Susan didn’t say,I know.She didn’t say,He didn’t deserve you.She just nodded and let me sit in the weight of it.
“Everyone’s got a past, Jade,” she said gently. “Everyone’s been cracked wide open at some point. But you don’t have to stay broken.”
Something shifted in me.
Maybe it wasn’t about pretending it didn’t hurt.
Maybe it was about hurting and choosing to keep going anyway.
I looked down at Edgar, purring like a furry metronome. Then I looked around the room—soft lighting, secondhand furniture, and love in every corner.
“I don’t want to be bitter,” I said. “I want to be better.”
Susan smiled. “Then you already are.”
Chapter Twenty-One
JADE
The smell hitsme before the sight does—sickly, sour, rotting.
At first, I think it's just something in the air. Maybe trash nearby. Then I see it.
My Mini.
My sweet, slightly battered, high-mileage escape pod—stuffed to the brim with dead fish.
Dozens of them. Gutted. Staring. Their glassy eyes reflect the late afternoon light like some grotesque, mocking army.
My knees nearly buckle.
A group of students huddles nearby, phones out. Clicking. Recording. Whispering.
"Guess Leo’s done with his little charity case."
"Should’ve seen it coming—he always trades up after Thanksgiving."
"Fish? Really? That's savage."
I can’t move. My hands are fists at my sides. My jaw aches from clenching.
The fish weren’t just a prank—they were a message.
You were never one of us.
Someone shoves me lightly as they walk past. “Told you it was on when he was done.”
The words scrape like gravel against my raw skin. My breath catches, thick with humiliation.
And yet—I don’t cry.
I refuse to cry.
Not here. Not in front of them.
Instead, I pull out my phone, hands shaking only slightly, and start recording. I circle the car slowly, letting the camera capture every detail. The stench is overwhelming, curling in my throat like a curse.
“Evidence,” I mutter to myself, barely loud enough to hear over the rush in my ears.
