Chapter 219
Chapter 219
Sadie's POV
Liam sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I just... I hate seeing him like this. And I hate that I don't know why you left. You were happy. I know you were."
I was.
God, I was so happy.
And then Charles Montgomery had shown me those police reports, those hospital photos, and everything had shattered.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"Yeah." Liam's smile was sad. "It always is."
The rest of dinner passed in a blur. I answered when spoken to, smiled when appropriate, and counted down the minutes until I could leave.
Finally, Richard called for the check.
"We're staying through the weekend," he said as we stood. "Perhaps we could all have lunch on Saturday? Just the family?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Outside, Mom hugged me tight. "Go home," she whispered. "Take a bath. Rest."
I did neither.
Instead, I walked. Through Covent Garden, down the Strand, across Waterloo Bridge. The Thames stretched dark and endless below, reflecting city lights like fallen stars.
I stopped in the middle of the bridge, gripping the railing.
Three years.
Three years of running, and I hadn't moved an inch.
Jake was at Harvard. Managing his family's empire. Probably surrounded by brilliant, beautiful girls who didn't carry the weight of patricide in their blood.
And I was here. Alone. Pretending I'd chosen this.
My phone buzzed.
Liam: I'm sorry if I pushed too hard tonight. I just worry about both of you.
I typed back: It's okay. I understand.
Liam: For what it's worth, I don't think he's moved on. I don't think he can.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then I turned off my phone and walked home through the rain.
---
That night, I did what I'd promised myself I'd never do.
I took out the SIM card.
Slipped it into my phone.
Watched three years of notifications flood the screen.
Missed calls: 247.
Voicemails: 86.
Text messages: too many to count.
I scrolled through them with shaking hands.
The first few were from the day I left. Confused, worried.
Where are you?
Sadie, please call me.
Then came anger.
You can't just disappear. We need to talk about this.
I deserve an explanation.
Then desperation.
Please. Just tell me what I did wrong.
I'll fix it. Whatever it is, I'll fix it.
Baby, please.
And finally, the last message. Sent six months after I'd left.
I don't understand. I'll never understand. But if you're happy, if you're safe, then I'll try to let you go. I love you. I'll always love you. Even if you don't love me back.
The phone slipped from my hands, clattering on the bathroom floor.
I curled up in the empty bathtub, still fully dressed, and cried until there was nothing left.
---
Christmas came and went.
Liam and Richard flew in as promised, bringing gifts and cheer and carefully avoiding any mention of Jake.
But I saw it in Liam's eyes every time he looked at me. The question he was too kind to ask.
Why?
On Christmas Eve, we sat in Mom's flat, drinking mulled wine and watching old movies. Liam kept checking his phone, smiling at messages I couldn't see.
"Who's that?" I asked, grateful for the distraction.
"Brooklyn." He grinned. "We're still together, you know. Three years strong."
My heart clenched. "That's wonderful. I'm happy for you."
"She asks about you sometimes. They all do. Maya, Zoe, even that girl from your literature class—what was her name?"
"I don't remember."
He gave me a look that said he knew I was lying.
"They miss you, Sadie. Your friends. They don't understand why you cut them off."
"I didn't cut them off. I just... moved on."
"To what? Sitting alone in a library for twelve hours a day? Mom says you barely leave your flat except for classes."
"I'm focused on my studies."
"You're hiding."
I stood abruptly. "I'm going to get more wine."
In the kitchen, I gripped the counter and breathed.
Liam followed.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't mean to push. I just... I care about you. And I hate seeing you like this."
"Like what?"
"Like a ghost."
The word hit harder than it should have.
I turned to face him. "I'm fine, Liam. Really."
"Are you?" He stepped closer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're punishing yourself for something. And I can't figure out what."
Being born.
Having a father who's a monster.
Loving someone I had no right to love.
"There's nothing to figure out," I said instead. "I just needed a fresh start."
He studied me for a long moment. Then, softly: "He's not doing well, you know. Jake. He works all the time, barely sleeps. Won't talk about what happened between you two. Just... shuts down whenever your name comes up."
My hands were shaking again.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I never wanted to hurt him."
"Then why did you?"
I couldn't answer.
Liam sighed, pulling me into a hug. "Whatever happened, whatever made you leave—I hope someday you can tell me. Because I think you're both suffering for no reason."
If only that were true.
---
Valentine's Day was the worst.
I'd signed up for extra shifts at the library, desperate for distraction. But everywhere I looked, there were couples. Holding hands. Exchanging flowers. Kissing in the stacks when they thought no one was watching.
I lasted until noon before I had to leave.
Outside, the sky was gray and heavy with unshed rain. I walked without direction, ending up at a small café near Russell Square.
Inside, I ordered tea I didn't want and sat by the window.
A couple at the next table was celebrating. The man had brought a bouquet of red roses, and the woman was crying happy tears.
I looked away.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mom.
Thinking of you today, sweetheart. I love you.
I sent back a heart emoji and put the phone face-down on the table.
Three years ago today, Jake had left a note in my locker at Lincoln Heights High.
You are my favorite person in the world. — J
I'd kept it. Of course I'd kept it.
It was in the jewelry box with the SIM card, tucked away with all the other things I couldn't bear to look at but couldn't throw away.
The couple at the next table kissed, and I stood abruptly, leaving money on the table and walking out into the cold.
It started to rain.
I didn't have an umbrella.
Didn't care.
I walked until my clothes were soaked through, until my teeth were chattering, until I couldn't feel my fingers.
And then I went home, climbed into bed fully dressed, and pulled Jake's hoodie over my head.
It didn't smell like him anymore.
But I pretended it did.