Chapter 37: Like Pretense wasn't Enough

The laughter from the two girls behind Sarah was sharp and ugly, the kind that cuts right through your skin. I could feel their eyes crawling all over me, dissecting, judging, savoring the moment like vultures circling something that had already fallen.

Sarah took a step closer, and her voice, so familiar once, came out dripping with contempt. “You know, looking back, I don’t even know why I was your best friend in the first place. You’re just so pathetic. And when it came to Kevin, you acted like some jealous, desperate girlfriend.”

Her words stung, not because they were true, but because there was once a time I would’ve cared what she thought. I used to value her opinion, her approval. Now her voice just sounded hollow. Still, my fingers twitched at my side. I wanted—badly—to slap that smug look right off her face.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair instead, trying to steady the rising storm inside me. “For a moment,” she went on, her lips curling into a cruel smirk, “I thought there was something fishy going on between you two siblings, but turns out, you were just jealous of me.”

That laugh of hers—mocking, poisonous—echoed through the air. I stared at her, really looked at her, and wondered how I’d ever let someone like this so close to me.

“Are you done?” I asked finally, my voice coming out calm, flat, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

Something in my tone must’ve struck a nerve because her expression shifted, anger flickering through her eyes. Without warning, her hand whipped across my face with a sharp crack.

The slap was loud, jarring. My head snapped to the side. For a moment, I just stood there, blinking, the sting spreading across my cheek in slow, burning waves.

I didn’t slap her back. I could’ve, maybe I even should’ve—but I didn’t. I just scoffed quietly, my throat tight, my eyes watering—not from the pain, but from the exhaustion of it all.

Then, like fate was trying to save me from completely losing it, I heard the sound of a car pulling up. Headlights washed over the pavement, and Samuel’s familiar black sedan rolled to a stop right beside us.

I turned back to Sarah, meeting her glare with something that felt like cold acceptance. “Well,” I said quietly, my voice barely above the hum of the car engine, “it appears that you are the one who’s pathetic.”

I didn’t wait for her to respond. I just walked past her, my heels clicking on the pavement, each step feeling heavier than the last. I opened the car door and slid into the seat without looking back.

Samuel glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He just started the car and drove. The world outside blurred into streaks of neon and shadow, the club lights fading behind us.

Silence hung between us for a while—thick, uncomfortable, but also oddly comforting. Then Samuel’s voice, calm and steady as always, broke through it. “Friends fight. It happens all the time.”

I turned my head slowly, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “You saw that?” My voice cracked just slightly, even though I tried to sound unaffected.

He nodded once. “You two will be fine, trust me.”

I gave a small, tired laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. My eyes drifted to his reflection again, the way the passing lights brushed over his face, catching on the soft grey of his stubble. “I don’t think we’ll be,” I said quietly. “It’s already too late for that.”

He didn’t argue. He just smiled—a small, awkward, sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and focused back on the road.

After a while, I spoke again, my tone soft but deliberate. “Just don’t mention it to my father, okay? I don’t want him overreacting about having to lose a member of the board.”

Because that’s what everything always came down to with my father—business, alliances, appearances. If he found out about the fight, it wouldn’t just be about my bruised cheek; it’d be about the potential fallout, the partnership with Sarah’s father, another fragile link in the chain he’d spent years building.

Samuel’s eyes flicked to me in the mirror again before he nodded. “I understand.”

I let out a slow breath, the kind that trembled halfway out of my chest. “Thank you.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city lights smear across it like brushstrokes. My cheek still stung, but it wasn’t just from Sarah’s slap—it was from everything that had led up to this night. The lies, the heartbreak, the exhaustion of pretending I wasn’t falling apart.

And as Samuel’s car carried me away, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything left of the person I used to be—or if this version of me, bruised and quiet and hollow, was all that remained.

The moment Samuel pulled up at the mansion, my pulse was already a slow, dull drum in my chest. I didn’t even wait for him to fully stop before pushing the door open, desperate to be swallowed by silence, by anything that wasn’t tonight. But of course, peace had a way of running from me these days.

Jordan stood at the entrance like a stain I couldn’t scrub off. Hands tucked into his pockets, posture neat, voice rehearsed. The sight of him sent an immediate wave of irritation crawling beneath my skin. I felt my jaw tighten before I even spoke.

“What are you doing here, Jordan?” The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. My patience was a thin thread, and he wasn’t worth the effort of politeness. “I thought I told you the last time to fuck off?”

He flinched slightly, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to rearrange his words into something palatable. “I know, Abby. I know I come off to you as someone who is arrogant, and self-centered, but I mean no harm.”

I almost laughed. It wasn’t the funny kind of laugh, though—it was the exhausted kind, the one that tastes like metal and irony. “You haven’t answered my question.”

His shoulders sagged, a visible attempt at sincerity. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry—about bumping into you the other day at the elevator, showing up unannounced at your house, and being introduced as a potential suitor. I had no idea the lady I was arranged to meet would be you.”

It was the tone, more than the words, that made me exhale sharply. I crossed my arms, staring at him like maybe if I glared hard enough, he’d disappear. “And your point?”

“My point is, neither you nor I want this arrangement.” He said it quickly, like he’d been holding his breath for hours and finally let it go.

A small, involuntary wave of relief flickered through me. “Good.” The word felt heavy but freeing, like untying a rope around my neck.

He nodded, almost eagerly. “Let’s go inside and talk more—”

My irritation spiked again, snapping through the relief like static. “What else do you want to talk about?”

He hesitated, eyes darting toward the ground as if he was afraid of what he was about to say next. “Since we’re two grown adults who do not want to go ahead with the ridiculous marriage imposed on us…” he trailed off, trying to sound logical, maybe even persuasive. “I propose that we date for a month. At least pretend…”

I didn’t even let him finish. The audacity of it made my chest tighten. Pretend.

Pretend like I hadn’t already been pretending enough in my life—pretending not to care, pretending I was fine, pretending that what Kevin and I share didn't exist, pretending I hadn’t just fallen apart in front of the club an hour ago.

“There’ll be no need for that.” My voice came out low and steady, but inside I could feel the ache building again, that mix of anger and exhaustion that always lived just beneath my ribs.

He blinked, caught off guard by how quickly I dismissed him.

I didn’t wait for his next sentence. My hands were trembling slightly, but I didn’t hide it. I was too tired to play composed. Too tired for games—his or anyone else’s.

The air between us felt thick, suffocating, and all I could think was how much I wanted to get away—to crawl into bed, shut the world out, and let the walls hold the pieces of me that were left.