I swallowed hard, willing it away. Maybe it was just the exhaustion. Maybe I needed water. Maybe I just needed to lie down
Maybe…
I blinked hard, steadying myself against the sink. My reflection in the mirror looked paler than usual, dark smudges under my eyes boldly highlighting the exhaustion refused to acknowledge.
I took a breath that didn’t help, pressing my palm against my forehead as I exited the bathroom.
No, I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t weak. I just needed to pull myself together.
My stomach twisted with an uneasy nausea that hadn’t left ine all day.
I tossed the towel aside and moved toward my bed, but the second I took a step, my vision dipped, and my balance wobbled.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Along with these strange feelings came the hurt. I had cried, but it felt like I hadn’t cried enough. I hated myself for so many reasons. First, for letting myself let Kester fester his way into my heart. And secondly, for punishing. myself by not wanting to see him for two days.
He had come to my door more times than I could count. I had heard the knocks and heard his voice. And I had ignored every single one.
Because maybe if I stayed away and pretended this wasn’t happening, it would all just… stop.
It was stupid.
I couldn’t love Kester.
I can’t… I shouldn’t
And I won’t.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, a shuddering breath slipping past my lips. I clenched my jaw, forcing back the sting of tears. I had cried enough. It wouldn’t change anything
Because for the first time in a long time, I realized something I hadn’t wanted to admit.
I had fallen for Kester.
And now, there was nothing I could do but watch as he slipped away.
This was wrong. I knew it.
So why did it still hurt?
I sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing my fingers against my temples as if I could knead the ache away. It was useless. Just like trying to push away the thoughts that had been eating at me for days.
Five more days. That was all that was left before Kester became someone else’s.
Five days from now, he would put a ring on her finger, and whatever this thing between us was whatever it could have been-would be buried beneath duty and expectation.
My stomach clenched. Whether from the nausea or the ugly clawing emotion gripping my chest, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that every time I thought about it about her, about him-it felt like something inside me was caving in
June’s posts had become a torment to me. Pictures of wedding gowns, rings, florists, venues. Perfectly curated glimpses of a future that wasn’t mine to touch. And I had told myself I didn’t care. That I shouldn’t care. But every new post she made, filled with giddy excitement, felt like a knife digging a little deeper.
A small voice in my head kept laughing at me and mocking the because I had been living in self-denial for so long.
But who would blame me?
As it stands now, Jake is the best option I have. He’s the safest option for me. And I love him. I think I do.
Yes. I love Jake.
My hand curled into the sheets. Maybe I should sleep, rest, or do anything other than sitting here, torturing myself with things I had no control over.
But even as I told myself that, I knew sleep wouldn’t come t never had, since I found out about the engagement.
Because for the first time in a long time, I realized something I hadn’t wanted to admit.
I had fallen for Kester.
And now, there was nothing I could do but watch as he slipped away.
A rapid knock jolted me from the light haze of sleep I’d been slipping into.
I groaned and rolled over, pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead. The pounding behind my eyes had only gotten worse like someone was hammering nails through my skull from the inside out.
Who the actual hell?
Another knock-harder and more impatient this time.
If that was Mum coming to talk about Jaden again, I swear, I’d slam the door in her face just like I did the last time. I’d rather let a pack of wolves eat me alive than sit through another minute with that conceited asshole. The audacity he had to ask for a second date after humiliating me on the first. Men like him belonged in a museum of red flags.
I dragged the duvet over my head, barely mustering the strength to raise my voice.
“Who…” I was about to ask but paused abruptly when I heard the voice behind the door.
“I swear to fuck, Kasmine, if you don’t open this door now, I’ll break it down!”
Kester.
He sounded angry.
Well, I’d like to see him try. Because there was no way I’d le… I’d lehin into my room.
“Kasmine?” He called again, quieter this time. That quietess from him that always came before the storm.
My heart skipped. For a second, all I could do was stare at the celling. I wasn’t sure if it was the headache or the nausea that hit me harder… or the pure, sharp ache in my chest that came just from hearing his voice.
Before I’d settle back into the bed, I heard a loud thud on the strong, mahogany door.
What the hell?
Another thud slammed into the door-so loud I nearly fell off the bed.
“What the “I scrambled upright, still half tangled in sheets and my small, casual wear – a gown that barely covered my ass, “Is he serious right now?!”
Thud.
This one made the entire frame tremble.
Panic shot through me like a jolt of electricity. I just recalled now that Mum and Dad weren’t home, and the staff…. they wouldn’t dare interrupt Kester even if he tore the whole damn house down.
Thud
No-Kester!” I yelled, rushing to the door, my bare feet smacking against the floor as dizziness swirled in my vision. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”
I unlocked it and yanked it open, fury hot in my throat. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
But before the words had even finished leaving my mouth, he shoved past me-shoulder brushing mine, hard enough to steal my breath-and slammed the door shut behind him with an echoing click.
Then he locked it.
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