Chloe Waller POV:

The world tilted on its axis. I watched, as if in slow motion, as the tight knot of anxiety on Holden' s brow smoothed out, replaced by a look of dazed, unmistakable relief. He was happy. The thought was a shard of ice in my heart.

"Wow," I managed to breathe out, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. "That' s… that' s great news. Congratulations."

Fabiola' s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Thank you, Chloe! We' re so excited." She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Could you do me a huge favor and keep this a secret for a little while? We want to tell our parents in person, make it a special surprise."

Holden just stood there, a goofy, shell-shocked smile on his face, nodding in agreement. He was going to be a father. With her. He didn' t even glance at me. It was like I wasn' t even there.

A desperate, foolish question clawed its way up my throat. "Aren' t you… scared? I mean, you haven' t even graduated yet."

Fabiola waved a dismissive hand, the large diamond on her finger catching the light. "Please. I can just take a semester or two off. My family will be thrilled. They' ve been wanting me to settle down." Her gaze flickered to me, a glint of steel beneath the sweetness.

"Chloe, please," Holden finally said, his voice soft but firm. He was looking at me now, but his eyes were pleading on Fabiola' s behalf. "Just for a little while. Don' t tell anyone."

The weight of his request pressed down on me, suffocating me. My entire body felt tight, coiled like a spring. I was the keeper of their happy secret, a secret that was tearing me apart from the inside out.

I gave a jerky nod, unable to form words. "I have to go," I mumbled, turning and walking away as fast as my trembling legs would carry me. I didn' t look back, but I could feel Holden' s surprised gaze on me. My brisk departure was so unlike my usual lingering presence in his life.

I ducked into an alleyway, the stench of garbage filling my lungs, and slid down the wall, my body finally giving out. The tears came, silent and agonizing. It was real. It was all real. A baby. A family. A future that I was no part of.

Let him go, a voice in my head screamed. He' s a father now. You have to let him go.

But why did it have to be so fast? How could seventeen years of shared history, of inside jokes and secret promises, be erased by a few months of whirlwind romance?

Back at the hospital, Fabiola watched me flee, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She turned to Holden, who was still staring after me with a frown.

"Holden?" she said softly, her hand on his arm. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It' s nothing."

"Are you… mad at me?" she asked, her lower lip trembling slightly. "For getting your mom that special tea from abroad? I know you said she didn' t want to bother anyone with her illness, but I just wanted to help…"

Holden' s expression softened. He pulled her into a hug, ruffling her hair. "Of course not. Don' t be silly. It was a good excuse. Thank you." He glanced one last time in the direction I had disappeared, a strange, unreadable emotion in his eyes.

Fabiola saw that glance. She felt the subtle shift in his attention. And in that moment, a cold, hard determination settled in her heart. She knew I was in love with Holden. It was pathetically obvious. And she would not, under any circumstances, give me a single chance to win him back.

A few days later, my phone buzzed with a text from Fabiola.

Hey Chloe! Me and some friends are going shopping downtown. You should come! It' ll be fun :) xoxo

I stared at the message, a wave of nausea rolling through me. The last thing I wanted to do was spend an afternoon with the woman who was living my dream.

"You should go," my mother said, peering over my shoulder. "It' s good to get out. And it' s important to get along with your best friend' s girlfriend."

The tremor in my voice was undeniable as I replied. "Okay, Mom." Her face softened with a pang of sympathy. She knew how much this was costing me.

The shopping trip was a special kind of torture. Fabiola and her two friends, both carbon copies of her in their designer clothes and bored expressions, floated from one high-end boutique to another. I trailed behind them, a silent, awkward shadow.

We took a break at a chic little café. The girls chattered on, their conversation a dizzying swirl of gossip and brand names.

"Oh, Fabi, that necklace is divine!" one of them, a blonde named Tiffany, gushed. "Is it new?"

Fabiola' s hand went to the delicate diamond pendant at her throat. "Holden gave it to me last night," she said, her voice dripping with casual pride. "Isn' t he the sweetest?"

I felt a familiar pang. Holden had never given me jewelry. Not once in seventeen years.

Just then, Fabiola' s phone rang. Her face lit up. "It' s him!" she squealed, answering with a syrupy, "Hey, baby."

I tried to tune out her side of the conversation, focusing on stirring my overpriced latte, but her words were like tiny daggers. "Oh, that' s amazing! … Yes, of course, I' ll be there. … I love you too."

She hung up, her face glowing. "Holden' s mom wants to meet me," she announced to the table. "She invited me over for dinner tonight."

"Oh my god, you' re meeting the parents!" Tiffany shrieked. "The wedding is totally happening!"

I felt the air leave my lungs. Wedding. The word echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. I would probably be asked to be a bridesmaid. The thought was so grotesquely painful I almost laughed out loud.

Fabiola' s eyes, sharp and calculating, landed on me. "You should come with me to visit Mrs. King sometime, Chloe. I' m sure she' d love to see you." It was a power play, a way of reminding me of her new, intimate place in the King family, a place that used to be mine.

"I' m a little busy with midterms," I said, my voice tight. "But please tell her I said hello."

"Of course," Fabiola said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "I' ll be sure to tell her. Maybe next time Holden can host you himself." The implication was clear: He is the host now, and you are the guest.

I felt a wave of shame and inadequacy wash over me. Fabiola was beautiful, confident, and from a world of wealth and influence I could only imagine. What did I have to offer in comparison? A quiet, steadfast love he didn' t even want.

Fabiola and her friends stood up to leave for their dinner appointment. I was about to gather my things and head home when Tiffany, the blonde, "accidentally" stumbled.

Her full, scalding hot cup of coffee flew through the air and landed directly on my chest and arm.

Chloe Waller POV:

A searing, white-hot pain exploded across my skin. I cried out, jumping to my feet as the scalding liquid soaked through my sweater.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled, my voice shaking with pain and fury as I glared at Tiffany.

She feigned a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Oh my god, Chloe, I am so, so sorry! It was an accident!" She reached out as if to touch the angry red blotches already forming on my skin.

"Don' t touch me!" I snapped, recoiling. The pain was intensifying, a vicious, burning throb.

The commotion had attracted the attention of the other patrons and the café staff.

"This is a warning, you little bitch," Tiffany hissed under her breath, her sweet facade dropping for a second to reveal the venom beneath. "Stay away from Holden."

Her words hit me harder than the coffee. This was deliberate. This was a message from Fabiola.

A waiter rushed over with a damp cloth and a first-aid kit. Tiffany was still putting on a show, dabbing uselessly near my arm, her touch making me flinch. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes, and I slapped her hand away.

"Get away from me!"

"Did Fabiola put you up to this?" I demanded, my voice trembling.

Tiffany' s eyes widened in mock horror. "What? Of course not! Fabiola would never! I was just trying to help her out, that' s all. You should know your place." Her voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Don' t make me warn you again."

There was nothing left to say. The cruelty of it all was breathtaking. I turned and walked out of the café, ignoring the stares and whispers, my arm screaming in protest. A small, naive part of me prayed that Fabiola really didn't know, that her friend had acted alone.

My parents were horrified when I got home. My mother gently cleaned and bandaged the burn, her lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

"You need to stay away from them, Chloe," she said, her voice firm. "These are not good people."

I nodded numbly and, for a week, I followed her advice. I ignored Holden' s texts, I let his calls go to voicemail. I couldn' t face him. I couldn' t pretend to be happy for him when his new life was a constant source of pain, and his new girlfriend was actively trying to hurt me.

Then, one afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was Holden, holding a small, gift-wrapped box.

"Chlo, I was so worried," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "Fabiola told me what happened. I' m so sorry. I had no idea until today."

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. Of course. He was here to do damage control for Fabiola.

"It' s fine. I' m fine," I said, my voice flat. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. "You didn' t have to come."

"Of course I did," he said, pushing the box into my hands. "I don' t want things to be weird between us, Chlo."

Too late, I screamed in my head. The weirdness is a permanent resident now. It' s moved in and redecorated.

"We just don' t get along with Fabiola' s friends," I said, forcing a placating tone.

He looked relieved. "Okay, well, just ignore them then. You don' t have to interact with her." His loyalty, I noted with a fresh pang of hurt, was already decided.

"What if she did it on purpose, Holden?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I had to know. I had to see if he would believe me.

He looked shocked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Tiffany? No way. She' s not like that. You' re probably just being a little sensitive, Chlo."

There it was. He chose her. He chose them. He trusted the word of a girl he' d known for a few months over me, his seventeen-year-long "sister." The disappointment was a physical weight in my chest.

"Yeah," I said, my voice hollow. "Maybe you' re right. I' m just tired. I think I' m going to lie down."

It was a clear dismissal, and after a moment of hesitation, he left.

Alone in my room, I opened the gift. It was a pair of delicate silver earrings.

I don' t have pierced ears. Holden knew this. We' d had a whole conversation about it last year when I' d considered getting them done and then chickened out.

Then, another memory surfaced. A conversation with Fabiola at that horrible shopping trip. She' d been complaining about a gift from Holden. "He bought me these hideous earrings," she' d whined. "I told him to take them back."

He' d given me Fabiola' s reject gift. A hand-me-down. An afterthought.

A single tear plopped onto the velvet box. I couldn' t even be bothered to wipe it away. With a surge of anger, I threw the box into the trash can.

As I did, the room suddenly swam. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my vision went black for a terrifying second. I gripped the edge of my desk, my heart pounding, until the world righted itself.

Shaken, I stumbled out of my room. "Mom," I called out, forcing a brightness I didn' t feel. "I' m starving."

I had to be normal. I had to be okay.

Chloe Waller POV:

A few nights later, I was walking home from a late study session at the library, the strap of my portfolio digging into my shoulder. As I passed the city' s most exclusive jewelry district, a flash of movement in a brightly lit storefront caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was Holden and Fabiola. They were in Cartier, standing at a private viewing counter, looking at rings.

Fabiola held up her hand, a massive diamond winking on her finger. She was beaming, turning her hand this way and that, admiring the sparkle. "Put it on for me, Holden," she cooed, sliding the ring off and handing it to him.

Holden took the ring and, with a tender smile that twisted my insides into a painful knot, he slid it onto her finger. He did it without a single ounce of hesitation, his movements full of a gentle reverence I had never seen from him before.

My heart didn' t just break. It plummeted into a dark, bottomless abyss.

For seven years, I had loved him. Seven years of quiet devotion, of unwavering support, of secret, hopeless pining. And it had all been erased by six months. My seven years couldn' t compete with her six months.

Fabiola' s gaze flickered towards the window and our eyes met. Her smile tightened, and a flash of pure venom crossed her face before being replaced by a mask of saccharine sweetness.

She quickly grabbed Holden' s arm, preventing him from turning around. "Oh, baby, we should get a little something for Chloe, too," she said loudly, her voice dripping with fake generosity. "As a thank you for being such a supportive friend."

Holden, oblivious, beamed. "That' s a great idea, Fab."

His easy agreement was another twist of the knife. Fabiola' s mood soured instantly. She made a quick excuse and dragged Holden out of the store, her grip on his arm like a vice. Before he could spot me, she pulled me into the dark, narrow alleyway beside the shop.

"We' re picking out our engagement ring," she hissed, her face inches from mine, her sweet facade completely gone. "We' re getting engaged."

The portfolio I was holding slipped from my numb fingers, crashing to the ground. The sound echoed in the sudden silence.

"You' re… getting engaged?" I whispered, the words feeling like sandpaper in my throat.

She nodded, a cruel, triumphant smile spreading across her face. "Yes. And you can be my maid of honor, if you want. A front-row seat to our happiness."

My vision started to tunnel. The edges went dark and fuzzy, and a dull, heavy throbbing began behind my eyes.

"Congratulations," I choked out, the words automatic, meaningless.

I watched them walk away, hand in hand, disappearing into the twilight. I stood in that alley for a long time, the cold seeping into my bones, my legs numb and tingling.

The world had gone quiet. The city sounds faded into a dull roar.

A scuffling sound from the far end of the alley broke the silence. A man stumbled out of the shadows, reeking of stale beer and muttering curses under his breath.

My heart lurried. I tried to move, to run, but my legs felt like they were filled with cement. I stumbled and fell to my knees.

"Well, well, what have we here?" the man slurred, his eyes, dark and predatory, fixing on me. He took a staggering step closer.

Panic, cold and sharp, finally cut through my stupor. I scrambled backwards, my hands scraping against the rough pavement.

"Get away from me!" I cried.

He lunged, his grimy hand clamping over my mouth, his other arm wrapping around my waist like a band of steel. He started dragging me deeper into the darkness.

"You' re a pretty little thing," he rasped, his foul breath hot against my ear. "Just be a good girl and no one gets hurt."

Terror gave me a surge of strength. I bit down on his hand, hard. He roared in pain, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second. It was all I needed. I wriggled free and ran.

I didn' t get far. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back with brutal force. My vision exploded in a shower of white stars, and then everything went black.

As my consciousness faded, a single, hazy thought flickered through the darkness. A figure. A man' s silhouette, running towards the mouth of the alley.

"Hey! Get away from her!" a voice yelled.

Then, there was only silence.