Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ROSE
Idon’t even realise how tightly I’ve been gripping my phone until my fingers start to ache.
The notifications haven’t stopped all morning, buzz after buzz, each one another reminder that Talia has escalated again.
Not vague digs. Not passive-aggressive captions.
This time she’s making it personal. As I scroll through the post, my stomach lurches and then settles into the biggest, ugliest knot.
She’s posted a carousel of photos of her and Callum from when they were together. There are pictures of them laughing and kissing, wrapped around each other like they were some great love story instead of the disaster he described. And the caption isn’t even subtle. It’s targeted and threatening.
Some people forget where they came from the minute someone new bats their lashes. Good luck keeping what isn’t yours, sweetheart.
The comments are worse. Hundreds of strangers deciding I’m a homewrecker, a rebound, a nobody.
People screenshotting my private account and speculating about me as if I’m a character in a soap opera instead of an actual person who very much does not belong in this world of professional athletes and their messy exes.
I silently berate myself for not locking down my personal profile.
My photography one has to be public, because that’s the one I hope to start gaining work through eventually.
My stomach twists as I shove my phone back into my bag. The uni building empties around me, students heading home or to the library, all blissfully unaware of the fact that my entire morning has been me trying not to cry in lecture halls.
Except they’re not unaware.
I’ve felt the whispers trailing behind me all day; the not-so-subtle glances, the girls nudging each other when I walked past, the guys pretending not to laugh as they scrolled through their phones.
A few even had the nerve to point, like I’m some zoo exhibit instead of a person just trying to make it through her morning seminar without falling apart.
Every snicker, every sideways look burrows under my skin.
Tiny reminders that Talia’s posts aren’t just living online, they’re bleeding into my real life, staining everything I thought was safe.
So, when Callum’s car pulls up at the curb, the tiny jump in my chest is immediate and embarrassing. He steps out, wearing joggers and a hoodie and a smile that’s so warm I forget the rest of the world exists for a second.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, like my heart hasn’t been in my throat all morning. He kisses me, soft at first, then a little firmer when I melt into him. “Ready to go see the flat?”
I nod, though nerves flutter under my ribs. “Yeah. I’m excited.”
He opens the passenger door for me, and when I slide in, he squeezes my knee before circling around to his side. The simple gesture steadies something in me. But he notices immediately that something’s off.
“Rose?” His smile fades. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard, fingers tightening on the strap of my bag. “Nothing. Well… not nothing.”
“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “Please.”
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. But heat creeps up my throat anyway.
“It’s just…” I glance past him toward the steps of the building where a couple of girls from my seminar are still lingering. When they spot Callum, their eyes widen, and one of them whispers behind her hand. Both of them laugh and my stomach drops.
He follows my gaze, jaw tightening. “They saying something?”
I pull in a shaky breath. “It’s been all day. People whispering, staring, talking about me. Because of Talia’s posts. Because of you and me.”
His whole posture changes. Shoulders tense, eyes darkening into something protective and lethal. Fury aimed at anyone who dared make me feel small. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks tenderly, but with steel threaded through it.
“Because it’s stupid,” I whisper. “It’s just comments. Sniggering. People joking that I’m trying to upgrade my life by dating you. Some saying I’m delusional. Or a homewrecker. Or that you’ll get bored and drop me—”
“Stop.” His voice cuts through the air, low and commanding. “Don’t repeat any of that. Not to me. Not even in your own head.”
I blink fast, trying to keep my eyes dry.
He tilts my chin up with two fingers. “Look at me.”
I do. God help me, I do.
“If anyone here made you feel like you don’t deserve to be with me, they’re wrong,” he says, slow and deliberate. “I’m the lucky one. I am. Not you. Me.”
My breath shivers out of me.
He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “You never have to hide this stuff from me. If people are giving you shit, I want to know.”
“Because you want to fix it?” I ask quietly.
“Because I want to take care of you,” he answers without hesitation. “And because you’re mine, Rose.”
The word hits me low and sharp and warm all at once.
He leans over and kisses my forehead. “We’ll go look at the flat. Then food. And after that? I’ll make you forget what anyone said today.”
A shaky laugh escapes me. “You think you can?”
He smirks, devastatingly sure. “I know I can.”
He starts driving, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to lace his fingers with mine.
“PR are sorting everything,” he says gently. “I checked in with them again. They’re already on it.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s just the amount of people she reaches. I didn’t realise it would be like this. I don’t want to be the reason things get harder for you.”
“Rose.” His voice is gentle but firm. “You’re not the problem. You’re the best part.”
Heat rushes up my neck, and I look out the window. Wanting him is one thing. Belonging in his world is something else entirely. Someone like Talia can bend thousands of people with one post. I’m not built for this.
We pull up outside a modern building with huge windows and leafy balconies. Callum jumps out with almost boyish enthusiasm.
“This is the one I really want to show you,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Tell me what you think. Be brutally honest.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Lead the way.”
The estate agent meets us upstairs, and as soon as we step inside the flat, I see why Callum loves it. It’s bright and spacious, a place with softness built into the walls. A place someone chooses on purpose, not one they end up in because they’re running from the wreckage of what came before.
Callum wanders with a grin, pointing out the breakfast bar, “I could actually cook here” and then the wide hallway, “room for gear storage, see?” He’s animated and adorable, brushing my hip each time we pass, leaning into my space as though he can’t help touching me.
“It’s perfect,” I admit when we pause in the living room, alone while the estate agent checks something in the kitchen. “It feels like a fresh start.”
“That’s what I want.” He steps closer. “A place that feels like me. Not what came before.”
My chest tightens. He said it’s for him, but a part of me wonders if there’s space for me in that future. Whether I’m here because he needs someone beside him today, or because he imagines me here long-term.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
I shake my head. “Nothing important.”
He studies me, as if he knows there’s more, but doesn’t push. Instead, he lifts my chin and kisses me. A kiss that says he wants me here. Wants me, full stop.
But want and longevity aren’t the same.
The agent returns, and we finish the walk-through. Callum asks thoughtful questions while I try not to spiral. He thanks the agent, tells him he’ll be in touch, and takes my hand as we head back to the car.
“So?” he asks, sliding into the driver’s seat, eyes on me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “I think you’d be happy there.”
His smile softens. “That matters to me.”
I look at our joined hands. “I’m glad you’re doing something that feels right for you.”
“I am,” he says, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles. “And I want you with me for all of it.”
Hope blooms so abruptly it almost hurts.
Then my phone buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
Three times before I even pull it free.
Callum’s expression darkens. “Don’t look.”
“I should,” I whisper.
“No. You shouldn’t have to.”
But letting fear fester feels worse. I unlock my phone. Talia’s newest story is a selfie of her crying dramatically, mascara smudged, captioned:
Imagine building a life with someone only to watch him throw it away for a girl who doesn’t understand him the way you do.
It’s manipulative. Absurd. And yet something cold slides down my spine.
Callum sees my face instantly. “Rose,”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
He turns my chin toward him. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I’m here.”
His voice is steady, grounding, and for a moment it anchors me. But the doubts still claw. How long until the internet decides I’m not enough? How long until the noise wears him down? Until someone like Talia convinces the world he made a mistake?
I tuck my phone away and lean into him. He pulls me across the console until I’m practically in his lap, arms banded around me, lips pressed to my hairline. “I choose you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Every day, Rose. No matter what she posts. No matter what anyone says.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to believe him. God, I want to. But sometimes love feels fragile in the face of a world determined to shatter it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive breaking.