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Chapter 12
Chapter 12
The celebration was intimate just family and close friends from high school. Still, the grand ballroom felt overwhelming.
Everyone’s eyes widened when they saw me there, like they’d seen a ghost. I could almost hear their thoughts: “What’s she doing here after everything?”
I just smiled politely and made small talk, playing dumb. But you couldn’t miss their not–so–subtle glances, the whispered conversations that stopped when I walked by. Four years of high school had taught me exactly what gossip looked like.
Needing to escape, I stepped onto the terrace for fresh air. That’s when I heard voices from around the corner where his friends had cornered him by the service entrance.
“Seriously? I thought she was done with you after the whole Madison thing at the party. Now she’s crawling back?”
Aiden’s laugh was cold, entitled – a sound I’d never heard from him before.
“Please. She’s just being dramatic. Give her a few days – you really think she’d walk away after all these years? She doesn’t know how to exist without me.”
“I don’t know, man,” his friend said. “Brooklyn’s pretty great. All those years together, the way she’d drop everything for you… most guys would kill for a girl like that.”
“Yeah, childhood sweetheart versus dream girl – that’s rough. What’s your game plan?”
Aiden was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was calculated.
“Look, Brooklyn’s great, sure. Sweet girl, totally devoted. But it feels like settling, you know? I’m eighteen – who wants to be tied down to their high school girlfriend forever? That’s such a cliché. I want to experience college life, meet new people… besides,” he laughed, “she’ll always be there waiting, keeping the light on like a good little girlfriend.”
His friend went quiet. Finally punched his arm. “You’re such an asshole.”
I couldn’t stomach another word. I slipped away silently, my designer sneakers soundless on the marble
floor.
The evening air hit my face as I rounded the corner, and I finally let the tears fall. Six years of memories played through my mind like a highlight reel of my own stupidity. Every shared secret, every late–night call, every “I’ll always be there for you” – all just convenient lies from someone who saw me as a backup plan.
Seven Years of Love, Seven Minutes of Traih
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Chapter 12
I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the city lights blur through my tears, hating myself for being so blind for so long. For believing that the boy next door routine meant something real. For thinking that growing up together meant growing old together.
