“Yes,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good.” He drew me closer, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, a gesture that felt like a definitive end to our conversation. “I’m just looking out for you. The sooner that wedding takes place, the sooner you can close that chapter for good. And after that, we’re catching the first flight out of New Hope and leaving all of this behind.”
I nodded again, though a heavy truth loomed in my chest like a storm cloud. He had no idea that I wasn’t ready to close any chapter. Dean had unraveled me long before Chloe ever got her claws into him, and no amount of “moving on” could rewrite the history we shared.
“Tomorrow is her rehearsal dinner,” Roman continued, his voice steady and authoritative. “You’re going to smile, act as if everything is normal. You might even catch the damn bouquet if she decides to toss one. You’re going to be happy for your sister. Understood?”
The words hung in the air, and I struggled to find a response. How could I explain to Roman that the thought of watching Dean build a life with my sister felt like a slow, agonizing bleed?
I just can’t do it. I never really got over him, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. I lied to myself, telling myself that I had moved on, that I hated him for sending that thoughtless text and ending things as if our time together meant nothing-only for him to pursue my sister right after.
If I opened my mouth, I would spill the truth: that witnessing Dean marry Chloe would feel like watching my heart shatter in slow motion. So instead, I chose silence.
–
How could anyone in my position manage to move on so swiftly?
“I’m heading back downstairs, and I hope this conversation doesn’t continue,” he said, his back rigid, hands clenching at his sides as if he were itching to strike something-or someone. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving me in a suffocating silence.
I slid down to the floor, a miserable heap of despair, pressing my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. But it was a futile effort. My shoulders trembled, my throat burned, and in that moment, I loathed the sound of my own crying.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop. My chest felt like it was being crushed under an unbearable weight, and I clutched it desperately, hoping to ease the pain. Nothing worked. I simply sat there, on the cold floor, crying like a lost child.
Why does Chloe always seem to get everything I desire? Now, even Roman-my Roman-is helping her keep it all.
Time blurred as I remained there, lost in my sorrow, until a gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Sav, are you okay?”
It was Alyssa.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I called out, hastily wiping my tear-streaked cheeks.
“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Grabbing the nearest thing-a bed cover-I attempted to wipe my eyes, striving to present myself as someone who hadn’t just been sobbing uncontrollably moments ago.
“Sure!” I managed to say, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.
She stepped inside, her perceptive gaze immediately piercing through my facade-of course she could see right through me.
“Sav, why are you crying?” she asked, her tone soft yet probing.
–
“Me? Crying? No, I wasn’t.” The denial escaped my lips too quickly, my voice rising an octave, betraying the calm I desperately wanted to project. I hastily rubbed the sleeve of my sweater across my eyes, the coarse fabric scratching my skin uncomfortably.
As if by some magical force, I could erase the image of vulnerability she might have glimpsed.
“Something just got in my eye, and Roman was helping me get it out,” I added, trying to weave a narrative that sounded plausible.
Her brows knitted together, a clear sign of disbelief, yet she offered a gentle smile. “Mind if I sit?” She gestured toward the edge of the bed, a simple request that felt monumental in the moment.
“Of course.” The words spilled out in a rush, and my gaze flitted nervously to the meticulously arranged duvet. Thank heavens Roman had a habit of keeping his living space immaculate. If she had walked in to see the usual chaos I left behind, I would have felt even more exposed.
As she settled onto the mattress, it dipped slightly beneath her weight, the springs creaking softly in response. Her hands glided nervously down her thighs, once, twice-an unconscious gesture that mirrored her unease. “I wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke,” she said, her voice measured, each word seemingly chosen with care as if she had rehearsed this moment.
“I realized that some of my words were a bit harsh and very uncalled for, and… I really shouldn’t have said those things to you. Especially about-“
“No, no, no. It’s fine.” I interrupted sharply, my hand slicing through the air as if I could physically sever the connection to that painful memory. “I didn’t take it to heart. It’s really fine, Alyssa.” I dismissed her concerns with a wave, though inside, I was trembling with the weight of unspoken truths.
Her gaze bore into me, as if she were trying to peer into the depths of my soul. Those eyes, unwavering and intense, reminded me of our childhood-when she would search for every secret I tried to conceal.
“Sav, are you okay?”
I nodded, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I even threw in a casual shrug, the kind people use in sitcoms to convey a facade of normalcy.
But she wasn’t buying it. No, she could see through my flimsy act.
The atmosphere between us shifted, thickening like the air before a summer storm. Alyssa took a deep breath, steadying herself before delivering the blow I hadn’t prepared for.
“I heard you crying from outside the door.”
Her words struck me like a bucket of icy water, shocking and disorienting.
Her brows furrowed, her tone low and careful. “Did Roman do anything? Did he say something? You can always talk to me.”
The room suddenly felt constricted, the air thinning around us. Heat prickled at my scalp, sliding down the back of my neck like a warning. My throat felt drier than the desert sun, parched and unyielding.
My palms grew slick with sweat, and I clenched them into fists to hide my trembling.
Still, I grappled with the need to fabricate a believable excuse.
“What? Crying? No… of course not.” My laugh came out brittle, an awkward sound that felt foreign to my ears. “I was sneezing. There was something in my throat-“
“Don’t lie to me, Sav. I’m your sister.” She leaned closer, her voice sharpening with concern. “I know you better than anyone.”
Her hand reached for mine, warm and reassuring, fingers wrapping around me with a quiet insistence that felt both comforting and terrifying.
“Talk to me. Please.”
I glanced down at our hands. Hers was steady, while mine trembled ever so slightly. I forced my gaze upward, inch by inch, until I met her eyes. The softness there wasn’t pity yet, but it was dangerously close.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.