“Damian Miller,” Jenn said for me.
“Damian Miller from Miller & Co. Antiques is your boss?!” Tom exclaimed. “Honey, I’ve read articles about him—he’s insanely hot.”
“OMG,Tom, you’re right. How hot is he, seriously?” Linda said, turning her phone to show a picture of Damian.
“He really is a handsome man,” Marianna said. She was in her first semester of veterinary medicine with Jenn.
“And you flew to Rome with him?” Linda asked.
If only they knew what else had happened. My cheeks burned. I took a long sip of beer to hide the heat creeping up my neck.
“It was just a business trip,” I muttered.
Jenn laughed beside me. I shot her a warning look.
“Didn’t his girlfriend mind you flying to Rome with him?” Linda asked.
“His girlfriend?” My voice caught.
Linda turned the phone back toward me and swiped to the next picture—Damian and a stunning blonde, laughing, leaning close. Their chemistry was undeniable.
“Let me see,” I said, taking the phone. One swipe. Another. Then I froze.
I knew her instantly. Silvia Mason. Her fingers were wrapped around Damian’s hand like they belonged there. His arm draped across her shoulders—so natural, so familiar. No posing. No effort to make it look perfect. Just real. As if it had happened a hundred times before.
The pictures didn’t cut like knives. They seared like hot iron against skin.
The date beneath the photo—yesterday—was the worst part. He’d been there. With her. At the exhibition he’d wanted to take me to.
I forced my face into a mask as my fingers trembled. I handed the phone back to Linda, my expression flat, unreadable.
I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel rage. I didn’t even want an explanation. What I felt was emptiness. And the sense that I’d had enough.
I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and opened the chat.
20:41 – Daisy:I never want to see you again. And whatever this was between us… it’s over.
Jenn, who understood without a word, took the beer from my hand, pushed a stronger drink into it, and rested her palm on my shoulder.
“To Daisy and the good old days,” she said, raising her glass.
“Maybe you’ll come back to Woodstock for good one day,” Tom added, and the group lifted their glasses in agreement.
I forced a smile and drank. Then I sent Damian a screenshot of him holding Silvia’s hand. For a moment, I thought about addingI quit, but that felt reckless. I wasn’t reckless. I was tired.
20:44 – Daisy:Hope it was at least worth it for you.
I slipped my phone into my bag. The alcohol spread through me, softening the weight in my chest. We laughed, told old stories, tried to crawl back into a life that had once seemed simpler. I drank, I smiled, I talked—all while trying not to think of Damian. But it didn’t work. The second my phone vibrated, I reached for it. Deepdown, I still hoped—still believed—that he meant it. Meantus. Foolish, naïve girl.
20:57 – Damian:Where are you?
I stared at the message, as if it couldn’t be real. Nothing followed. NoWait. NoIt’s not what you think. Just:Where are you?
I shoved the phone back into my bag, swearing I wouldn’t look again tonight. But half an hour later, I broke that vow. Nothing. Another hour passed. Still nothing. Between every sip, my eyes flicked to the screen. That pathetic hope—maybe, just maybe—another message would come. Something. Anything. But the silence stretched on. And in his silence was everything I didn’t want to hear. Maybe I had never been enough. Maybe I had just been… convenient.
Something in me cracked quiet.
“Daisy, look who just joined us.” Jenn’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I followed her finger.
