Years passed, and success followed me like a shadow. I had everything—wealth, power, respect. I had built my empire, lifted my family, and secured a future where I would never be weak again.
But something was missing.
I felt it in the quiet nights when the world was asleep, and I was alone with my thoughts. In the reflection of the mirror where my eyes held no warmth. In the forced laughter at celebrations where my heart felt nothing.
I had won the war against my past, yet I still felt like a soldier with no battle left to fight.
One evening, as I sat in my luxurious home, a message arrived. It was from Paul.
"We need to talk."
Paul—my past, my almost-love, the one person I had allowed close enough to touch the surface of my soul. I hesitated, but something inside me told me to meet him.
When I arrived at the small, quiet café, he was already there, his eyes searching mine as if looking for the woman he once knew.
"You've changed," he said, his voice calm but firm.
"I had to," I replied. "The world isn't kind to the weak."
Paul nodded. "But tell me something. Are you happy?"
I froze. It was a simple question, but one I had avoided asking myself for years. I had built a life that others envied. I had punished those who wronged me. I had become untouchable.
Yet, was I truly happy?
I left the café without answering Paul. His words lingered in my mind like a whisper I couldn't escape. That night, I sat in front of my mirror—the same mirror where I had once promised myself never to feel again.
I stared at the woman I had become. Strong. Wealthy. Powerful. But empty.
Tears slipped down my face, unexpected and unwelcome. I had spent so many years running from pain, from betrayal, from love. I had built walls so high that even I could no longer climb them.
In my quest for revenge, I had lost something precious—my ability to feel, to truly live.
The next morning, I made a decision. I would not undo the past—I couldn't. But I could choose to let go of the hatred that had fueled me for so long.
I visited my mother's house and sat with her, listening to her stories instead of rushing to fix everything. I reached out to my siblings, not as their protector, but as their sister. I even started attending cultural gatherings not just for power, but to connect.
For the first time in years, I felt something real. Not the cold satisfaction of seeing my enemies suffer, but the warmth of simple moments—the laughter of family, the beauty of a sunrise, the peace that came with letting go.
I still carried my scars. I still had my strength. But I no longer needed wickedness to be happy.
I had finally found true happiness—not in revenge, but in healing.
The End.
This ending brings closure while keeping the protagonist's( I ) strength intact. I didn't completely change, but I realizes that true power isn't just in being feared—it's in being free.