Zachary Vize

Zachary Vize wasn’t just my boyfriend, He was my whole world. He was born into power, his family’s empire stretched across countries, their wealth unimaginable. Me? I was just a girl whose parents barely kept a restaurant running, We came from different worlds, but he never made me feel it. He fought them his parents for me, He walked away from the comfort, the money, the legacy. I watched him give it all up with fire in his eyes and my name on his lips. I should’ve been happy. Instead, I felt the crushing weight of guilt. I saw him working double shifts, exhausted, trying to keep us afloat. I knew I was the reason he struggled, and every smile he gave me was another knife in my chest. Then came the loan sharks. My parents were drowning in debt, and they came to collect, with fists. Zach tried to protect us. They left him bloodied and barely breathing. The moment I saw him in the hospital face swollen, eye shut, ribs broken. He grinned through the pain just because I was there. I was falling apart, I went to his parents. I knelt on their marble floors, cried until I couldn’t breathe. I begged them to save him. They watched me like I was dirt beneath their shoes. They will help him but in return, I had to disappear. I asked them to give me three days to be with Zach. And those three days were the sweetest torture. He was so happy his parents finally reached out we could start over. He was making plans for us, while I was counting down the hours. I smiled, kissed him, held him tighter than ever. After the third day, I disappeared. He called, texted, came to my parents house screaming my name. The voicemail he left was a dagger to my soul. He was crying. “What did I do? Just tell me what I did wrong…” I blocked him. (5 Years later ) i worked in a small town at an orphanage I heard the children giggling. One little girl ran to me, clutching something. A single black rose. “It’s from that man,” she said, pointing. I turned, heart pounding. It was him. Zachary Vize

standing at the gates of the orphanage. Older. Sharper. Dressed in all black, dripping wealth again, but colder. Harder. His eyes locked on mine. No warmth. Just fury. He walked slowly toward me. Every step a storm. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move.He looked at me, eyes like ice “Did it hurt… when you killed me?