24. Lauren
Lauren
S ilas doesn't let go of my hand as we walk into the grand hall, where the party is already in full swing. The music—some kind of disco beat—is a little overwhelming, but I remind myself of what my therapist always says: focus on the small things. Staying calm, not letting myself get flustered, is key in moments like this.
Everyone seems fixated on greeting Silas—or, as he calls it, kissing his ass —so no one really notices our joined hands. Or if they do, they’re doing a damn good job pretending they don’t. Silas takes every opportunity to introduce me to people I’ve never even seen at the office, but he lingers when speaking with the investors—the ones responsible for putting his big project on hold.
Watching him work is mesmerizing. He’s so passionate and commanding, clearly in his element. The two men in front of us hang onto every word, the same way I do. I wonder if they feel the same admiration I do. Then again, I’m in love with him, so maybe I’m seeing everything through a lens that magnifies his every move.
My mind drifts back to the conversation we had in Central Park earlier today—Silas Walker, the guy who made high school a nightmare, confessing his feelings all this years later. It’s still hard to wrap my head around.
A tap on my shoulder snaps me back to reality. Both Silas and I turn to see Dulce, who looks nervous, shifting from foot to foot.
“Lauren, could you take a look at something? We have a problem.” Her words confuse me, and I glance at Silas, who raises a brow.
“I’ll be right back,” I say with a polite smile to the investors, who nod while Silas watches me closely as I follow Dulce away from the conversation.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“First of all, that dress looks amazing on you—everyone’s been talking about it,” Dulce says, smiling.
I blink, thrown off by the compliment. If there's a problem, why is she focusing on my outfit? “Thanks, Dulce, but what’s the issue?”
“Oh, there’s no problem!” she says brightly. “I just wanted to rescue you from that conversation. We all know how demanding Mr. Walker can be.” She rolls her eyes dramatically as she steers me toward a group of coworkers lounging on some couches.
“Look who I saved!” she announces.
“Lauren!” a few of them shout, louder than necessary. I smile, a bit overwhelmed but polite as ever.
“Hi, everyone!” I say, still processing how I went from intense business talks with Silas to casual small talk in the blink of an eye.
The group shifts to make space for me on the crowded couch, but I almost have to squeeze myself into the middle. I smile, trying to blend in, mirroring their casual ease. Copy and paste, I think to myself, willing my discomfort to fade.
“Lauren, that dress …” says a woman I don’t recognize, her eyes running over the black fabric hugging me a little tighter than I’d like. “Which designer is it?”
I glance down at the dress, feeling the texture of the fabric under my fingers.
“Goodwill,” I whisper, and suddenly, everyone bursts into laughter, the sound bouncing around the room.
I blink, unsure why they’re laughing so hard. I force a smile, but I’m already scanning the crowd, looking for Silas. I half-expect him to stride over with that familiar stern look, maybe even rescue me with some excuse about needing his assistant for something. But he doesn’t. Instead, I see waiters weaving through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne in preparation for the midnight toast. I check my watch—fifteen minutes to go.
“You really are funny,” Daniel says, leaning in with a smirk. “Stella, that witch, never shared a moment with us.”
“Yeah, she thought that because she was sleeping with the boss she was above us,” Dulce adds with a bitter slur.
Sleeping? No, I must have misheard. My mind races, trying to catch up with the conversation.
“Well, it worked out pretty well for her! She got herself pregnant and now she’s on permanent PTO!” Dulce’s words come out jagged, half swallowed by drunken laughter as the group erupts into more amusement.
What? I freeze, my stomach twisting violently.
“But Stella …” I whisper, choking on my own words as the image of her—so confident, always complaining about her partner—collides with this version of the story.
“She never told you?” the same woman from earlier chimes in, her voice thick with the kind of satisfaction that comes from spilling something venomous. “Mr. Walker got her pregnant. He insisted she get an abortion, but she refused. ”
No. That can’t be true. My chest tightens as the room begins to spin.
“Yeah,” Daniel adds, oblivious to my growing horror. “But it looks like they worked out some kind of arrangement. They hired you, and now she’s living it up, posting poolside pics every day.”
“Did you see that post?” Dulce says, her voice dripping with malice. “I bet he sent her away just so he wouldn’t have to watch her belly grow every day.”
More laughter. Cruel, sharp, unrelenting.
Are they talking about Silas ? My Silas? The man who held me just hours ago, made me feel like the center of his universe? My body jolts upright, but it feels like the ground is crumbling beneath me. The panic inside me starts bubbling, threatening to spill over. I need to leave. Now. My heart pounds in my chest, and the blood roars in my ears, drowning out the noise around me. My legs tremble as I force myself up, pushing past the waves of nausea that grip my stomach. I have to disappear before this panic consumes me whole.
“Hey, Lauren!” Daniel’s voice follows me, but it sounds so far away. “Come grab your champagne! It’s almost midnight!”
I don’t stop. My feet move faster, weaving through the crowd as if they were a sea of bodies I needed to escape from. Every laugh, every whisper feels like a knife. I push past them all, stumbling toward the women’s restroom and slamming the door behind me, locking myself inside. The air is gone.
There’s no more oxygen in this place.
Two women, reapplying their makeup, glance at me through the mirror with concern. I ignore their stares as I move to the sink, splashing cold water onto my face, trying to hide the tears, trying to breathe.
“Ten!” the countdown begins outside. The new year is seconds away.
The girls rush out, giggling, eager to celebrate. That was me half an hour ago—excited, oblivious.
“Nine!”
I pace back and forth, my dress suffocating me, clinging to my skin like a punishment. I want to rip it off, tear it apart, but I force myself to stay calm.
“Eight!”
“Lauren?” His voice cuts through the panic, and I freeze mid-step. Silas.
The door handle turns, and the breath I’ve been holding spills out in a jagged gasp. I slam the door shut before he can open it.
“Six!”
“Lauren! What’s going on?” Silas’s voice is closer now, tense with confusion, but I can’t deal with him. Not now. Not after what I just heard.
“Go away!” I shout, pressing my back against the door, desperate to keep him out.
“I’m coming in.” His voice is steady, but there’s an edge of frustration. “Either you move away from the door or be prepared to get a bump on your forehead.”
“Five!”
The door bursts open, and I stumble backward, but before I can fall, Silas grabs my arm, steadying me, pulling me against him. His eyes search mine, filled with concern, but all I can see is her. All I can hear are their words— pregnant, arrangement, sent her away.
“What the hell is going on?! Why are you crying?” Silas’s voice cuts through the chaos, his face contorted with confusion.
“ Three! ”
“How could you do this?” I sob, rubbing my chest as if that might somehow ease the pain, trying to force air into my lungs. Silas’s expression shifts, his anguish unmistakable. That look alone confirms what I’ve been dreading.
It’s true.
“One!”
“Lauren ...” He steps closer, reaching for me, desperation in his eyes. “Use more words. I don’t understand.”
I shake my head frantically. I can’t speak. The words won’t come. The muteness consumes me.
“Happy New Year!” The celebrations outside are deafening, horns blaring, people clinking glasses, completely unaware of the storm inside this bathroom.
“ Leave! ” I choke out through the tears pouring down my face, soaking my chest. There’s no end to them.
“No, not until we talk this out, Bunny?—”
“ Don’t call me that! ” I scream, the sound ripping from me with such force it shakes me to my core.
My hand slaps against my head, over and over, as if I can physically beat the confusion and betrayal out of myself. I’ve lost control, and I know it, but I can’t stop.
I can’t.
Silas moves fast, grabbing my wrist to stop me from hurting myself. “Okay, okay,” he whispers, his voice tender but filled with panic. “Please don’t hurt yourself. Come on, let me take you home.”
“ No! ” I scream again, my composure completely shattered. He’s not listening, not hearing me. “I want to go alone! Let me through! ”
“How do I know you won’t hurt yourself when you’re alone?” His voice wavers, but I don’t care anymore.
“I won’t, ” I spit through clenched teeth, the fury burning in my chest. I just need to get away. Away from him, away from this moment.
Finally, reluctantly, Silas steps aside, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and helplessness. I walk past him cautiously, like a cornered animal ready to lash out. Every step feels like it’s on the edge of something dangerous.
I don’t recognize him anymore. This is the same man I once got lost in, the one who made my heart race, whose blue eyes once captivated me. But now? Now, he’s a stranger. Cold. Calculated.
The villain.
Not just in my story, but in others too.