Chapter Eleven.

Sage hadn't slept since the night Harlow had disappeared into the spirit realm.

Three days had passed, and with each hour that ticked by, the absence of her angel burned more deeply into her chest. She tossed and turned through the nights, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones, but every time she closed her eyes, her mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What if Harlow couldn't come back? What if something happened to her there? What if she decided to stay? The uncertainty clawed at her, leaving her feeling raw, restless, and desperate.

She sat at the kitchen table on the third morning, dark circles beneath her eyes, a steaming cup of coffee clutched between her fingers. Her mother, a tall, imposing woman with sharp, scrutinizing eyes, leaned against the counter, watching her daughter with a disapproving gaze.

"What's with you?" she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee. "You look like a damn zombie."

Sage clenched her jaw, debating whether she even wanted to get into it. But the sleeplessness, the anxiety, the gnawing fear—it all bubbled up in her throat until she couldn't keep it in anymore. "It's Harlow," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's gone to the spirit realm, and I don't know if she's coming back."

Her mother snorted, setting her mug down with a clank. "The spirit realm? Really, Sage? You're telling me you got yourself mixed up with an angel?" She let out a cruel laugh. "That's rich."

Sage's fingers curled into a fist around the handle of her cup, her patience thinning. "It's not funny."

"Oh, I think it is." Her mother's voice dripped with mockery. "A demon—my own daughter—pining over an angel like some lovesick fool. You do realize how ridiculous that is, right? How weak it makes you look?"

Sage gritted her teeth. "It's not about that. It's about her. I care about her. She's—" She hesitated, but the truth was already there, hanging in the air between them. "She's everything to me."

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms. "So what? You think this is some grand, forbidden love story? That she's going to come back and what? You'll live happily ever after? Newsflash, Sage: she's an angel. She's not meant for you. And you're a fool if you think otherwise."

Sage felt the anger rise in her chest, but underneath it was a deep, aching hurt. "You don't get to decide what's meant for me."

Her mother's expression hardened. "You want to waste your life chasing after some celestial girl who's going to leave you in the end? Fine. But not in my house."

Sage blinked, barely processing the words at first. "What?"

"You heard me." Her mother shrugged, utterly indifferent. "If being with her is so damn important to you, then get out of my house. Quit being a bitch about it. Even though you're a demon, you're acting weaker than a human."

The words struck like a slap, and for a moment, Sage couldn't breathe. It wasn't just the cruelty—it was the finality in her mother's voice. The dismissal. The utter lack of care. She had always known her mother was harsh, but this… this was something else entirely. This was abandonment.

Something inside her snapped. "Fine." Her voice was eerily calm, her body moving on autopilot as she pushed back from the table. "I'll go."

Her mother didn't stop her. Didn't say another word as Sage marched to her room and grabbed her suitcase from the closet. She threw in clothes, her laptop, essentials. Then, her eyes landed on the small Squishmallow Harlow had bought her.

She froze, her chest tightening. The memory of that night flooded back—the way Harlow had smiled, the way she had called her sweet for buying it. Sage grabbed the plush, pressing it tightly against her chest as a choked breath escaped her lips. Tears welled in her eyes, but she swallowed them down, forcing herself to stay strong.

She shoved the Squishmallow into her bag, zipped up the suitcase, and without a second glance, walked out the door.

———

The hotel she found was only a few miles from Harlow's house. It was nothing extravagant, but it was clean, quiet, and most importantly, away from the toxicity she had just left behind.

Sage settled onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as exhaustion finally started creeping in. Her body ached, her mind was a mess, and she felt utterly drained. She reached for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened her messages.

She started typing.

Harlow, I don't know if you'll even see this. I don't know if you can. But I need you to know that I miss you. It's only been three days, but it feels like an eternity. I wish I could come after you, but I know that would only make things worse. I just… I hope you're okay. I hope you come back. I need you to come back.

Her thumb hovered over the send button before she hit it.

The message sat there, unread. Sage exhaled sharply, setting the phone down and rubbing her eyes. "Come back to me, angel," she whispered to the empty room.

Exhaustion weighed on her limbs as she curled up on the bed, hugging the Squishmallow close. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a few hours of sleep.

She had barely begun to drift off when her phone buzzed.

Her eyes flew open, and her heart leapt into her throat as she grabbed it.

Incoming call: Harlow.

Sage sat up so fast she nearly fell off the bed. Her fingers fumbled to answer, and she pressed the phone to her ear. "Harlow?"

"Hey," came the voice on the other end—soft, familiar, and full of relief. "I'm back."

Sage squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of emotion crashing over her. "You—God, Harlow, you're okay?"

"I'm okay." A pause. "I missed you."

Sage let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. "I missed you too. You have no idea."

There was a hesitation on the line, a shift in Harlow's tone. "Sage… I have something to tell you."

The way she said it sent a nervous chill down Sage's spine. "What is it?"

Another pause. Then, quietly, "I made a choice."

Sage's breath caught. "A choice?"

"Yes." Harlow's voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it—something heavy. "About us. About everything."

Sage's heart pounded. "Harlow, what did you do?"

Silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity.

Then, just before Harlow could speak, the line went dead.

Sage stared at her phone, pulse hammering, dread pooling in her stomach.

What the hell had Harlow done?