I’ve done nothing but suffer and stew in my own pit of misery, allowing the man who was supposed to be my savior, break me and whittle me down to the mess I am today.
Her eyes widen as confusion flashes across her face and recognition storms her eyes.
“Amber.” The word leaves my mouth like it’s toxic. Years of resentment condensed into a single syllable. I can taste the sorrow instantly.
Her expression shifts.
“Pippa?”
The name slams into me like a fist to the ribs, the betrayal heavy. My initial shock fractures into something blisteringly ugly as my hands curl into fists inside my pockets and heat floods my chest.
She doesn’t even recognize me.
After all this time.
“You insensitive bitch! Seriously? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” A rage almost impossible to contain, erupts without warning. It isn’t just the name. It’s five years of being erased like I never even mattered to her.
She moves her kid behind her as she squares up, ready for a war she started.
“What, Pippa? Can’t handle seeing me after all this time?” she asks, smiling smugly. “Feeling a bit guilty are we?”
The audacity of everything that is happening makes my stomach twist.
She actually thinks I’m Pippa.
I study her for a second, doing whatever I can to blink this nightmare away, but it lingers, forcing me back to a reality I don’t want to be a part of. “You really think I’m her, don’t you? Have you been gone so long that you can’t even see the difference?”
Her face drains instantly of all color.
Good. Let her feel my fucking pain for once.
“Poppy?”
I roll my eyes, anger and hurt colliding violently in my chest.
“Ding. Ding. Ding. Damn, Amber. I thought you were dumb before, but for you to stand there and call me by her name. That’s just low. Even for you.”
Five years have passed between us, and she has the audacity to mistaken me for my dead sister. A death she had a part in.
“I’m sorry, I thought—”
“You thought I was her?”
She nods, guilt flickering in her eyes as something toxic coils in my chest.
“Well, news flash, bitch, I’m not. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m not disappointed; I’m happy that it’s you and not her.” Her voice is far too friendly. She sounds like she actually genuinely misses me, when we both know she hasn’t thought about me in years. If she did, she would’ve called. Would’ve checked in. Would’ve saved me from hurting myself like I have.
My laughter spills out of me like I’m some crazed maniac, barely able to grasp what’s happening right now. “You fucking shouldn’t be. I hate you just as much as she did.”
Amber’s brows scrunches in confusion. “Did?”
The grief slaps me hard, clawing at my insides with vicious intent.
“Yeah, bitch. My sister’s dead. But you would’ve known that if you had returned any of my calls, texts, or emails.”
Her eyes widen in horror.
