Chapter 33
I made my entire existence revolve around Zane, and now I found myself lost. I was at a loss for what to do with my life.
Just a year ago, I was living in bliss; everything felt effortless and uncomplicated.
Now, I stood outside the school with my mother, who looked at me with disappointment, as if she didn't recognize her own daughter.
Naturally, when I left, the school notified my parents.
At that moment, I wasn't concerned about the repercussions.
All that mattered had been taken from me.
Yes, I realized I might have sounded naive.
I was still young—what could I possibly know about real pain and the challenges of life?
But every journey had to start somewhere, and that was mine.
When we experienced something—whether it was good or bad—we often thought it was the worst or the best thing that could happen. Yet, life had a way of throwing even bigger challenges our way, making us realize that we were wrong about the last situation being the end of the world.
Enzo once told me that as long as I learned from my mistakes, I would be okay; I would navigate this strange world, which could sometimes be harsh and at other times breathtakingly beautiful.
Losing Zane might have seemed trivial compared to the struggles others faced; maybe it didn't mean much to my parents, but at eighteen, it felt monumental to me—more than I could bear. The unfortunate truth was that no one understood that; no one at all.
My mother didn't utter a word; it was evident that I was expected to follow her to the car. The ride home was shrouded in silence, not a single word exchanged, not even after we stepped inside the house.
I retreated to my room, devoid of tears, with no emotions left to express. I stood in the center of my room, contemplating how long it would take for this pain to subside.
If I hadn't left my diary open on August 10th, Zane wouldn't have read it, wouldn't have subconsciously written my name in that classroom, and wouldn't have prompted the principal's call.
I wouldn't have interacted with the Vipers.
None of this would have unfolded. Did we truly have any control over the paths we took, or was everything preordained, leaving us to merely act out a script?
A year ago, my concerns revolved around trivial choices—blue or pink hoodies, pizza or pasta, book or movie. Now…
When my dad returned from work, he sat at the dinner table, consumed by anger. I had no appetite; I couldn't bring myself to eat.
“Finish your dinner,” my mother commanded, her gaze fixed on her plate.
I remained silent and unmoving. “We need to have a serious conversation,” she continued, still avoiding eye contact.
“Firstly, you're grounded until the end of the school year.
No one is allowed at the house, and you're not allowed to see anyone.
I don't want to hear that boy's name ever again…”
I interrupted her, “There's no need for this. He's gone; he moved to London. You don't have to worry anymore. I have no desire to see anyone, anyway.” My parents exchanged glances, and my mother pressed on. It was a mistake.
“In September, you will resume your studies and attend the University of Rome.”
“In September,” I interrupted once more, speaking slowly to ensure she understood, “I will be as far away as possible. I plan to move to London, find a job, and be with Zane.” My voice was calm but resolute.
Her reaction was swift—she stood up, grabbed a plate, and hurled it against the wall, causing me to jump. My dad stared in disbelief, his mouth agape as if he had seen a ghost.
“You will do as I say, young lady,” she said slowly, pointing a finger at me.
“I'm not a child anymore. I'm eighteen and will make my own choices.
You can't dictate my life,” I replied, maintaining my composed demeanor.
Her eyes widened in shock, and I could see the blue vein in her forehead pulsating.
Without another word, she stormed upstairs, slamming the door behind her.
My dad remained in a state of shock, unable to process what had just occurred.
Suddenly, my appetite returned. I ate as if it were a normal day, savoring each bite while my dad watched me, frozen in disbelief. Once I finished, I washed my plate like I always did and made my way to my room, leaving my dad to grapple with the emotional chaos that lingered in the room.
This moment was crucial, a simple phrase I uttered that would come to life. Did I consciously select this path, or was it the only option available to me?
I chose to be the ideal child from that moment on.
I diligently completed my homework and spent countless hours studying even subjects that weren't required.
My room was spotless every day. After school, I went straight home, and on the days I worked at the coffee shop, my parents would always pick me up.
It had only been five days, but the constant arguing gradually ceased. I gave them no reason to fight. All I needed to do was wait for the school year to end. They weren't interested in understanding me; they simply wanted to dictate my actions.
I preferred solitude, often eating my lunch in the classroom. Gossip still swirled around, and I knew they were likely talking about Zane’s departure.
“Hey,” Emily said as she entered the classroom. “Back here again?” She approached me. I hadn't spoken to her since the party, and I had figured she'd echo Marco’s sentiments, warning me that Zane was trouble. “Are you going to ignore me forever?” she pressed as she took a seat beside me.
“I have nothing to say,” I replied, avoiding her gaze.
“I've got some juicy gossip you might be interested in,” Emily said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
“I know you're not talking to Zane, but I heard the guy he beat didn't file charges. Apparently, Zane’s dad paid the guy off for the 'trouble,'” she whispered, her smile suggesting this news was meant to lift my spirits.
I remained silent. “I'm positive you two can sort things out.
I saw you at the party—the way he looked at you was like he'd catch a bullet or something for you,” she added, placing her hand over mine in an attempt to comfort me.
“It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care,” I said, brushing her off.
“You're just fooling yourself. Just talk to him. I'm sure…”
“Talk? What would I say over the phone?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. “He's in another country. What's the point?” I added, not wanting to continue this discussion.
“What are you talking about?” Emily asked, clearly confused.
“His dad sent him away to stay with his mom. I thought everyone knew that by now,” I explained, trying to keep my composure.
“No,” Emily countered.
“What do you mean, no? That's the truth,” I replied, bewildered.
“No, you're mistaken. He's here at school. I just saw him,” she insisted.
Silence enveloped us, punctuated only by my heart thundering in my chest. I felt chained in place, as if my entire body was immobilized. Was this a nightmare, and I had just woken up?
“That can't be true. I watched him leave. We said our goodbyes. I saw the car driving away,” I whispered, my voice trembling in disbelief.
“Luna, I'm not imagining things. He's been here every day; I just didn't see him at the start of the week,” Emily replied, her eyes wide with disbelief.
My instinct was my guide. Without a second thought, I sprinted through the hallways, taking two or three steps at a time.
I found myself in a crowded area, scanning desperately for him.
I gasped. There he was, surrounded by the Vipers, laughing as if nothing had changed, as if it were just another ordinary day.
I envisioned countless ways to approach him—running to him and kissing him, confronting him with anger, or causing a scene demanding to know why he hadn't told me he was still here.
But I did none of those things.
Zane turned his head in my direction, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. Yet, I felt nothing—just an empty shell where the person I knew used to be. His defenses were up once again. Maybe I had misinterpreted everything. Perhaps it wasn't love but just an obsession?
I walked away, not because I was afraid to face him, but because I simply didn't have the strength. Any attempt to speak would have turned into tears, leaving me speechless with a lump in my throat.
I came to realize that I possessed a sense of pride. If he didn't want me, I wasn't about to humiliate myself by throwing myself at him only to face rejection. It was all a facade, a way to mask my true emotions. I was unsure of how to act.
It had been two weeks—just two uneventful weeks.
We had been avoiding each other, pretending the other didn't exist. I maintained an air of indifference around him, but inside I was struggling.
I found myself alone, without friends, with parents who looked down on me, and no Zane to turn to.
It was just me, accompanied by my own tormenting thoughts.
I had another nightmare last night, one from my childhood.
I stood behind a massive glass wall, surrounded by a crowd of people.
I banged on the glass with my small fists, crying and shouting, but no one could hear me or even notice I was there.
It felt as if I were invisible. That was how I felt—completely unseen.