Page 100

Unknown: All those dramas over things you made up so you could have an excuse to be free and spread your legs for a man who fucks whoever he wants. I put a ring on your finger, and you ran off to become one of the many women at his feet. I stayed and waited for you to realize the mistake you were making by ending things with me, while you were already being used by a man who won’t think twice before replacing you once he gets bored. Good luck fixing your reputation after he’s done with you. But don’t think you’ll have anywhere left to come back to. You lost every chance of ever having a relationship with me again.

That is the first thing I see on my phone when I wake up.

Even though it comes from an unknown number, it’s obvious who sent it. I don’t understand why he didn’t text me from his actual number—the one I had saved for years.

Only now do I realize that, ever since the night Zayn answered my phone, Axel hasn’t tried to contact me again. No calls. No messages. Nothing.

I’ve been so caught up in my new life, in this routine that has slowly formed around me without me even noticing, and I’ve pushed this part of my life so far into the back of my mind that I almost forgot it was there. A door I desperately wanted to close, and deep down, I had hoped I could close it gently. On good terms.

I’m not angry at Axel. I don’t resent him. And as strange as it sounds after everything that happened between us, I genuinely want him to be happy.

It hurt when he cheated on me… the first few times.

Then it stopped hurting as much.

Eventually, I stopped caring altogether.

Toward the end of our relationship, I found myself praying he would meet someone else. Fall in love. Leave first.

It’s awful. I know it.

I should’ve put on my big-girl pants and sat him down for a real conversation. One where I admitted that I didn’t feel anything romantic for him anymore. That I cared about him more like a friend—maybe even like family. A conversation where I confessed that our intimate moments had started to feel forced, and most of the time, I was simply waiting for them to end.

I should’ve told him that I forgave him for cheating and that I didn’t hate him for it. But something inside me broke permanently after what he did. Even though the pain faded a long time ago, he never looked the same in my eyes again.

I should’ve asked him to face reality with me.

He’s a good person. He’s charismatic, outgoing, the kind of person who naturally fills a room without trying. Together, we made a great couple. A great team.

Our relationship was passionate, intense—so intense that it burned through us too quickly. After that, we kept holding on to each other out of habit and fear. Fear of losing one another completely.

Neither of us knew how to let go.

So we stayed tied to something that didn’t necessarily make us miserable every single day, but where neither of us was truly fulfilled either.

Maybe if we’d had that conversation, he would’ve gotten angry. Maybe he would’ve blamed me. Maybe he would’ve made a scene.

But maybe… eventually, he would’ve understood that I was right.

Over the past month, it’s been easier not to think about him at all than to give myself even a single day to try to make peace with our past. To explain my new reality before he found out through the press.

Because I’m almost certain that’s what happened last night, before he sent me this message.

My phone keeps vibrating in my hand. There are so many notifications that they’ve all blurred together by app. Messages, comments, tags, likes, mentions—on every app imaginable.

An entire storm is waiting for me on the other side of the screen.

I don’t try to call Zayn. He woke me up before leaving earlier this morning and told me he had a few urgent meetings, but that we’re supposed to meet the others at Thalia and Ethan’s house around noon to go over the final details for the event.

Before I open a single notification, I force myself out of bed and walk straight to the bathroom. I need to be fully awake for whatever is about to happen next.

Fifteen minutes later, as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, I allow myself the luxury of admiring Zayn’s house all over again.

The first time I came here, it left me speechless.

From the moment you reach the gates of their property, you realize that whatever waits on the other side is something you could never fully prepare yourself for.

Something grand.