Maybe it wasn’t so strange that two broken things like us found each other. We came from the same kind of hell—born into cages dressed up as homes, raised with expectations that never fit, smothered by families that wanted replicas, not individuals.
We were black sheep. The mistakes. The walking disappointments. But here, in this quiet moment, in her arms, I didn’t feel like a failure. We weren’t wrong for wanting more. We weren’t weak for chasing something real.
We were just two ghosts who refused to die quietly. And somehow, we’d found each other in the dark.
“I didn’t want to fall for him,” I whispered.
“None of us ever do.” Her hand squeezed mine. “But we survive it.”
And in that moment, I believed her. Even if I wasn’t sure how yet—I believed.
Thalia held me tighter than she ever had. One of those hugs that said everything I couldn’t. I buried my face in her shoulder for a second longer, letting the warmth of her friendship hold me together just long enough to get moving.
“Go,” she whispered, pulling me up off the ground and dusting me off. “Before you do something that gets you into trouble... or makes it hurt worse.”
I nodded, jaw tight. Then I slipped away from the glow of chandeliers and the weight of expectation. I walked fast, needing distance. Needing air. Ducking past the valet circle, past the manicured hedges and polished signs for Brookhaven Ridge Country Club.
Needing to outrunhim.
The country club disappeared behind me like a bad dream. But the image of Theo laughing with her—Rosalie-fucking-Vanderbilt—clung to me like smoke. His smile, easy and golden in the lamplight. Her hand brushing his arm. Cameras flashing like they’d been waiting for that moment all night. And maybe they had.
I took the long way to the lookout, too wrecked to drive, too splintered to think clearly, too full of everything I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t even grab my keys. I just bolted—out of that club, out of that moment—out of that reality where he stood beside her like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t ever belonged to me.
My boots hit the asphalt hard, the echo of each footfall a cruel reminder that I was still here, still breathing when I didn’t want to be. The wind bit at my skin, curling cold fingers down my spine as I climbed the familiar slope. The lookout came into view—silent, waiting—and I collapsed onto the rocky outcrop like I’d been punched in the chest.
The stars overhead were merciless in their brightness, like they didn’t care that my world had caved in.
At first, I thought I might cry. I wanted to. But I didn’t have it in me. Just this gnawing hollowness, like my ribs had cracked open from the inside and everything soft had spilled out. There was nothing left but ache and static.
I sat there, staring out at the town lights flickering like some twisted joke, like maybe if I looked hard enough, I could rewind everything and put it back together the way it was before. Before her. Before the truth. Before I saw him with her, and realized maybe I was the one who had never existed in the first place.
Was I being stupid?
Was I just some delusional fucking idiot who’d built an entire future out of scraps of a fantasy he never actually promised me?
Had Theo ever truly been mine—or had I just projected a thousand silent hopes onto the outline of a man who never really reached for me the way I reached for him?
I remembered the Caymans. God, I rememberedhimthere.
Skin kissed gold by the sun. That lazy, soft smile he only gave me when he wasn’t thinking. The way his laugh came out so freely, like it was safe between us. How our fingers brushed under the water, and it felt like something more—like a secret only we knew.
The night we spent tangled and sweat-slicked between the sheets, hearts exposed and wide open. When we stayed up until sunrise, telling each other things we’d never told anyone else. Building something sacred out of words and stolen time.
I gave him everything. Every cracked, imperfect, jagged piece of me—laid them at his feet and prayed he wouldn’t step on them. And he didn’t. Not then. He held them like they mattered. LikeImattered.
So I believed him. Believed in us. Even though it scared the shit out of me. Even though every survival instinct in my body screamed at me to run. But I didn’t.
Istayed.
Ichose him.
And now all I had was the image of him beside her—fucking Rosalie Vanderbilt—the kind of girl who looked like royalty. All perfect smiles, etiquette and born with a golden spoon in her mouth. She looked like someone you’d hold in the light. Someone you’d love without shame.
Not like me. Not like the secret kept in the dark, the hidden thing you only wanted when no one was watching.
He looked so polished beside her. So fuckingput together. And I was just there. The ghost. The mistake. Theinconvenience. A part of me died in that moment.
The part that still had hope.
