Chapter 9
During my time with family in Boston, I put on a good show of being happy.
I kept myself deliberately busy, filling every hour with activities, leaving no empty spaces for unwanted thoughts.
And no, I didn’t unblock Aiden like he’d demanded.
Still, Maya and other friends kept sending me updates about him.
Apparently. Aiden and his friends spent days in Aspen. For some reason, he started posting constantly on Instagram – totally unlike the guy who’d go months without a single post.
Sometimes it was videos of him carving down black diamond runs, sometimes lavish dinners and all–night parties, but mostly group photos of everyone goofing around in the snow, all smiles and inside jokes.
Even though I didn’t want to know, people kept sending me screenshots.
Everyone kept asking why I wasn’t in Aspen with Aiden.
I dodged their questions, making vague excuses about family obligations in Boston.
While Maya straight–up called Aiden a player, everyone else just gave me these knowing looks, like they were afraid to say what they
were thinking.
I knew why. In every group photo he posted, he and Madison were practically glued together, inseparable.
That spot beside him – it had been mine for years.
Each time I saw these posts, I kept my face neutral, but my heart would twist painfully.
He was my first real love, someone I’d genuinely cared about for so, so long.
Late at night, I’d let myself break down sometimes, feeling the unfairness of it all.
But then I’d remember his cruel words and mentally slap myself.
Over and over, I’d repeat: “Brooklyn, have some self–respect. Don’t make yourself even more pathetic.”
Just hold on. Get through withdrawal. Things would get better.
We went a whole month without contact – the longest we’d gone since meeting.
Distance and time were supposed to be great healers, and I’d pushed through the worst of it.
Just when I’d almost stopped thinking about Aiden altogether, he called from a new number, his voice crossing the continent to find
- me.
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