Chapter 11
NOW
Late August
Monday
My fingers moved quickly, tapping the screen, navigating away from Charlotte’s profile and searching for another…
Ryan’s.
I studied his grid. There were no recent posts. No glimpses into his life in the days since his departure. Just the same sparse grid I remembered. Scattered, updated months apart. Sunsets. Landscapes. Promotional posts for the stables. There were rarely any photos of people. And never any of him.
Not that it surprised me. He’d always been like that. He kept his life private.
I’d liked that about him. The way he didn’t need to announce everything to anyone else in order for it to mean something. Things that mattered, really mattered, like the photos we took together, the moments we shared, the plans we made, they were just for us.
Yet, despite that, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment. Some tiny part of me still wished he had shared photos of us. Not the way Charlotte did. Not for show. Not for approval, or to stir jealousy. But maybe just to show that what we had actually existed. It was real. We were real.
Not for anyone else’s benefit, but for mine. To signify that what we had was solid.
But then, in the end, it turned out it hadn’t been.
Either time.
Then again, even if Ryan had posted photos of us, he’d have deleted them by now. He wouldn’t have wanted the reminder. Not for him, and especially not for Charlotte.
She would have made sure he removed them. Erased me from his life like I’d never been there.
I let out a frustrated sigh. Stalking them on social media had proved just as ineffective as stalking Charlotte in real life. All I had were more questions I couldn’t answer.
None of it made sense.
Why would Charlotte pretend? And, if it was all a lie, why would Ryan leave?
Charlotte’s life was a public performance, while Ryan’s was secretive and hidden.
Even from me.
The realisation struck like a punch to my stomach. This wasn’t a new experience to find myself on the periphery of Ryan’s world, questioning what he really wanted. But this time I was doing it from afar.
Usually, I’d simply ask him. Not outright. Not demanding. He’d shut down even further at the slightest hint of expectation or frustration. But, with a little subtle coaxing and gentle probing, he’d open up to me.
At least, he used to.
But, without him here to talk to, what could I do?
I set the phone down on the table in front of me. Perhaps I’d been going about this all wrong; skulking in the shadows, guessing at meanings. It wasn’t working.
But waiting for him to explain wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going to come to me. Which meant I was going to have to go to him.
Gentle and careful wasn’t going to cut it. If I wanted the truth, I was going to have to demand it.
I wasn’t going to let Ryan just walk away.
Not this time.