22 — Leaving For Good

Hailey was sprawled on the couch in an oversized shirt, hair messy, makeup halfway gone from the night before. A cup of coffee sat on the table in front of her.

She looked up and, in a flash, she was in front of me. She didn’t even give me time to take my shoes off before she wrapped me in a hug. A real one. The kind that squeezes your ribs and your brain at the same time.

I had informed her over the phone what transpired between Trevor and I. I might have said I was leaving for… good.

Her place always smelled like vanilla and wet paint. A strange combination that somehow felt like warmth and crazy and safety. And then there was Dobby, the little furry prince who had decided I was his from the moment he stared up at me with those brown, cosmic eyes.

He pawed at my ankle like he was personally offended I’d stayed away longer than usual.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hailey murmured against my shoulder, then gently tugged me toward the lounge.

Of course. The lounge.

Our Switzerland.

Whenever we fought, cried, celebrated, panicked, or verbally destroyed stupid boys, it always happened in this room. Never the bedroom, never the kitchen. Here, surrounded by her mother’s art collection, seascape paintings, abstract pieces, splattered colours that somehow made perfect sense together.

It was the kind of space you could get lost in. The kind that made the rest of the world a little less loud.

The only window was covered by a stained-glass panel, framed around a family portrait that looked like it belonged in a museum. Hailey’s mother—the resident art collector—never did anything the normal way.

Then there were the throw pillows. Marvel characters everywhere. Hulk’s angry face glared from the sofa. Iron Man smirked smugly from a corner.

And then there he was.

Captain America.

Staring at me like I owed him an apology.

Okay… that was dramatic.

I just liked him. Fine, loved him. Whatever.

I sank into one of the Italian chairs while Hailey plopped down beside me, hugging a Thor pillow like she was waiting for him to propose.

Dobby hopped into my lap, curled his fluffy body against me, and let out a sigh that somehow made me feel better.

Hailey cleared her throat.

Which was never a good sign.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What happened?”

“I told you everything over the phone.”

“You look like you fought a war and lost,” she said. “Don’t give me ‘nothing.’”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I said I’m fine.”

She went quiet for a second.

“Alessia… this might sound insane or irrational.” She bit her lip, waiting for my permission to continue.

I gave her a small nod.

She inhaled. “I think you should go back to Trevor.”

I blinked.

Hard.

She rushed on before I could object. “Just listen. You called me on the way here. I know you’re hurt. I know you’re angry. And I know you had a moment—okay, maybe several—where you thought about bailing on everything.”

“I didn’t think about bailing,” I countered. “I thought about… postponing.”

“Postponing,” she repeated. “You mean running.”

“No,” I said sharply. “And I explained what I saw. What he did. Not once but twice, Hailey. He shoved his infidelity in my face.”

“You saw two girls and assumed—”

“Please,” I cut her off. “He had more than his tongue in one at his mansion yesterday. I saw her red thong. I wanted to tell you, but then the leaked picture from his bachelor party stole the show. And the blonde girl at the club? She was grinding on him like rent was due. You saw that one yourself.”

Hailey sighed. “Sweetheart, listen—”

“And you want me to go back to him? Just like that? Oh, I’m sorry, should I clap for him next time? Or maybe join them? What happens when he starts coming home late after the wedding? Or stops coming home at all? Am I supposed to just sit there smiling like an idiot?”

She studied me for a long second.

Then she said it.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Alessia.”

“I said I’m not!” My voice came out louder than I expected.

Silence filled the room.

She didn’t back down.

“You don’t get this angry unless it matters.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you leave?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

That annoyed me more.

“I left because I wanted to, and I told you the reason,” I finally said.

“You ran.”

“I don’t run.”

“You literally got in a cab at sunrise.”

I looked away.

“That’s not running.”

“That’s running with extra steps.”

I let out a breath through my nose.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

I grabbed the throw pillow, gripping it tighter than necessary.

“I just don’t like being disrespected,” I said. “That’s it.”

“That’s not it.”

“It is.”

“It’s part of it,” she corrected. “Not all of it.”

I shook my head. “You’re overthinking.”

“No. You’re under-admitting.”

I scoffed.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly.

“Did it bother you?”

“No.”

“Did it make you feel something?”

“No.”

“Did you care?”

“No.”

She tilted her head.

“Then look me in the eye and say it. Last time I checked, it’s a contractual marriage. Babe, I love you, and honestly, I’d love for you two to be real. But I don’t want you to get hurt, and that’s who this man is. A walking heartbreak.”

I met her gaze.

Opened my mouth.

Closed it.

That was all she needed.

Her expression softened just a little.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s what I thought. Alessia Nicole Maxwell. You like this man.”

“I don’t, Hailey. I’m not jealous, but it’s really upsetting and utterly disrespectful for him to throw his whores in my face. And now the media are digging about his fiancée who is supposed to be me. To the outside world, our relationship is real as it comes. Only him, you, and I know it’s the opposite. What about his parents, especially his mom? Wouldn’t they think otherwise?”

“I get you. I know you’re not an idiot.”

“Thanks. Really comforting.”

“Babe.” She touched my arm gently. “You’re not doing this for Trevor.”

“I know that.”

“You’re doing it for your mom.”

My chest tightened.

She let the words hang.

“You remember that, right?” she said softly.

I looked away.

Because remembering hurt more than forgetting.

“I know you, Ally,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this insanity if it wasn’t for her. You wouldn’t have swallowed your pride, put up with his temper, the media, the pressure if you had any other choice.”

I swallowed hard.

She continued, “Your mom. That’s the reason. The only reason.”

I didn’t say anything.

Couldn’t.

Because she was right.

And that made everything worse.

Hailey squeezed my hands. “I know it’s hard. I know it feels humiliating. But you are doing something extraordinary. You chose responsibility over ego. You chose her.”

She paused, letting the words settle like dust in a quiet room.

“And Ally…” Her voice softened. “I’m proud of you.”

I looked at her sharply.

She didn’t say things like that. Ever.

“You think I don’t know how strong you are?” she asked. “I do. If I were in your shoes, I’d be face-deep in misery right now. But you—you keep it together. Even when it’s unfair. Even when it hurts. And that’s bravery. Real bravery.”

I stared at her.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

She had shocked me. Beautifully. Unexpectedly. Like someone who had been silly for years suddenly decided to show the maturity she’d been hiding under jokes and sarcasm.

I let out a shaky exhale.

“Life’s a bitch,” she said with a shrug. “But you, Ally…somehow you never let her win.”

A small, humourless smile pulled at my lips.

She was right.

Painfully right.

She didn’t need to say anything else.

I already knew the answer.

Two simple words that felt like swallowing glass.

Get married.

It burned.

It was heavy.

It felt like pouring salt on an open wound and stitching it shut with my bare hands.

But it was the only path left.

For my mother.

I hated that it felt like both strength and surrender at the same time.

And that it had to be me walking that line.