----------- Hamilton -------- eliza's pov

I put myself back in the narrative,

A quiet hand rewriting time.

For years I stood, a shadowed figure,

A footnote to his rise and climb.

He wrote, he fought, his words were endless,

A story woven, bold and loud.

But I was there, behind the pages,

Unseen beneath the cheering crowd.

I loved him once—a love relentless,

A fortress built, then set aflame.

He bared his sins to all who’d listen,

And left me burdened with his name.

My letters burned, my voice was silenced,

The ashes whispered tales unsaid.

Yet in the ruin of his story,

I stood, though wounded, in his stead.

For all the good, for all the sorrow,

I took my place, I made my mark.

To build his orphaned dreams tomorrow,

And keep his light where it was dark.

But history is unforgiving,

It sings of men, it shrouds their wives.

I gave, I grieved, and kept on living,

Through remnants of our broken lives.

So now I step back from the story,

No longer will my heart remain.

A ghost within his gilded glory,

A quiet end to endless pain.

I’m erasing myself from the narrative,

And leaving what is his—his own.

Let time forget my place beside him.

This silence now is mine alone.