“It was you,” I say, my voice hollow. “The anonymous texts. All of them. It’s you.”
“Honey, please, just let me explain—
“Explain what?” I scroll further, my stomach churning. “That you downloaded an app specifically to harass me? That you lied when you said you didn’t know who Zach was? Who I was?”
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” Her voice cracks, and she drops her arms. “I just—I saw you together at that first game last year, and you looked so miserable, and he looked so stressed trying to hold you up while managing everything else.”
“So you decided to torture me?”
“I decided to help you both.” She’s crying now, taking deep breaths. “You’re not built for his life, Honey. The scrutiny, the pressure, the spotlight—it’s eating you alive. I thought if you realized it yourself, if you saw that you were holding him back, and maybe met someone better suited for you.”
Chris.
That’s why she introduced him to me.
“I thought you’d leave before he had to chose between you and his future.”
“And then what? You’d be there to catch him?”
Her face crumples, and she doesn’t deny it. “I understand his world. I can handle what’s coming. I wouldn’t fall apart at games or need the constant reassurance or—” She stops herself. “I care about him, Honey. I actually care about what's best for him, not just what makes me feel better.”
The words feel like a stab in my stomach, because there’s a part of me that agrees with her.
I’m not strong enough. I know that.
“Stay away from him.” My voice is cold now, detached. “Stay away from me. Delete the app. Delete my number, or I swear I will show everyone exactly what you've been doing.”
“No one will believe you—”
“Maybe not everyone,” I say quietly, backing toward the door. “But Zach will, and that's all that matters.”
I walk out before she can respond, letting the door slam shut behind me. I make it maybe five steps down the hallway before my knees buckle. I slide down against the wall until I'm sitting on the cold tile, staring at nothing.
Every anonymous text I received came from her. Every moment I felt watched or hunted or like I was losing my grip on reality—she orchestrated all of it. She used everything I told her in confidence, and weaponized it.
All the while she pretended to be my friend.
I can’t believe I actually thought she cared about me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out with trembling hands.
Father: Happy birthday, Hunniford. Still expecting you here 9am sharp. We need to discuss your future at the firm.
Right. The office. I need to be there.
I force myself to stand, smoothing down my blazer even though my hands won't stop shaking. One foot in front of the other. That's all I can manage right now. Just keep moving forward even though I don't know who I am anymore, even though everyone I trusted has either betrayed me or I've pushed away. Just keep moving before there's nothing left of me to save.
I stare at my phone screen, glaring at the three messages sitting there unanswered and unread. Nothing.
Zach:Happy Birthday, Honeycomb.
Zach:I love you. I don't care if you never want to marry me. I just want you.
Zach:I love you more than anything.
I want to type something else out to her, but what else is there to say? I’ve told her everything. I’ve laid out my heart in front of her, and she still said she needed time.
Pocketing my phone, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter and head to the door. I should be focused on the game tomorrow. It’s the biggest one of my college career. Scouts from six NFL teams have confirmed attendance and I have a good chance of winning.