The Heiress: War For The Throne

Chapter Title: Not Goodbye

Her words broke something inside me — in a good way. A soft, breathy laugh escaped me, tangled with the tears still streaking down my face. I couldn't stop it, didn't even try. It felt oddly freeing, like letting go of a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying.

I pulled away from her embrace, a smile tugging at my lips as I wiped the stubborn traces of tears from my cheeks. She gave me a thumbs up, her eyes warm with pride and reassurance. I mirrored her grin, my heart feeling a little lighter, a little warmer.

For a moment, everything felt right. The haunting weight of the dream faded into nothing, like mist under the sun.

Beep.

The sharp ping from my laptop snapped me out of the moment. I glanced toward it, curiosity stirring like a whisper at the back of my mind. Crossing the room, I leaned over the screen. My heart skipped.

Then it stopped.

Then it soared.

"Congratulations".

My breath caught in my throat. My eyes scanned the email twice, three times, just to be sure. But there it was, clear as day. I'd been accepted. Accepted.

A scream of pure, unfiltered joy burst from me, filling the room. "I got in!" I spun around, clutching my chest as if it could somehow hold back the swell of emotions rushing through me. My dream academy. I actually got in.

My hands flew to my mouth as I stared at the screen, blinking rapidly, half-expecting it to vanish like another dream. But it didn't. It stayed. It was real. It was real.

For the first time in what felt like forever, something had gone right.

I just got into Phoenix Academy.

Phoenix Academy. Just hearing the name was enough to make people sit up and pay attention. It wasn't just a school — it was a gateway to every dream worth chasing. Graduates didn't apply for jobs; jobs came to them. The name alone was a golden stamp of excellence, a mark that said, "This one is extraordinary."

And somehow, I had just been accepted.

I sat there, staring at the screen in disbelief, my heart drumming like it was trying to break free from my chest. My breath came in short gasps as the realization slowly sank in. Then it hit me — really hit me.

"Mom!" I blurted out, twisting to face her as she sat on the edge of my bed. My voice shook with excitement, rising higher with every word. "I got in! I GOT IN!"

Her hands paused mid-air, her eyes narrowing in confusion for just a moment. "What did you say?" she asked, leaning forward like she hadn't heard me right.

"I said I got in!" I shouted, my voice cracking from the sheer force of it. "Phoenix Academy accepted me!"

Her eyes widened, and for a second, she just stared. Then, suddenly, she was on her feet, her hands flying to her mouth as a gasp escaped her lips. "No... no way!" she breathed, her gaze darting between me and the laptop. "Are you serious?"

"Mom, I'm not joking! Look!" I practically dragged her over to the screen, pointing at the words as if I needed her to see them for herself.

Her eyes scanned it once. Then twice. And on the third pass, she let out a scream so loud I was sure the entire neighborhood heard it.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, my grin so wide it hurt. "There's more." I turned to face her, heart thundering in my chest. "I'm the first-ever scholarship student in the history of Phoenix Academy!"

Her gasp was so sharp it could've cut glass. Tears welled in her eyes as she cupped my face in her hands, her fingers trembling against my cheeks. "Oh, baby," she whispered, voice thick with pride. "You did it. You did it."

"I don't know what to do, Mom," I confessed, my voice cracking as a fresh wave of emotion hit me. My eyes blurred with tears I hadn't even realized I was holding back. "I'm... I'm astounded."

Her eyes crinkled with the kind of smile only a mother could give. She pulled me in close, her arms wrapping around me like a shield from the world. "Then don't do anything," she said, her voice soft but steady. "Just feel it. Feel it, baby."

And for the first time in a long time, I did. I let myself feel it all — the disbelief, the joy, the pride, the overwhelming sense that maybe, just maybe, things were finally going right.

That day, Mom and I celebrated like our lives depended on it. We laughed until our sides ached, danced around the room like fools, and let joy fill every inch of the space. But underneath all the excitement, a quiet truth lingered — I had to report to Phoenix Academy the very next day.

Reality hit harder than I expected.

After we'd celebrated to our hearts' content, it was time to pack. I folded clothes into my suitcase, feeling the weight of every second slipping by. I glanced over at Mom and froze. Her hands trembled as she smoothed out one of my shirts. Her head was bowed, her breath shaky. I didn't realize why until I saw it — tears. Silent, steady tears rolling down her cheeks.

My heart squeezed so tight it hurt. Before I knew it, my own tears had joined hers. No matter how many times I blinked, they wouldn't stop. I knew this day would come. I'd always known. But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

"Mom, stop," I choked, my voice cracking. "You're making me cry too."

She looked up at me with watery eyes and a shaky smile. Her lips pressed into a thin line as if she were trying to stay strong, but she didn't bother pretending for long. She opened her arms, and I flew into them like I was a child again. She hugged me so tightly it felt like she was trying to memorize every inch of me, like letting go would be impossible.

"Oh, God," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. She let out a short, breathy laugh as she cradled my head against her shoulder. "I already miss you."

Her words shattered something in me. A sob broke free, and I clung to her, letting all the tears I'd been holding in pour out at once. My chest heaved with the weight of it all. I didn't care how messy I looked or how loud my sniffles sounded. I just stayed there, pressed into her warmth, wishing I could freeze this moment forever.

She stroked my back in slow, gentle circles. "It's okay, baby," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "You're going to do amazing things. I'm so proud of you."

Her words only made me cry harder.

After what felt like forever, she pulled away, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She sniffed, forcing a smile onto her face like it was something she'd practiced.

"Alright," she said, voice still thick with emotion. "No more tears. We've got packing to do."

I nodded, even though neither of us believed her.

The silence that followed wasn't empty — it was heavy, like a weight pressing down on both of us. We folded clothes, zipped up suitcases, and packed away little pieces of my life. Every shift of fabric, every click of a zipper, was a countdown. I glanced at Mom every now and then, hoping she'd say something to break it. But she didn't.

Neither of us was ready to say it out loud.

Not goodbye.