31
Hazel
I woke up feeling weightless. For the first time in forever, the crushing weight of self-doubt and overthinking wasn’t the first thing to greet me when my eyes fluttered open. Instead, warmth still lingered on the sheets beside me, the faintest trace of him . All the memories from last night came rushing back - his gentle touch making me feel fragile and cherished, his kisses soothing my unspoken fears and transforming them into beauty. I believed I was enough.
I turned onto my side, already smiling, ready to see his face, his mess of dark hair against my pillow. But the bed was empty. My smile faltered. My fingers curled around the sheets, still warm, but fading. I sat up, my pulse kicking up a notch as my gaze darted around the room. His clothes were gone. His shoes. No note. No text. Nothing. Just gone . The air thinned, my chest tightening. No. No, this wasn’t happening.
I threw the blankets off and stood; my legs unsteady beneath me. My hands gripped my arms, trying to stop the trembling, but it was no use. The cracks splintered through my ribs, spreading fast, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He left . I choked on the thought, my throat burning. I was so stupid. So. Stupid. I let myself believe in something good, let myself think—for even a second—that I meant something to him. That I wasn’t just another girl, another mistake, another thing he could leave behind. But that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A mistake .
My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my skin, but it wasn’t enough to stop the wave of disgust that crashed over me. How could I have been so na?ve? I walked to the mirror before I could stop myself; before I could talk myself down from the self-destruction clawing its way up my throat. My reflection stared back, every flaw magnified under the morning light. No wonder he left . I touched my stomach, the soft curve of it. Pulled at my sweater, feeling too much . Too round. Too plain. Too Hazel.
He could have anyone. Anyone. And I thought, for a second, that he’d wanted me ? A sob threatened to escape, but I shoved it down, biting hard on my lip. I wouldn’t cry. Not over him. Not over this. I turned away from the mirror, my body shaking as I reached for my phone. Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe there was a text waiting for me, an explanation—something to tell me this wasn’t what it felt like. But the second I unlocked my screen, my stomach dropped. Dozens of missed messages. Group chats blowing up . And at the top of it all, one notification made my blood run cold.
Unknown Number: Thought you’d want to see this. ;)
I swallowed hard and clicked the link attached. The second my eyes landed on the page, my body locked up. My book. The one I’d written before I ever met Campbell. The one I told no one about. And now it was everywhere. Screenshots. Quotes. Passages shared in tweets and group chats. And the worst part? They knew it was about him. The messages poured in, all of them laced with mockery.
-This is SO embarrassing. - Did she write an entire love story about him? BEFORE THEY EVEN MET? Stalker behavior. - Omg does Campbell know???
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe . It wasn’t just that people were reading my words. Everyone now knew my secret, the one thing I kept to myself. And Campbell had seen it, too. And now I understood. I understood why he left. He found out the truth—the humiliating, pathetic truth. I romanticized him long before knowing him. And now? I was a laughingstock.
**
My heart was still pounding when I stormed into my dorm. The humiliation was still fresh, burning through my veins like wildfire, my pulse hammering in my ears. Maisie sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone clutched in her hands. But the second she saw me, her expression crumbled.
“Oh, fuck.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Hazel—”
I barely heard her. The weight of the morning, the betrayal, the humiliation, the exposure , was still pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe. Maisie shot up, hands lifted in surrender. Pleading.
“I swear I didn’t know. I just saw it—Shit, I just saw it, Hazel. I am so sorry.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My fingers clenched around the strap of my bag, gripping it so tightly my knuckles ached. I tried to process her words, the genuine remorse in her voice, but all I could hear was the laughter still ringing in my head. The whispers. The messages. Stalker behavior. So embarrassing. It felt like my ribs were caving in.
“You—” My breath hitched. I forced the words out. “You sent it?”
Maisie’s eyes widened, horror flashing across her face.
“No! No! Shit, Hazel, I would never —” Her voice cracked as she raked a trembling hand through her curls, her features twisting with guilt. “But I think I know who did.” The surrounding air turned razor sharp, slicing into my skin before she said it. “Nevaeh.”
Something inside me snapped. I sucked in a sharp breath, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“What?”
Fearful, Maisie avoided my gaze.
“I—I let her in earlier. She said she needed to grab something.” A swallow, her throat bobbing. “I was running late for class, so I just gave her my key and told her to lock up after.”
The world tilted. Nevaeh. Of course, it was her. She had always known how to dismantle me piece by piece, to find the deepest, most vulnerable parts of me and carve them open. She did it with a smile. This was war. I forced in a slow, uneven breath, my whole body tight with the effort of keeping still, of not letting the fury bubbling up inside me consume me. Maisie’s voice was quiet, hesitant.
“Hazel, I am so—”
“It’s not your fault.”
She blinked.
“But—”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t know. And Nevaeh? She would’ve found another way. She always does.”
Maisie’s expression flickered between relief and guilt, but I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. I understood my course of action. For years, I let Nevaeh make me feel small . I let her whispers creep under my skin, let her have power over me. Not anymore. I turned for the door. Maisie’s voice followed me.
“Where are you going?”
I didn’t stop or hesitate. I just threw the door open, my blood simmering, my hands clenched tight, and said,
“To handle it.”
**
The campus cafe hummed with life, a low symphony of clinking mugs, distant laughter, and the steady buzz of conversation. But all of it dulled to white noise the second I spotted her. Nevaeh. Bathed in soft, golden light, she sat at the center, basking in attention like she was born to wear it. A small circle of admirers leaned in close, hanging onto her every word, their laughter ringing at something she’d said. She was effortless—radiant—her golden hair catching the glow of the overhead bulbs, her posture casual. Like she hadn’t just gutted me in front of the entire school. Like she hadn’t destroyed me. My hands curled into fists. For years, I had let Nevaeh have this power over me. I had stood in her shadow, swallowing my pride. I let her win . Not anymore. I cut across the room, my pulse hammering, my breath steady. Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk when she spotted me.
“Oh, Hazel,” she purred, tilting her head with mock sympathy. “I was wondering how long it would take you to crawl out of whatever hole you were hiding in.”
Laughter rippled through her audience. A few turned to look at me, their smiles expectant, waiting to see what she would say next—what I would do next. I barely heard them. A serene calmness emanated from my voice. Too calm.
“You had no right.”
Nevaeh arched a sculpted brow, feigning innocence.
“No right to what ?”
I took another step, closing the space between us. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my ribs, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t waver.
“You know.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickered in her gaze. Then she laughed—a slow, cruel sound.
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to share something so inspiring .”
Venom laced her words. The crowd laughed again. But I didn’t. Heat licked my spine, anger curling around my ribs, but I forced myself to stay steady. To hold my ground. I took one last step, leaning in just enough that my voice was for her and her alone.
“I’m done with you, Nevaeh.”
She blinked. For the first time, her smirk faltered.
“I’m done letting you walk all over me,” I continued, my voice sharp as glass. “Done pretending like I don’t notice how you tear me down just to feel better about yourself. Done being afraid of you.”
A muscle in her jaw twitched. She caught herself, covering the crack in her mask with an exaggerated laugh, glancing at her audience like this was all some elaborate joke.
“Wow,” she mused, voice light but eyes cold. “Someone grew a backbone. Good for you , Hazel. Too bad it took you this long.”
The air between us thickened, a slow, suffocating weight pressing against my chest. I leaned in a fraction more, dropping my voice to something lethal.
“You wanted to humiliate me? Congratulations. You made sure everyone saw that book. You made sure everyone knew my secrets.” My throat tightened, but I kept my voice steady, my gaze locked onto hers. “But here’s the thing, Nevaeh—you can’t break me anymore. You don’t scare me.” Her smirk slipped. Her fingers curled against the table, her nails pressing into the polished wood. I tilted my head, mirroring her signature move. “You’ve spent your whole life making me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And for what? Because you were afraid I’d steal your spotlight? Because you needed someone to feel smaller than you?” My voice dropped even lower, slicing like a blade. “I feel sorry for you.”
She stiffened. There it was. The tiniest crack. Barely visible, but I saw it. And then I twisted the knife.
“You used to be my best friend,” I whispered. “But now? You’re just pathetic .”
Silence. It stretched, suffocating the space between us, swallowing the whispers, the stolen glances, and the wide-eyed stares of her audience. Nevaeh’s nails curled harder against the table, like she was trying to hold on to something—control, composure, power . But she had already lost. I straightened, taking a step back. I didn’t need an audience. Or an apology. I just needed to walk away. So, I did. And for the first time in my life, I felt free. Now I needed to confront my final issue.