When I reached our floor, I hesitated outside her door. I could hear the muffled sound of her TV through the wall. I leaned back against the wallpaper, heart knocking painfully against my ribs, not brave enough to knock, but not brave enough to walk away either.
Fuck, she had no idea.
No idea she was the whole reason I hadn’t fucked up in weeks. No idea she was the reason my life was on the rails for once.
Eventually, I tore myself away and stumbled into my room. My back hit the bed hard, and I stared up at the ceiling searching my thoughts for clarity.
What I needed was to give her space. Time. But it didn’t stop it from killing me.
And lying there, all I could hear were her words from earlier:
“You don’t give up, do you?”
Not on you, Doc.
Not a fucking chance.
Chapter 23
Orla
Oh,for fuck’s sake. Surely it couldn’t be morning yet. I groaned and reached blindly for my phone which was buzzing on the side table. I hadn’t managed to fall asleep until two a.m., still fighting the damn time zones and absolutely not because my brain wouldn’t shut up about the man sleeping ten steps away. And definitely not because I kept wondering whether he was awake too. Thinking about me.
I groaned, cracking one eye open and peering at the time in the corner of my phone—six a.m. But the noise wasn’t my alarm, just a notification. I rolled over, dragging the extra thick duvet and phone with me.
Gwen’s name lit up the screen in the darkness of my room. I unlocked it, still half-asleep.
Gwen:
I’ve just seen Josh’s Instagram. Are you okay?
Josh? Why would I have even seen that?
My stomach bottomed out. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, that horrible white-noise rush you get right before bad news lands. If she was asking if I was ok, this couldn’t be good.
I hadn’t thought about that prick in months. I’d blocked him a year ago. His number, his socials, his entire smug face out of my life. All I knew was that he’d moved on fast. New girlfriend. Some younger, blonde girl who was far shinier and newer than I was. Whatever. I’d convinced myself it didn’t matter anymore.
Me:
Blocked the fucker. No idea what you’re talking about.
The typing bubbles appeared. Disappeared then came back again.
For fuck’s sake, Gwen. Just spit it out.
Then the screenshot landed. I stared at it for a full thirty seconds before my brain caught up. My vision tunneled, the whole room felt darkened by a storm cloud.
It was a picture of Josh. Arm slung aroundhershoulders. Both of them grinning like life was perfect. In her hand, she held up a glossy black-and-white photo of a baby scan.
The phone felt heavy in my palm. My chest hollowed out, then caved in all at once.
No caption. Just a date six months from now and their stupid smug faces. The kind of post people share when they’re proud and can’t wait to tell the world. For a moment, I thought I might be sick. It felt like watching someone else live the life I’d begged him to want. Of courseshe’dbeen enough for him.
He said he didn’t want kids; that was why things between us ended. It was the hill our whole relationship died on.
He couldn’t picture himself as a dad. Said he’d never want that responsibility. That I deserved someone who did. And now he’d gone and knocked her up, smiled for the camera, and posted it for the world to cheer over.
I shot upright like I’d been electrocuted. The burn started in my chest and spread through every limb, a sick mix of fury and humiliation.
