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Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 38
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2.2k words

(Y/n)'s POV
Satine set a heavy envelope on my desk, its weight a stark reminder of the burden I was trying to shake off.

With a resigned sigh, I put my pen down and closed my journal, frustration bubbling up inside me. "This is the third one. You'd think he'd get the message by now that I'm not interested." My fingers wrapped around the envelope, and with a quick motion, I ripped it open, the sound piercing the silence of the room.

It had been just over a week since the first drawing arrived, with the second following closely behind, arriving the day before yesterday. That one captured a moment from our past—a playful water fight at the bakery. It had once been one of my favorite memories, a time when joy felt effortless—before everything changed. Scrawled across the image were the words: when I knew I was falling in love with you.

I understood his intentions; he was trying to show me the moments that held significance for him, hoping to win my forgiveness by highlighting the real moments of our early days together. The drawings were undeniably sweet, and I couldn't help but appreciate them, but I remained unsure if they could bridge the gap of hurt between us.

It was comforting to know that some of our time together had been real, especially after the pain of doubting otherwise. But that realization didn't erase the truth of his betrayal—the lies he wove, the way he had entered my life with hidden motives while I was vulnerable, and the despicable bet that had set everything in motion. The Anakin I thought I knew would never have acted this way, leaving me to grapple with the unsettling question of who he truly was and what other secrets he might be hiding from me.

I couldn't shake that now that our trust was broken, I'd never be able to trust him again. And what kind of relationship would that be like?

With a flick of my wrist, I tossed aside the torn envelope, my gaze landing on the latest sketch that was going to be apart of the collection I held. "Oh no, I really don't want to see that," Satine exclaimed, her gaze quickly averting, misinterpreting the image before her. I couldn't blame her; the drawing did imply something unholy was taking place. But I knew the truth behind it.

"It's not what you think," I reassured her, my eyes lingering on the drawing of me sitting on his lap, a moment captured from our visit to the science center, the day he revealed his star project. It was also the day our first kiss. I had to admit, that moment—among all the memories—evoked something within me. "It was just our first kiss." It was also the day he promised me that he would never hurt me.

And yet, here we were.

Written at the bottom of the drawing were the words, I knew, and I flipped the paper over to reveal his message on the back: I would never feel for anyone else the way I do for you.

A lump formed in my throat, and I gently set the drawing down among the others. "Thanks, Satine," I murmured, my voice barely audible. I slid my journal back into place, gripping my pen with renewed resolve. Lately, pouring my thoughts onto the page had become a sanctuary, a way to create some order in my chaotic mind. Without it, I was afraid that I would spiral into another breakdown.

"(Y/n)," she took my pen, interrupting my writing mid-sentence. I paused, staring at the blank page, tears threatening to spill. "Can I offer you a bit of advice?" she asked gently.

"I have a feeling you'll share it no matter what I say, so go ahead," I replied with a weary sigh as she let go, allowing me to drop the pen onto the desk.

"Life is short, my dear, and it's not worth it to waste it on bitterness and anger. What he did was undeniably wrong, but remember, he's young and foolish, just like you. Boys can often bring trouble," she said, tenderly cupping my face and turning it so I could meet her gaze. "But it takes a real person to recognize their mistakes, and I believe he has done just that. It's clear that he loves you deeply."

I lowered my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek. "I know he does, and I love him too," I confessed, my voice quivering. Anakin Skywalker had the ability to shatter my world even more than he already had, yet my love for him remained, even amidst the pain. "But it still hurts. I don't think I can forgive him—not yet." Two weeks had passed, which hardly seems like enough time for me to get over what happened at the festival, a night that had held so much promise.

She nodded, her understanding evident. "I know, and I'll be here for you through it all. I'll always support you. But learn to know who does and who doesn't deserve a second chance — knowing the difference will shape your whole life in the best way." She gently squeezed my shoulder before leaving my room, closing the door softly behind her. I was left alone with my thoughts and the solitude I had longed for these past weeks, a solitude that my father and she had respected, even though they wanted to comfort me.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, releasing a long, shaky breath, and then the tears flowed freely, my mind consumed by thoughts of him.

✦

Anakin's POV
I laid back in my bed, staring up at the ceiling while I rhythmically tossed a ball into the air, catching it effortlessly. The idea of creating drawings had been a stroke of genius, all thanks to Padme. Still, a thought nagged at me—was it really enough? I had already sent her three drawings, but the silence that followed left me wondering whether I should even try for a fourth.

With a sigh, I caught the ball just in time to avoid a light smack to my cheek. A soft giggle floated in from the open doorway, pulling my attention. There stood my little sister, dressed in her pajamas, her hair a wild mess, clutching her cherished doll. "What's so funny?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It would have been funny if it hit you," she laughed, tightening her grip on the stuffed toy. That doll was her prized possession, a gift from our mother before Ahsoka was even born. I often wondered if she understood its significance or if her attachment to it was purely instinctual.

I lifted the ball, a playful grin spreading across my face. "You know what would be even funnier?" I teased, pretending to aim the ball at her. She squealed and darted for cover beside the door, and I couldn't help but chuckle as I let the ball drop to the floor. "You really think I'd throw something at you?" I added, fully aware that I would never risk hurting her—unless it was something soft, like a pillow or a plush toy. Not a baseball.

After a moment, she peeked around the door, her eyes and forehead the only visible parts of her. "I don't know, maybe."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "No, I wouldn't do that. Now come here," I beckoned with open arms, and she hurried into the room, darting close enough for me to scoop her up. "What are you doing awake at this hour?" I asked as I settled her onto the bed, resting her head against my chest and placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. This little girl had her nails in me so deep, I'd do just about anything for her.

"I can't sleep," she murmured, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. "I miss Mommy. Are you sure she isn't coming back?"

A pinch of grief gripped my heart. I wished she could understand the truth, but her young mind struggled with such heavy concepts. "She isn't coming back, sweetheart," I whispered, closing my eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. My fingers glided through her hair, offering what comfort I could.

"Would you ever do that?" she asked, lifting her head to meet my gaze. In that moment, it felt as if I were staring into a reflection; our eyes mirrored each other perfectly.

"Do what?" I replied, tilting my head slightly as I used my thumb to wipe the orange smudge from her cheek. It seemed someone had indulged in Cheetos before cooking up here, and I braced myself for the mess awaiting me downstairs. Not once can she eat Cheetos without dropping half the bag on the floor.

"Leave and not come back," she said, her innocence shining through. I understood the weight of her words; she was grappling with the concept of death, even if she lacked the vocabulary to express it.

I shook my head firmly. "No, that will never happen. I will always be right here with you." I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

She nodded slowly, resting her head back down. "Do you think Mommy misses me?"

Hearing the sorrow in her voice, I wrapped my arms around her tightly, offering comfort. "Absolutely. I'm certain she misses you just as much as you miss her, maybe even more." To lighten the mood, I playfully pinched her side, eliciting a giggle that warmed my heart. "And you know what would make her really happy? If you could get some sleep. Can we try that?"

"Can I stay here with you?" she asked, a small yawn escaping her lips.

"Just don't drool on me," I joked, closing my eyes. I hadn't been sleeping well either these past few weeks, and I felt myself drifting off just as quickly as she did.

✦

The sharp ring of the landline pulled me abruptly from the depths of sleep, cutting through the stillness of the early morning. Obi-Wan had set it up on my nightstand for those late nights when he needed to reach me without the hassle of me stumbling down the stairs in a daze.

With my eyes still shut, I groped for the phone, bringing it to my ear. Ahsoka shifted slightly in my arms, yet the ringing hadn't disturbed her rest. "Hello?" I murmured softly.

"Hey Ani."

The voice on the other end sent a shock through me. If Ahsoka hadn't been nestled against me, I might have shot upright. I struggled to maintain my composure. "(Y/n)?"

"Yeah, it's me," she replied, her tone subdued. "I got your drawings, and they're really beautiful. Thank you."

"Of course," I managed to say, my throat tight with anxiety. I was unsure how to respond, fearing that this call might lead to her outright rejecting me, telling me to stop sending her anything.

A heavy silence lingered between us for a moment before I heard her take a deep breath. "Look, I'm not ready to forgive you," she admitted, her voice laced with sadness, a hint of recent tears evident. Guilt washed over me, knowing I was the reason for her pain. "But I think I've calmed down enough to actually hear you out. I realize I haven't given you that chance, and I just—" She paused, a soft sniffle breaking the stillness. "I think it's only fair to listen, but don't mistake this for me taking you back right away. I still don't know if I can trust you."

It was a beginning, a flicker of hope in the darkness. I could see it clearly now; this moment could pave the way for something new, a chance to show her that I would never being her that kind of pain again. "I understand," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm just grateful you're willing to talk to me." A smile broke through the tears that threatened to come out. "When can we meet? I want to share everything with you, every detail, no more secrets."

"How about tonight at the beach? Let's meet at that same rock where we sat during the bonfire," she suggested.

"I can make it by nine, right after my brother gets home to look after my sister. Will that work?" I asked, my hand gently brushing through Ahsoka's hair as she slept beside me. I suspected she was awake, her soft snores having faded into silence moments ago.

"That sounds perfect," she replied, her voice brightening. "Just remember, Ani, don't be late. If you're not there by nine, I'm leaving."

"I promise I'll be there," I said, my heart swelling with joy. This was really happening. Maybe, just maybe, I was on the verge of winning her back. "I'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight," she whispered before the call ended.

I lowered the phone from my ear and set it gently on my nightstand, a grin stretching across my face. I didn't think it was possible to feel any happier than I did in that moment.

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