Chapter 14- Oliver
I text Josh first.
He has no idea what’s going on — just a simple “Meet me at the park.”
Then I text Ellie.
Same place. Same time.
My hands shake as I hit send. If I’m going to fix this, it has to be face to face. No more silence. No more guessing. No more letting someone else speak for me.
The park looks different tonight.
Colder.
Quieter.
The air itself knows something’s about to break.
The park looks different tonight.
Colder.
Quieter.
Like the air itself knows something’s about to break.
The sky is a deep blue fading into black, the streetlights flickering on one by one. The wind carries that early-night chill — the kind that settles into your bones if you stand still too long. I shove my hands into my pockets, pacing near the bench where Ellie and I always sit.
I see her first.
She’s standing near the path, hands tucked into her sleeves, shoulders slightly hunched like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Her eyes dart toward me, then away, like she’s scared of what she’ll see if she looks too long.
My chest tightens.
Then Josh shows up, smiling like nothing’s wrong. Like he didn’t just tear my world apart with a few careless words.
That smile makes my blood boil.
“Hey, man,” he says, walking up. “What’s up?”
I don’t answer right away. I can feel Ellie watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. Waiting to see who I am when I’m hurt.
I’ve never raised my voice in front of her before.
But tonight, I can’t hold it in.
“You told Ellie I was talking to Francesca behind her back,” I say, my voice sharp. “Why would you do that?”
Josh blinks, confused. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t,”
I cut him off. “Don’t say you didn’t mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. She’s never seen me like this — angry, shaking, barely keeping it together. I hate that she has to see this side of me, but I can’t stop. Not now.
Josh takes a step back. “I thought she deserved to know—”
“She deserved the truth,” I snap. “Not your twisted version of it.”
He opens his mouth, but I keep going, the words spilling out faster than I can control them.
“You knew how much I love her. You knew what she means to me. And you still decided to get in between us.”
My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “That’s not what a good friend does. That’s not what a brother does.”
Josh looks down, guilt flickering across his face. “I didn’t think it would go this far.”
“It did,” I say quietly, the anger settling into something heavier. “And I’m never going to forgive you for it.”
He starts to say something else, but I step forward — too close, too angry. For a second, I actually feel the urge to hit him. My hands curl into fists before I catch myself.
Ellie gasps softly behind me.
I force myself to breathe.
“Leave,” I say, my voice low and shaking. “Before I put a hand on you.”
Josh hesitates, then nods slowly, eyes darting between me and Ellie “I’m sorry,” he mutters, backing away.
I don’t watch him go.
I can’t.
The moment he’s gone, the silence drops heavy between us. The kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath.
Ellie steps closer, her voice soft. “Oliver…”
I turn to her, and the look on her face nearly breaks me. She’s crying — not loud, not messy, just quiet tears that make my chest ache.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve trusted you.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
But it’s not.
Not really.
I can tell she feels awful, and I want to tell her it’s fine, that I understand, that I’d forgive her a thousand times over. But I’m still angry. Not at her — never at her — but at the fact that someone I called my brother could do something like that.
Ellie reaches for my hand, and I let her.
Her fingers are cold, trembling.
I squeeze them gently.
“I just want us to be okay,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, because I want that too.
More than anything.
But as we stand there under the streetlights, I know it’s going to take time — time to heal, time to trust again, time to stop seeing Josh’s face every time I think about betrayal.
Ellie steps closer, resting her forehead lightly against my chest. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her in, breathing in the soft scent of her shampoo. For a moment, the world feels still. Quiet. Almost safe.
“I love you,” she murmurs, voice trembling.
My throat tightens. “I love you too.”
We stay like that for a long moment — two people trying to hold onto something fragile, something worth fighting for.
Eventually, she pulls back, wiping her cheeks. “I should go. Dad’s waiting.”
I nod, even though I don’t want her to leave. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
She gives me one last look — soft, hopeful, scared — then walks away, her steps slow, like she’s not ready to let go either.
I watch her until she disappears around the corner.
After Ellie leaves, the park feels too big. Too empty. The kind of quiet that makes every thought louder.
I sit on the bench where she stood just minutes ago, the wood still faintly warm from where she’d been. My hands are still shaking — from the fight I almost started, from the truth finally out, from the way she looked at me when she apologized.
I tilt my head back and stare at the sky, breathing in the cold night air. The stars blur slightly, not from tears, but from exhaustion — the kind that settles deep, the kind that feels like it’s been building for years.
I should feel relieved.
I should feel lighter.
I should feel like I won.
But all I feel is tired — tired and bruised in a way that isn’t physical.
Josh’s betrayal still stings.
Ellie’s tears are burned into my memory.
And the anger in my chest hasn’t fully settled.
But she held my hand.
She chose to believe me.
She chose us .
And maybe that’s enough for tonight.
Maybe that’s enough to keep me going.
I close my eyes, letting the cold air sting my cheeks, and whisper to myself:
“Don’t lose her. Not again.”