Chapter 49 Breakdown
Isabella
It was early in the morning. I was scrolling through my phone when something suddenly caught my attention.
It was a post in our school group chat, made by a girl named Amaya. She had written, “Spending the holiday with my bae.” As I scrolled down, I saw she had attached a picture.
My heart stopped.
I sat up quickly on the bed and tapped on the photo, zooming in. Maybe I wasn’t seeing clearly. My eyes widened as my chest tightened.
That was her in the picture—her lips locked with a guy.
And not just any guy.
My boyfriend.
Or… was I wrong?
That was Cullen. Or did he have a twin? No—he never mentioned a twin. Oh no. This couldn’t be happening.
My hands started shaking as I backed out of the chat and opened my contacts. I needed to call him. This had to be a mistake.
My heart was pounding so hard, and suddenly, my stomach twisted—I felt like I needed to use the bathroom.
I called him, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again and again—same thing every time. Did he block me? No, that couldn’t be it. I kept dialing, but nothing changed.
Panic started rising; my vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. “Isa, calm down,” I told myself. I tried his number once more, biting my nails, but still no answer. Desperate, I went back to the group chat—maybe I’d misread it the first time.
There it was again: the photo of Cullen… and the flood of comments underneath. “Wow,” “When did this happen?” People were shocked, amused, reacting.
Maybe it was some stupid joke? But no—boys and girls don’t kiss like that and call it a prank.
I wanted to type something—anything—just to ask what was going on, but my fingers froze above the keyboard, trembling.
Then it hit me. I switched back to my contacts and quickly dialed Matt, his best friend. It rang… and rang. No answer. I called again. This time he picked up, voice thick with sleep.
“Yeah? Who’s this and why are you calling me so damn early?” he grumbled.
My voice shook as I asked, “Um… is Cullen with you right now?”
Silence. Then he spoke again, colder this time. “It’s the holiday, bitch. Why the hell would Cullen be at my place? That’s why you woke me up?”
He’d never spoken to me like that before. I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. “No, I just… I tried calling him, but it keeps going to voicemail,” I managed, tears already running down my cheeks.
Matt let out an irritated hiss, then gave a low, mocking chuckle. “If Cullen blocked your number, that means he’s done with you.”
The words stabbed into my chest. What did he mean, done?
“You know,” he went on, “he told all of us how he fucked you… and you just let him.” He clicked his tongue in disgust. “I actually thought you were different, Isabella. Turns out you’re just like the others. Spread your legs for him—maybe you’ll do the same for me.”
The words felt like poison. I flung the phone onto the bed as if it had burned me.
No. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some sick joke. Had Cullen really played me like this? I dragged my fingers through my hair, head spinning, heart hammering as I looked around the room in a daze.
No, I needed to call him again. Matt was just talking trash… right? But then how did he know we’d had sex—unless Cullen had told him everything himself?
My phone suddenly rang, and when I glanced at the screen, my heart lurched—it was Cullen calling.
I answered immediately, my voice barely above a whisper. “What was that picture in the group chat?” I asked, my chest tight, completely unprepared for what came next.
“Oh, that,” he said casually. “Was that why you called Matt so early? Come on, Isabella, you should know by now—I’m with someone else. What happened between us was just a fling.”
The tears streamed down my face harder. No, he had to be joking. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. “Why are you saying things like this all of a sudden?” My voice cracked, barely audible.
“Look, Isabella,” he replied coldly, “we both enjoyed it, and that’s all it was, Amaya is in the bedroom, I wouldn't want her to overhear this conversation. So I'll say it now, please don’t call my number anymore. Goodbye.”
And just like that, he hung up.
I collapsed onto the bed, curling into myself, arms wrapped tightly around my body as if I could hold the pieces together. I couldn’t believe Cullen would do this to me. Just this morning, my entire world had come crashing down.
So he really did play me. No wonder he got so furious when I refused him sex that night and stormed off, pulling away from me like I was nothing. And like the fool I was, desperate for his love, I handed myself to him on a silver platter.
I felt so used, so dirty, I could have died right there. I couldn’t even speak my pain out loud—our “relationship” was a secret no one knew about, so I had to cry in silence. My whole body trembled. I had loved him so deeply… how could he do this to me?
A sudden ding from my phone snapped me out of it. I picked it up with shaking hands and saw another message in the group chat:
“While you guys are out here playing love, one side piece is somewhere wailing”
Instantly, the screen filled with laughing emojis. Someone else chimed in: “I wonder who it is”
The humiliation burned through me like acid. I dropped the phone again and clutched my head in both hands. I wanted to scream until my skull split open, but if I did, they might hear me. So I swallowed it down, choking on the sound.
It can’t be real. How many people on campus already know that Cullen and I slept together? What’s going to happen when I go back there? Will I become the laughingstock of the entire school?
I’m ruined. Completely ruined. If my mother ever finds out… or my dad… they’ll be so disappointed in me. What have I done?
Max
I scrolled through the school group chat, and there they were—throwing insults at some “side piece” just because that asshole Cullen had moved on to another girl. And not just any girl—the notorious slut Amaya, the one who’d spread her legs for any guy who whispered she was pretty.
Their photo together was honestly the dumbest thing I’d ever seen. Who the hell posts a full-on kissing picture in a school group chat? Like, grow up.
I threw my phone in the bed in disgust and stared up at the ceiling, chest tight. My parents’ marriage was falling apart, and all I could think was: how do we fix this? How do we make everything go back to the way it used to be?
I hated everything I was seeing. Seeing Mom like this, broken, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t—that wasn’t the mom I grew up with. And deep down, I knew with every fiber of my being that whatever crisis they were going through was one hundred percent Dad’s fault.
I needed to know exactly what he did. The not knowing was eating me alive from the inside, maybe when we get back I'll pressure him into telling me what went wrong between the both of them, because I want the life we once lived back.