Days had passed, and Petal remained in silent retreat, barely leaving her room. She’d sit by the window or lie quietly, her face turned away, her thoughts locked away somewhere no one could reach. Neither Maya's gentle attempts nor Chase's lighthearted efforts could lift her spirits. She wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t engage. The only person she’d acknowledge was her father, William, and even then, it was only with a nod or a slight shake of her head. No words, just quiet gestures that held all her answers.

Chase’s heart ached at the sight of her, weighed down by the regret of knowing his actions had pushed her to this point. He hadn’t intended for any of this to happen, and yet, watching her retreat further away with each passing day, the guilt only grew sharper.

......

Chase entered Petal’s room, where she sat quietly by the window, staring down at her feet. "Good morning, Petal," he greeted softly. She didn’t respond, her gaze never lifting. The sight saddened him deeply; this wasn’t what he wanted for her.

He pulled a chair close to her and sat, letting the silence settle between them. For a moment, he just watched her, hoping his presence might reach her where words couldn’t. "I’m sorry, Petal," he finally said, his voice thick with regret. "I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I shouldn’t have forced you into the treatment. I’m sorry."

Her voice barely broke above a whisper. "It’s not your fault," she murmured, looking away.

"It is, Petal," he insisted. "I should have listened to you."

She looked up at him, and he could see the tears pooling in her eyes. "I don’t want this treatment," she said, her voice trembling. "I don’t want to remember him or anything about him." She choked back a sob. "I’d rather…" But before she could finish, he placed his hand gently over her mouth.

"Don’t say that," he whispered, his own eyes reflecting the pain in hers. "You won’t have to. I promise. I won’t ask you to go through it again."

She nodded slightly, and he let his hand fall away. "I’m sorry," she said, her voice filled with a sorrow that went deeper than words.

"Don’t be," he replied, reaching out to hold her hand.

" can you do something for me " she asked

" don't ask,  Just tell me."He said

Petal looked at him, her expression pleading. "Help me forget him instead… please,I don't want to remember him anything of him or anything we had " she begged, her voice breaking. The request shattered his heart, but he nodded, swallowing down his own pain.

"I’ll help you," he promised. "I’ll do whatever it takes."

.....

Chase entered his hidden sanctuary in Petal’s room, a place where his emotions and memories of her took form through paint. In the dim light, he moved to the enormous blank canvas he'd set up—one that would capture everything he felt, every moment of his regret and longing.

"Why did I do it?" he whispered, voice thick with remorse. He grabbed a bucket of paint, pouring it onto the canvas in wild strokes, the colors bleeding together like unspoken confessions. "I thought… if I helped her face it… she'd understand, maybe even love me for it." He spread the paint with his hands, each movement fierce yet trembling, pouring out his turmoil onto the massive surface. "I was so sure… so blind."

He stepped back, the paint streaked across his fingers, his clothes, his skin—evidence of his desperation. The image of Petal began to take shape, but with each stroke, he realized that the distance between them had only grown. "I thought I'd make things better, but all I did was hurt her."

Slowly, Chase sank to the ground beside the painting, lying on his side, his hand resting on the cool edge of the canvas. Her face was taking form there, soft and sad, staring back at him from the painted surface. He took a deep breath, his heart aching, feeling as though she could see every piece of him, every wrong choice he’d made.

His hands trembling, each movement weighted with sorrow. The dim glow of the room barely touched the edges of the massive painting, and yet, he continued, lost in the rawness of his regret.

"I thought I was helping you, Petal," he muttered, dipping his hands into the paint and dragging them across the canvas, each stroke a plea for forgiveness. "I thought I knew what you needed... But I was wrong. So wrong." His voice cracked, and he paused, swallowing hard as he realized the depth of the hurt he had caused.

Every swipe of paint felt like he was tearing open the walls he had built around his heart. He poured his anguish into each brushstroke, watching as her image began to emerge—a gentle face with soft eyes, eyes that once looked at him with trust. Now, those same eyes looked haunted, scarred, filled with pain.

His hands slowed, and he let the brush fall from his grip, running his fingers along the lines he'd painted. "I made you suffer," he whispered, his voice so low it was almost a sigh. He felt like he was unraveling right there, piece by piece, as he faced what he had done. "I was so focused on what I wanted… on my plans… that I lost sight of you."

The weight of his own words hit him like a punch, and he staggered back, sinking to the floor beside the canvas. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the edge of the painting, his breath shaky. Memories of Petal’s haunted expression, her quiet tears, and the way she flinched at his touch flashed in his mind. Her pain was his doing.

He lay there, tracing the face he’d painted of her, but his fingers trembled as though she might vanish even from this portrait. "I wanted you to see me, Petal… to need me the way I need you. But now… I’m the reason you’re afraid." His voice broke, and he stared up at the painted face with tears brimming in his eyes. "I never wanted to be someone who hurt you."

The silence of the room felt thick, almost suffocating, as his regret bore down on him. He clenched his fists, his heart aching with an intensity that left him breathless. "I should’ve listened to you... I should’ve seen what you needed, not what I thought was best."

Slowly, Chase stretched out beside the canvas, lying down so he could see her face, his head resting beside the painted image. His fingers reached up to trace her cheek once more, feeling the cold, dried paint beneath his fingertips. "I promise I’ll do better, Petal," he whispered, his voice rough but determined. "I won’t push you again. If forgetting me is what you want... I’ll let you go."

"I always said I'd give you everything, Petal… and I meant it." His fingers brushed the canvas, gently tracing the outline of her face. "If you want to forget me, I’ll give you that too." The words felt like shards, but he knew he had to let her go if that’s what she truly needed. "I promise you," he whispered, closing his eyes as he lay there. "I’ll be whatever you need me to be—even if that means disappearing."

Lying there in the quiet, he felt the ache in his chest deepen, knowing that he had to follow through on his promise, no matter how much it tore at him. "I’d do anything for you… " His words lingered in the silence, a quiet vow sealed in the depths of his soul.

As the hours stretched on, Chase lay there beside the painting, the quiet of the room matching the hollowness within him. He stared at the image of her he’d created, knowing that, for now, this painted version of Petal would be the only one he could hold close.

The night grew quiet as Chase lay beside his work, a silent vow, a commitment to do whatever it took to bring her peace—even if it meant erasing himself from her life.