately — loud, worried, familiar. They were asking questions, one after another: What happened? Are you okay? Is it true?
Agatha leaned against the counter, one hand pressing to her forehead as she tried to keep up. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a small laugh. “It’s… a lot, but I’m managing.”
You sat on the stool by the island, just watching her. She looked tired, but she also looked a little lighter — the sound of her friends seemed to comfort her.
You caught a few words here and there. Something about the divorce being confirmed, about the custody decision. About how none of them knew the details because the case was private.
Then Agatha’s tone shifted. Softer. She started talking about you.
You couldn’t hear everything, but you caught enough — she’s been my anchor through all this, I wouldn’t have survived without her.
Your throat tightened.
Her voice wavered when she said your name, but there was warmth there — the kind that only came from love. Still, you could see it in her eyes: that lingering sadness. That quiet grief that even love couldn’t erase.
You stayed where you were, just watching. Watching her laugh a little when Lilia said something teasing. Watching her shake her head when Alice joked that everyone saw this coming years ago.
It should’ve made you happy — seeing her like this, surrounded by your friends who loved her, finally talking about what she’d been hiding for so long.
But instead, it hurt.
Because while she was there, telling stories about how you fell for each other, you were sitting just a few feet away, planning how to walk away from her.
When the call finally ended, Agatha exhaled deeply, smiling faintly to herself. “They’re ridiculous,” she said softly, shaking her head.
You forced a small smile. “They care about you.”
“I know,” she murmured. Then she looked at you, eyes soft. “About us, too.”
You tried to smile back, but your chest ached. “Yeah.”
She reached across the counter and took your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m lucky,” she said quietly. “Even after everything, I still have you.”
You felt your breath catch.
She didn’t know. She didn’t know that you’d already decided to break her heart for her own sake.
You squeezed her hand gently and nodded. “Always,” you said.
And you meant it — even if “always” was running out.
Agatha smiled, then leaned over to kiss the back of your hand before standing. “I’ll check on Wanda,” she said softly. “She’s probably still asleep.”
You watched her walk away, your fingers still tingling from where she touched you.
The house was quiet again. Only the faint echo of her laughter from earlier lingered in the air — soft, fragile, fading.
You exhaled shakily, pressing your hands over your face.
Later, you’d tell her. You’d tell her everything.
But for now, you just let yourself sink into the silence, memorizing every sound of her presence — her voice upstairs, the soft clinking of cups, the life you knew you’d soon have to leave behind.
For a brief, stolen moment, you wished you could stay selfish just a little longer.
Hours passed quietly after that. The day moved without you.
By the time the afternoon light slipped through the curtains, the house had gone still again — warm and heavy, the kind of stillness that felt like holding your breath. Wanda had gone out to run errands, the kids were still at school, and Agatha was upstairs in your bedroom, scrolling absently through her phone.
You stood in the hallway for a long moment, trying to gather the courage that had been slipping through your fingers all day. Every step toward that room felt heavier than the last.
When you finally reached the door, you knocked lightly. “Ags?”
She hummed without looking up. “Hmm?”
You pushed the door open. She was sitting on the bed, hair tied up messily, wearing one of her soft cardigans. Her phone was in her hand, but her eyes were far away — tired, distracted.
“Hey,” you said quietly.
She smiled a little, gentle but distant. “Hey. You okay?”
You wanted to laugh at that — you okay? — but the words just got stuck in your throat. Instead, you walked closer, sitting down beside her on the bed. The space between you was small, but it felt endless.
“Ags,” you began, voice unsteady. “We need to talk.”
That made her pause. She turned to face you fully, her brows furrowing. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
You took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about… everything. About yesterday, about Ralph, about the kids.”
She set her phone aside. “Okay,” she said slowly. “And?”
You looked down at your hands. “And I think… it’s better if I go.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, softly. “What?”
You forced yourself to meet her eyes. “I mean it, Ags. I think I should leave. I think you need to—”
“Stop.” Her voice broke halfway through the word. “No. You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” you whispered. “You need to focus on your kids. You need to be able to visit them, see them, be with them without anyone holding that against you. If that means I have to go, then…” You swallowed hard. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”
She shook her head, eyes already glistening. “Y/N, no. There has to be another way. We’ll figure it out, we always do—”
“There isn’t,” you said softly, cutting her off. “We both heard what he said. The court’s on his side. If leaving means you get to see Valentina and Nicky again, then it’s okay. It’s worth it.”
Agatha’s voice trembled. “You can’t just decide that for us. You can’t—”
“I’m not deciding for us, Ags,” you whispered. “I’m deciding for you. For them.”
She stared at you, eyes filling faster than she could blink them away. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re talking like— like leaving me is some kind of solution.”
“It’s not a solution,” you said quietly. “It’s a sacrifice.”
She let out a broken laugh, shaking her head. “That’s not love, Y/N. That’s punishment. For both of us.”
You looked at her then, and your voice softened. “It is love. That’s exactly what it is.”
Agatha’s shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “Please. We can fight this. We can talk to the lawyers again, appeal, do something—”
You reached out, brushing your thumb against her cheek, wiping a tear before it fell. “You’re a good mother, Ags. The best one I’ve ever seen. You don’t deserve to be kept away from your kids. You shouldn’t have to lose them because of me.”
She grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “Don’t say that. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t take them from me.”
“But I made it harder,” you said. “Ralph made sure of that. He’s using me against you, and he’s winning. I can’t let that happen.”
“Then let him win!” she cried, voice breaking. “I don’t care about him. I care about you. About us.”
You smiled weakly, eyes stinging. “And that’s exactly why I have to do this.”
Her tears fell freely now. “If you walk away, you think that’ll fix everything? You think that’ll make me happy? Y/N, I’ll still lose something. I’ll lose you.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But at least you’ll still have them.”
Agatha shook her head, sobbing quietly. “I don’t want to choose between the people I love.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” you said, voice soft but trembling. “But Ralph’s not giving you a choice. So I’m taking the one thing I can control — me.”
She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely audible. “Is this really what you want?”
You hesitated, then whispered, “Of course not.”
Her lips parted, trembling.
“But it’s what’s right,” you said. “And maybe someday, you’ll understand that.”
Agatha covered her mouth, crying quietly now — the kind of cry that comes from the gut, the kind that hurts to listen to. You pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she broke down against you.
Her hands clutched at your shirt, desperate. “Please, don’t go,” she said through sobs. “Please. We can think of something else. There’s always something else.”
You rested your chin on her head, your own tears spilling over. “Not this time, love. We’ve run out of ways.”
She pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes raw and red. “You can’t just tell me to be okay with losing you.”
“I’m not asking you to be okay,” you said softly. “I’m asking you to let me do this.”
She shook her head violently. “I can’t.”
You took her hands, pressed them to your chest. “You can. You have to. Because tomorrow, I’m leaving.”
Agatha’s breath caught. “Tomorrow?”
You nodded.
“No,” she whispered. “No, not tomorrow. Please, don’t make me wake up without you.”
You brushed a tear from her chin, voice barely steady. “You’ll wake up with the kids instead. That’s what matters.”
Her whole body trembled as she leaned into you, holding on like the world was ending — and maybe it was, in a way.
“Don’t cry,” you whispered, though you were crying too. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
She shook her head against your shoulder. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t act like this is something we can just survive.”
You smiled faintly through the tears. “You always survive, Ags. You always find a way.”
She lifted her face then, eyes full of grief and disbelief. “And what about you?”
You hesitated. “I’ll find my way too.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she said, her voice cracking.
You looked down, tears falling silently. “I’m not. It’ll hurt, but… I’ll be fine. I have to be.”
The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing — uneven, heavy. The sun was dipping lower now, painting the floor with a dim orange glow.
Agatha leaned in and kissed you — soft, trembling, desperate. You kissed her back, slow and lingering, tasting the salt of her tears and your own. When you finally pulled away, both of you were shaking.
“I love you,” she whispered.
You pressed your forehead against hers. “I love you more.”
“Then stay,” she pleaded.
You closed your eyes. “That’s exactly why I can’t.”
Her sob broke the silence again, and this time you just held her, both of you clutching onto something that was already slipping away.
Minutes passed — maybe hours — before her crying quieted into shallow breaths. You stroked her hair gently, whispering, “Shh… it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just breathe.”
Her fingers curled weakly against your shirt, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to breathe without you.”
You felt your heart break cleanly in two. “You’ll learn,” you said, your voice trembling. “For them. For yourself.”
You stayed like that until the light faded, until the world outside turned blue and still.
Neither of you spoke again.
There was nothing left to say — only the weight of goodbye sitting quietly between you, already written in the spaces your hands couldn’t quite let go.
But even that stillness didn’t last.
The air felt strange — too quiet, too heavy. The shadows around you deepened, swallowing the edges of the room. Agatha’s breathing softened against your shoulder, her hand growing limp in yours.
You blinked once, twice. The world seemed to blur.
The silence thickened, unreal, as if the house itself was holding its breath. The air shifted — cold, distant — and the sound of her breath began to fade, slipping away like something you couldn’t reach anymore.
You tried to call her name. Nothing came out.
Then—
A sharp gasp tore from your throat.
You bolted upright, chest heaving, drenched in sweat. The room was dark. Too dark. The sheets were tangled around you, damp and twisted. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe.
The echoes of the dream clung to your mind — the courtroom, Ralph’s voice, Agatha’s tears, the word goodbye still ringing in your ears.
“Y/N?”
You turned, and there she was — Agatha, half-asleep but startled awake, sitting up beside you. Her hair was messy, her eyes wide with worry.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “You were— you’re shaking.”
You stared at her, trying to steady your breathing. “I…” You swallowed hard. “I thought—”
“What is it?” she pressed gently. “Bad dream?”
You looked at her face — here, real. The weight in your chest started to loosen. You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Just… a dream.”
Her expression softened. “Must’ve been a bad one.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you reached for her — desperate, almost trembling — and wrapped your arms around her. She stiffened for a second, surprised, then melted into the embrace.
“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, your voice breaking against her shoulder. “You and the kids…”
Agatha’s hand moved up to the back of your neck, gentle and grounding. “Shh,” she murmured. “You didn’t. We’re right here.”
Your tears came quietly this time, a mix of relief and exhaustion. You clung to her tighter, breathing in her warmth like it was proof that she was real — that this, here, was real.
“It felt so real,” you said, voice shaking. “The court, the custody, you crying—”
“Hey,” she interrupted softly, brushing your hair back. “It’s over now. Just a dream, love.”
You nodded weakly, still holding on.
She kissed your temple, whispering against your skin, “You’re safe. We’re safe.”
The sound of her voice steadied you, pulling you slowly back to reality — the room dimly lit by the night lamp, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the distant ticking of the clock.
You exhaled shakily, your pulse finally slowing.
Agatha rubbed your back in small, soothing circles. “You’ve been under a lot of stress,” she said gently. “Next week’s the final hearing. It’s normal to dream about it.”
“Yeah,” you breathed out, nodding against her shoulder. “Next week…”
She smiled faintly, kissing your forehead. “Don’t think about it now. Go back to sleep, okay?”
You pulled back just enough to look at her — the softness in her eyes, the safety in her arms — and whispered, “I love you.”
Her smile deepened, tired but sincere. “I know,” she murmured. “Now rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
You closed your eyes and leaned into her again. And this time, when sleep came, it didn’t hurt.
Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @buttercandy16 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @hannah-0730 @starryjeongyeon @atlasimagines @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @darlingaura @upsidedowndanvers @iiiheartwomen @cocoever @morgananyx @wifeofmanymilfs @lowlyjelly @ughidunn0
maomao when every important figure in the empire keeps asking for her help
“Your peace is more important than driving yourself crazy trying to understand why something happened the way it did. Let it go.”
— Mandy Hale
It is what it is...
You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 30)
Synopsis: Some storms don’t need thunder to be felt.
Word count: 2.9K
Warnings: Angst, Mentions of alcohol consumption, Mild language
You woke up late the next morning, sunlight already streaming across the empty side of the bed. The sheets where Agatha had been were cold, tucked back neatly, and you figured she’d gone to work hours ago. For a moment you stayed there, staring at the ceiling, trying to will yourself not to spiral again. But the thoughts came anyway. Ralph. His voice. The way his hand nearly rose to strike you.
You forced yourself out of bed, washed your face, and padded downstairs.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you before you saw her. Wanda was in the kitchen, hair pulled back, stirring her mug with the kind of ease that made it feel like she belonged here.
“Good morning, Wands,” you said softly, rubbing your temple.
She turned, smiled warmly. “Good morning. You look like you need this,” she said, lifting the coffeepot slightly.
“God, yes,” you muttered, dropping into a chair.
She poured a cup and slid it toward you. You wrapped your hands around the warmth and tried not to let them shake.
“You’ve got that look again,” Wanda teased gently as she sat across from you.
“What look?”
“The I’m about to spiral for the next three hours look.”
You huffed out a laugh, but your chest tightened. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Wands. Now that Agatha knows, what if Ralph pushes harder? What if he actually leaks the photos? What if—”
“Y/N,” Wanda interrupted, her voice calm but sharp enough to cut through. “You’re overthinking. Agatha isn’t reckless. She won’t let Ralph control her, or you. She’s already ten steps ahead. That man can threaten all he wants, but he doesn’t know who he’s playing with.”
Her certainty steadied you for a second, but only a second. “I know you’re right. But…” Your fingers tightened around the mug. “It feels like no matter what I do, he’s always there. Waiting to ruin everything.”
Wanda reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Hey… you’re not alone anymore. Agatha knows now. We’re here. I’m here.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodded slowly.
By afternoon, you called Matt. You paced the living room as the phone rang, your bare feet brushing against the rug like you couldn’t stay still.
“Y/N,” Matt answered, his tone already alert.
You spilled everything—Ralph’s latest threat, the almost-punch, how Agatha now knew the truth. Words tumbled out of you too fast, but you couldn’t stop.
Matt was quiet for a beat. Then: “Listen to me. You don’t need to panic. If Ralph takes this further, Agatha’s legal team will shut it down—and mine too. We’ll fly out next week. This isn’t the kind of thing we handle over the phone anymore.”
You stopped pacing, pressed your forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Next week feels too far away.”
“I know,” he said gently. “But right now, the best thing you can do is lay low. Don’t reach out to him, don’t give him a single opening. Let him make the next mistake.”
“And if he does?” you whispered.
“Then we’ll be ready.”
His reassurance was solid, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift even after you hung up.
The rest of the evening blurred by — dishes left undone, the lights dimmed earlier than usual, the kind of silence that feels like waiting for something you can’t name.
By the time Agatha finally came home, the house was still. The kids were already asleep, and the quiet that filled the space felt fragile, like it could shatter with a single sound.
She found you in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch with a half-finished glass of whiskey.
“You’re still awake,” she said softly, shedding her coat and draping it over the chair.
“I called Matt today,” you admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. “Told him about yesterday. About Ralph. Everything.”
Agatha walked closer, her presence grounding and intimidating all at once. She sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “Good. I called my team too. They’ll handle it. They said we have the upper hand here.”
“Upper hand?” you repeated, a bitter laugh catching in your throat. “It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m waiting for him to destroy us any second.”
Agatha reached for your hand, lacing her fingers through yours. “He blackmailed you. He threatened you. That puts him in the wrong. We’re not powerless here, Y/N. Trust me.”
Her words were steady, her grip firm, but your voice cracked anyway. “I want to believe you. I do. But I can’t stop thinking… what if this ruins everything we’ve built?”
Agatha turned, cupped your cheek with her free hand, forcing you to look at her. “Then we’ll build it back. Stronger. Together.”
Something in her eyes made you pause—steel and softness all at once. You let yourself lean into her, your forehead resting against hers, her breath warm and steady as if to say: you’re safe, even if you don’t feel it yet.
The days that followed blurred together, a haze of waiting and bracing for whatever came next. Agatha was busier than usual, long hours tucked away in her study with endless calls. Every time you passed by that door, you caught fragments of her voice—measured, clipped, the way she only spoke when she was negotiating something big.
You tried to keep yourself steady for the kids and for Agatha. But your nerves betrayed you. Each time your phone buzzed, your stomach dropped as if it were a warning siren.
By the third day, your own legal team arrived. Matt was the first one through the door, suit jacket folded over his arm, his face set in a firm mask. Behind him came two others—Jessica, sharp-eyed and calm, and Daniel, who carried what looked like three different briefcases. The sight of them made your living room feel smaller, as though your personal world had suddenly been invaded by strategy and paperwork.
“Alright,” Matt said after greetings were exchanged, settling at the dining table with an ease that made it feel like his war room. “Let’s go over everything from the beginning.”
You told them everything—again. The threats, the photos, the way Ralph’s fist nearly struck you. By now, the words felt rehearsed, the story tired and heavy on your tongue, but you still found yourself trembling. Jessica’s pen scratched against her pad the whole time, her head nodding every few minutes.
Agatha joined the table too, her posture straight, her expression unreadable. Every so often, her hand brushed your knee under the table, grounding you in silence.
The next few days moved differently—measured, deliberate, every hour claimed by preparation.
Matt and his team settled into the house like they belonged there, their files spilling over the dining table until it looked more like a war room than a family space. Agatha’s lawyers arrived not long after, and soon the two teams merged into one humming force of strategy. At first, there was a quiet friction—different firms, different methods—but it didn’t last. By the second day, they were trading documents back and forth, voices overlapping as they pieced together the best way to dismantle Ralph’s threats.
You caught fragments in passing: Jessica pointing out inconsistencies in Ralph’s financial records; one of Agatha’s senior lawyers murmuring about child custody precedent; Matt flipping pages and saying, “No, this is stronger—we lead with this.”
Agatha drifted between both groups with the kind of authority only she could wield, slipping from one conversation to the next, her sharp questions cutting straight to the heart of things. At night, you found her still hunched over her laptop, notes scribbled in the margins of legal briefs, her jaw tight with focus.
And then there was you. “You need to understand every angle,” he said one morning, sliding a folder toward you. “If Ralph pushes, we push back harder. And you’ll be ready for it.”
Despite the planning, despite the walls of paper and the certainty in their voices, the fear never fully left you. It sat heavy in your chest, waiting. And when the waiting broke, it came sharp.
Later that day, Agatha pulled you aside into her office. She closed the door with more force than necessary, then leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
“I spoke to Ralph this morning,” she said flatly.
You froze. “What?”
“I told him the divorce is moving forward. No more delays. No more negotiations. It’s happening.”
The words were sharp, but the flicker of relief in your chest was quickly replaced by dread. “And how did he take it?”
Agatha gave a humorless laugh. “How do you think? He yelled, he threatened, he swore it wasn’t over. Same old Ralph.”
You rubbed your temples, the beginnings of a headache pressing in. “Ags—”
She pushed off the desk and came closer, her hand brushing yours. “Don’t. Don’t second-guess me. He doesn’t get to keep us in limbo anymore.”
Her steadiness grounded you for a moment, though the storm inside you didn’t quiet completely. It just waited — low and restless — beneath the surface.
By the next day, the house had settled into its usual quiet. You were alone in the living room when your phone buzzed. For a second, you thought it was one of the lawyers. Then you glanced at the screen — an unknown number, no caller ID.
And the message:
Big mistake. If you had just left, none of this would be happening. Now it’s going to get ugly.
Your throat went dry. You didn’t need a name to know who it was. The phrasing, the venom—it was Ralph.
For a few seconds, you just stared at the screen, your pulse in your ears. You thought of Agatha upstairs with the kids, her voice carrying faintly down the hall as she helped them pick pajamas. You thought of the last time Ralph nearly raised his hand at you, the way your body still tensed at the memory.
Your instinct was to delete it, to bury it. But Matt’s voice echoed in your head: Let him make the next mistake. Let him hang himself with his own rope.
With shaking hands, you forwarded the message to your lawyers.
Within minutes, Matt called. His voice was crisp, all business. “This is good,” he said.
“This is evidence. Direct harassment, intimidation. It helps us. You did the right thing sending it immediately.”
You sat down heavily on the couch, hand pressed to your chest. “It doesn’t feel good. It feels like he’s right outside the door, waiting to finish what he started.”
Matt’s voice softened, just slightly. “That’s exactly why we’re here. And why we’re going to end this.”
That night, after the kids were tucked in and the house finally quieted, you found Agatha in the office again, shoulders bent over a stack of papers.
You lingered in the doorway before speaking. “Ralph messaged me today.”
Her head snapped up instantly. “What?”
You stepped in, holding out your phone with the message pulled up. She snatched it from your hand, her jaw tightening as she read.
“Son of a—” She cut herself off, shoved the phone back into your hand. “You already sent this to Matt?”
“Yeah. He said it’s good evidence. That it strengthens the case.”
Agatha exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I swear, he doesn’t know when to stop digging his own grave.”
You leaned against the desk, trying to keep your voice steady. “It doesn’t feel like he’s digging his grave. It feels like he’s digging mine.”
Agatha’s eyes softened then, the fire in her dimming just enough to reach for your hand. She tugged you closer until you were standing between her knees, her grip steady.
“He can’t touch you,” she said firmly. “Not legally. Not physically. Not anymore. We have proof, Y/N. And now, we have this.” She tapped your phone. “This is him handing us the win on a silver platter.”
Tears burned the backs of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Then why do I still feel like I’m losing?”
Agatha tilted her head, studying you with that uncanny mix of tenderness and sharpness only she had. “Because you’ve been carrying this fear alone for too long. But you’re not alone anymore.”
Something broke inside you at that—quietly, not dramatically. Just a loosening in your chest as you finally let yourself lean into her. She wrapped her arms around you, held you tight against her, her chin resting on your shoulder.
The following weeks moved like a fast-forward reel. Meetings stacked on meetings. Lawyers shuffling in and out of the house with briefcases and binders. Agatha disappearing into conference calls, her voice clipped and commanding. You found yourself caught in a rhythm of whispered updates with Wanda in the kitchen, late-night texts with Matt confirming documents, sleepless hours staring at the ceiling while the weight of it all pressed down.
Every small step forward—the filing of paperwork, the cataloging of threats, the way Ralph’s name looked on official documents—felt like both progress and danger. Progress because it meant you were moving. Danger because it meant he would only get angrier.
But each night, when the house fell quiet, Agatha was there. Sometimes it was just a hand on your back as you brushed your teeth. Sometimes it was her voice in the dark, whispering, We’re almost there. He can’t win this.
And sometimes, when the fear clawed at you hardest, it was simply her arms wrapping around you until you could breathe again.
Because this time, it wasn’t just your fight.
It was hers too.
The trial came faster than you thought it would. One moment you were still buried in files at Agatha’s desk, trying to understand what counted as admissible evidence; the next, you were stepping into the courthouse, your pulse hammering as if the walls themselves were vibrating.
Everything about that morning was sharp: the flash of cameras outside, the firm grip of your lawyer guiding you past reporters, the way Agatha’s hand brushed against yours briefly, like a secret anchor in the storm.
Inside, the courtroom was both grand and suffocating. Polished wood, hushed voices, the faint clack of heels echoing off the marble. You sat with Agatha at the petitioner’s side, her legal team spread like armor around her. Ralph was across the aisle, his own lawyers whispering furiously in his ear. He looked calm at first glance—too calm—but his jaw ticked every few seconds, his hands restless against the table.
When the judge entered, everyone rose. You tried to steady your breathing. This was it.
The opening arguments were almost cinematic in contrast. Agatha’s lead attorney—sharp-suited, precise—laid out the case: irretrievable breakdown of marriage, threats, harassment, blackmail. The words were cold, professional, but they carried weight. Evidence would be presented: the messages, the surveillance footage from the garden and the kitchen.
The first footage was played. The garden, late afternoon, Ralph cornering you. The grainy image of him leaning close, hand waving a set of photos—the ones he had taken of you and Agatha. You could almost hear the words again. Your stomach twisted.
The room was quiet, only the hum of the projector filling the air. Even without sound, the body language told everything. Your shoulders tight, your fists clenched, his looming stance, the smug tilt of his chin. The judge leaned forward slightly, taking notes.
Then came the second video. The pool party. Ralph, angry, stepping closer, his hand cocking back like he’d strike you. And then your flinch—the instinctive way you drew back, tense, bracing. That moment froze the room. A murmur rippled across the gallery before the judge silenced it with a sharp look.
You didn’t dare look at Ralph, but you could feel the heat of his glare burning into your skin.
Agatha’s lawyer stood, his voice even. “Your Honor, this isn’t the behavior of a man trying to reconcile or protect his children. This is intimidation. This is coercion. This is abuse.”
Ralph’s lawyer countered immediately, insisting the videos were “taken out of context,” claiming Ralph was only “emotional” and that the photos were “fabricated evidence meant to embarrass him.” But the judge wasn’t convinced — the footage had already been verified as authentic, and Ralph’s statements didn’t line up with the timeline shown in the video. The defense faltered, unable to back up their claims.
And then it was your turn.
Taking the stand, your throat went dry. You told the court what Ralph said that day in the garden—that he had hired someone to follow you, that he threatened to leak the photos if you didn’t walk away from Agatha. You repeated the words he hissed during the pool party—how he mocked you, called you weak, even pretended to hit you.
When the opposing counsel pressed you, accusing you of exaggerating, of “painting Ralph as a villain because of your bias,” you forced yourself to breathe, to stay calm. “The footage speaks for itself,” you said simply. “I’m not here to exaggerate. I’m here because he threatened me—and by extension, Agatha and her children.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Uncomfortable. But solid.
By the time court adjourned that day, you were drained, your body aching from sitting so rigid. Ralph looked like a man unraveling—jaw tight, his composure cracking in small, ugly ways.
Agatha, though, carried herself steady, her hand brushing yours when no one was looking. Her whispered words as you walked out together were the only thing keeping you from collapsing:
“You did good. We’re almost there.”
Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @buttercandy16 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @hannah-0730 @starryjeongyeon @atlasimagines @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @darlingaura @upsidedowndanvers @iiiheartwomen @cocoever @morgananyx @wifeofmanymilfs @lowlyjelly @ughidunn0
Missing you were never mine to lose like crazy. Is there hope for a new chapter any time soon?
I’ll be posting a new chapter update this Sunday. Thanks so much for reading and waiting!💜
Will you update You Were Never Mine to Lose soon?
This Sunday, I’ll post a new update for my fic. Thank you for reading and for waiting!💜
