***"I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending.***
***You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?" - Taylor Swift***
***Alissa Blake***
I couldn’t say I wasn’t frustrated that Holden hadn’t called me again. But I understood that maybe he needed time to process everything that was happening.
Dealing with fame and controlling parents must drain anyone’s energy—I could only imagine, considering the closest reference I had was my own terrible parents.
Thinking about that made my hands sweat as I lugged my suitcases around. I had packed nearly all my clothes, which weren’t many because I didn’t know how long I’d stay—or rather, how big this problem was going to be.
Picturing a child in that house sent me to dark places in my mind, and all I could do was pray that she was okay, especially now that they had found out she’d reached out to me. How could they possibly be fine with this? They’d hated me for as long as I could remember.
I’d spent so much time wondering why my parents hated me. Aside from the fact that I had robbed them of their freedom and ruined my mother’s body—as she so frequently reminded me—I couldn’t think of anything plausible.
Not that hatred needs a justification, but there had to be something, right? For years, I racked my brain, asking myself that over and over. Did this little girl feel the same way? Did she stay up at night crying, wondering why God had cursed her with this family?
I hoped not. But knowing them as I did, it was almost impossible not to see her as a mirror of myself.
As I sat in the cold, hard airport chair, waiting for my delayed flight that seemed like it would never take off, I kept rereading her messages and staring at her photo. Morgan—a beautiful little girl with blonde hair and brown eyes. So different from me, like she belonged to another family altogether.
My black hair and blue eyes never made sense. I’d wondered if that was the reason they hated me—because I was different. But it didn’t make sense to speculate further. Why would they have taken in a baby when they hadn’t even wanted a child in the first place? They’d always made that crystal clear.
I got lost in thought, still sitting in that freezing chair. The airport air conditioning felt relentless, and people around me huddled together with their bags, trying to warm themselves with their body heat.
The TV in the waiting area droned on, playing gossip segments about influencers who had become celebrities. To me, they were nobodies. I wasn’t paying attention, not until something on the screen tore away every ounce of my peace of mind.
“Holden Young, the breakout British reality star, dazzles at the album launch party!”
My heart raced before my brain even registered what I was seeing. There he was—Holden. Impossibly handsome, as always, looking like a living work of art. The suit he wore was modern and stylish, his hair slicked back in a way that highlighted every perfect line of his face.
This wasn’t surprising—seeing him like this. After all, I’d had the privilege of experiencing his charm in person, and it still felt like a dream.
What made me want to rip my hair out strand by strand was the redhead hanging on to him like a designer accessory. I supposed that’s all she was—a prop to build this ridiculous narrative of the industry’s golden couple.
But Holden looked at her in a way that made my stomach drop. That look—the same one he’d given me so many times. Full of admiration, affection, almost reverence. And this time, it wasn’t for me.
Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, he topped it all off. He pulled her close, casually, confidently, and kissed her. Not just any kiss—a kiss straight out of a movie, brimming with passion. Enough passion to turn my nightmare into a very public spectacle.
I knew this tour would take Holden away from me. That was something I had already braced myself for. But this feeling of loss had come earlier than expected, the seed planted by his parents when they went out of their way to destroy us.
Still, he’d been so determined, so kind, so insistent that we could overcome it all. I’d started to believe him, even after our argument.
I had clung to hope. I thought that, in the end, I’d come back full of doubts and insecurities, but he’d be there—waiting, with open arms, to reassure me.
But life doesn’t offer certainties. Not even love.
And Holden proved that to me. He made me open up, and break down walls and barriers I never thought I’d lower for anyone. And in the end, he acted like every other man—grabbing onto Chloe as a lifeline to escape his daddy issues. It was clear as day.
I should’ve seen it coming.
We were both walking disasters. But if Holden couldn’t bear the weight of those obstacles, he shouldn’t have reminded me just how much I loved him.
And now, seeing that scene on TV, I realized how naive I’d been. Holden wasn’t fighting for us anymore. He was giving up.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better this way.
My thoughts spiraled, each one messier than the last. But amidst the chaos, one truth stood out: I couldn’t think about him anymore. Not now. Not while Morgan was in that house, needing someone to protect her.
I gripped the handle of my suitcase tightly, as if it could somehow ground me, and tried to ignore the lump forming in my throat.
Finally, my flight was called, and I stood up.
Thank God. The last thing I wanted was to start crying in the middle of an airport.
"Good luck, Holden." I stole one last glance at the TV before heading to the boarding gate.