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Mistake

Author: Ms. Anonymous
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-14 13:38:28

ZANE

The unread messages started piling up the night I left for Chicago.

I clench my fist around my phone, trying to steady my breathing as my feet pound against the treadmill. The steady hum of the machine does nothing to quiet the frustration building up inside me.

I’m in the indoor gym in our house. Emilia researched the brands — only filling the house with the best of the best — of all the equipment and decorated the gym meticulously according to my tastes. Hell, she’d decorated our entire house.

Hmph. Well, I guess it’s just my house now.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The house feels emptier, quieter—like something’s missing. But I shove that feeling down, focusing on the burn in my legs instead. It’s better this way. It has to be.

The week Emilia moved out, Bec moved in.

It was easier that way. Having someone who understood what it was like to always be in the spotlight. Someone who got the pressure, the expectations, the constant need to be at your best. We cou
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  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   The Truth About Jessica

    LIAMThe cops take our statements, asking just enough questions to piece together what happened. By the time they’re satisfied, they let us know we might be called down to the station later for a full report.Then they’re gone.Oldie shuts the place down early — not that he had much choice. Most people cleared out the moment the screaming started. Honestly, I’ll be surprised if this doesn’t make headlines by morning.I hang back and watch Emilia with Oldie for a while, the phone pressed to my ear. She catches my eye once or twice, offering me small, shaky smiles. Oldie’s leaning on her more than he probably means to, one hand pressed to his back, clearly in pain, but she says nothing — just lets him lean. Quiet strength. That’s what comes to my mind every time I think of her.I look away. The rage simmers again.The line finally picks up.“Li?” Jessica’s voice is soft. Cautious. A little hoarse. “Is it really you?”I glance back at Emilia, who’s helping Oldie settle into one of the ch

  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   No More Secrets

    EMILIAThe blood drains from my face so fast I feel dizzy.A staff member rushes over, drawn by my scream, panic already flickering in his eyes. I’m still stumbling backwards, chest heaving, my pulse thundering in my ears.“There’s a man,” I gasp, pointing toward the restroom, “in the women’s bathroom— he has a knife. A pocket knife— he— he was dressed like—”I can’t even finish the sentence.The staff member doesn’t wait. He bolts toward the bathroom, yelling something into his walkie-talkie. Everything else becomes a blur. A group of teenagers nearby are staring, wide-eyed. Someone grabs their friend’s arm and pulls them away. A siren begins to sound faintly in the distance — or maybe it’s just the ringing in my ears.And then—“Emilia!”Liam.He barrels through the crowd like a storm, eyes locked on mine — wild, frantic, like nothing else matters.The second he reaches me, his hands are on my arms, grounding me, steadying me, like he’s worried I’ll vanish if he blinks.“Emilia,” he

  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   Oldie

    EMILIAWe eventually find the air hockey table — tucked between a photo booth and a flashing wall of pinball. After absolutely obliterating Liam (and celebrating like I’d just won an Olympic medal), I start to feel like myself again.We move from game to game — racing sims, whack-a-mole, that ridiculous fruit-slicing thing — and in between, we pause. We watch other people play. We laugh at a toddler trying to wrestle a ticket out of the prize dispenser. And we talk.Sometimes we don’t.Liam gets recognised more than a few times. A group of girls near the claw machine freeze mid-squeal when they spot him. A couple of guys at the racing game do double takes. He simply smiles, takes the photos, signs napkins and receipts and phone cases like it’s nothing — which, for him, maybe it is.But what gets me is that he never lets go of my hand.Not once.It doesn’t matter if someone tries to slide in beside him like I’m invisible. It doesn’t matter when I catch a whisper or two behind someone’s

  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   It's A Date

    EMILIAThere’s probably something mildly concerning about how the second Liam and I start competing, I lose all sense of my surroundings.I stop noticing the crowd pressing in around us, the blaring sounds from a dozen machines, the fact that the smell of popcorn wasn’t, in fact, just a delusion born from hunger and adrenaline. A group of kids huddle by the claw machine, yelling as a stuffed bear slips from the metal pincers, and I’m hit with this weird, almost bittersweet déjà vu.“Have you ever noticed every place you take me is wildly fun?” I say, scanning the room with him in search of the air hockey table. Liam mumbles something about them having moved it since he was last here. “You’re either losing at arcade games, failing to win me stuffed animals, or crashing weddings. It’s all very moving. And, somehow, always deeply humiliating — for you.”His brow twitches. For a brief second, I wonder if this is the one jab too many and his face is about to shatter into stone chips. “Soun

  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   The Delusional Seer

    EMILIAThe thing about being incredibly good at something is that no one sees it coming when you decimate them.Especially not smug, tall, completely-soft-on-the-inside boys who talk like they invented charm and arcade games.“You’ve played this before,” Liam says flatly, staring at the Dance Dance Revolution machine like it just personally betrayed him.I shrug, failing (barely) to hide my grin. “Maybe. Once. Twice. Seventeen times. Who’s counting?”He narrows his eyes. “You lured me in. You knew you were going to win.”“I warned you. You didn’t listen. That’s not on me.”“You baited me with false vulnerability.”I place a hand over my heart. “You think I’m capable of manipulation? I’m flattered.”He groans like he’s actually in pain. “You’re evil.”“I prefer morally flexible,” I say sweetly.“Same difference,” he mutters, but it sounds more like he’s trying to reassure himself than insult me. “I told you I’d let you win the first round. Don’t expect the same kindness twice.”I gasp.

  • Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player   Challenge Accepted

    EMILIAI instantly get defensive, momentarily forgetting that if this basket in the sky decides to tilt, I’ll be falling to my death. “Are you seriously trying to blame me for your mistakes?”His lips twitch. “I wouldn’t dare. Truly.” He’s trying not to laugh, but he’s failing miserably — his shoulders are shaking, and his mouth is twitching like he’s choking on a smirk.“Besides,” he adds, eyes dancing, “you’re the one who mocked me when the balloon lady asked if you were scared.”“That was before the adrenaline wore off.”He grins. “You mean when you climbed in first and said, and I quote, ‘It’s okay if you’re too scared. Not everyone’s built for conquering their fears’? That was just the adrenaline talking?”“I’ve grown since then,” I hiss. “It was a lapse in judgement. A temporary ego high.”“Well, colour me inspired. I’m so impressed I can barely speak,” he mocks, cupping my cheeks with that infuriatingly smug smile spreading wider. “Truly, the arc on you.”“Does this mean we can

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