You Were Never Supposed To Know

AYLA

I don’t turn around immediately, I can’t because if I do this becomes real and right now, there’s still a tiny part of me hoping I’m wrong and that this is some kind of misunderstanding, hoping that voice behind me doesn’t belong to the one person I don’t want it to belong to. But deep down?

I already know.

“You really don’t listen, do you?”

My grip tightens around the journal, I slowly turn and there he is standing there like nothing’s wrong, like he didn’t just shatter the one boundary I never thought anyone would cross, my chest tightens not just with anger, betrayal.

“You…” My voice comes out quieter than I expected. “You read it.” I said standing up from the bed walking slowly to him

It’s not a question, the proof is literally in my hands and he doesn’t deny it, hoesn’t even try “Yeah,” he says simply like was nothing, like it didn’t matter and that hurts more than anything.

“You had no right,” I say, my voice shaking now. “That was mine.”

“I know.”

“You know?” I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “And you still did it?”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away “No point lying about it now.”

My stomach drops because that response was not guilt or regret, it was acceptance and somehow that makes everything worse.

“How long?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately and the silence says everything, my heart sinks

“How long……..” his eyes meet mine again “Since the first day.”

The room feels like it was tilting and the ground beneath me just shifted “Since… the first day?” I repeat slowly, every moment, every interaction, every look he gave me, every comment that felt too accurate, too personal and it all clicks at once.

“You knew everything,” I whisper.

“Not everything.”

“But enough.”

He doesn’t deny that either and now I feel stupid, so stupid because I thought I was careful, I thought I was private, I thought I was in control of my own thoughts but he was reading them, understanding them, using them and I let him, get close, let him see me, I let him— have sex with me, my breath catches instantly

“You used it,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “Everything you said, the way you acted, that wasn’t real, was it?”

His expression changes slightly, not amused, he looked serious “Don’t do that,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Act like all of it was fake.”

I stare at him “Wasn’t it?”

And the silence was all I needed, I shaked my head, stepping back “Wow.” I said with my vouce fulk of disappointment, anger, hurt, regret. “I trusted you,” those words slipping out before I can stop it and omething in his expression shifts slightly but I see it.

“You shouldn’t have,” he says.

And that hits harder than anything else he’s ever said to me.

JACE

This is exactly why I didn’t want this to happen because nowshe’s looking at me like I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to her and maybe I am.

“You shouldn’t have.” that was the wrong thing to say, i knew it the second it left my mouth but I can’t take it back because it’s true, she shouldn’t have trusted me not with what I knew, not with what I’ve been doing but she did and now we’re here.

“You think this is funny?” she asks, her voice sharp now.

“No.”

“Then why are you acting like it doesn’t matter?”

“It does matter.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.”

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Her eyes narrow “Then how was it supposed to happen, Jace?”

I don’t answer because there’s no way to say it without making it worse

“I’m waiting,” she presses.

“It was just supposed to be… information,” I say finally

The second the words leave my mouth, I know I messed up, her expression drops, not anger this time, something colder.

“Information?” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“About me.”

I don’t respond because that’s exactly what it was at the start, and now it’s something else, but that doesn’t matter to her, not anymore.

“So what?” she says, her voice quieter now. “I was just some project to you?”

“No.”

“But you just said—”

“I said that’s how it started.”

She freezes slightly and for a second I think I might’ve made it worse, or maybe clearer, I don’t even know anymore.

AYLA

“How it started?” I repeat, my mind is spinning trying to catch up and and make sense of what he just said “You’re saying it changed?” I ask.

He hesitates and his hesitation is the only honest thing he’s given me so far.

“Yeah,” he says.

I let out a small, bitter laugh “Of course it did.”

Because now it’s convenient and emotional “That doesn’t fix anything,” I say.

“I know.”

“Then what exactly do you expect me to do with that?”

He doesn’t answer be cause there’s no good answer and there’s nothing he can say that makes this okay, I look down at my journal again, at the words he wrote, at the space that was supposed to be safe and isn’t anymore.

“You don’t get to know me like that,” I say quietly.

“I already do.”

My head snaps up.

“What?”

“You think reading your journal is what made me understand you?” he says. “It didn’t.”

“Then what did?”

“You.”

That catches me off guard.

“You just don’t realize how much you show,” he continues “Even when you think you’re hiding.”

I hate how that sounds true, I hate how it makes me feel exposed in a way I didn’t agree to “I don’t care,” I say quickly. “You crossed a line.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t get to just stand here and act like it’s okay.”

“I’m not saying it’s okay.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He steps closer, not too close “That last night wasn’t fake.”

My heart stutters and I hate that it does “Don’t,” I say immediately.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t bring that into this.”

“Why not? It matters.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I snap. “Because now I don’t even know if that was real or just another thing you calculated.”

His expression hardens slightly “That wasn’t calculated.”

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t.”

And that was the simple, brutal, unfixable, truth, I shake my head slowly. “Exactly.”

I pick up my bag, my journal now clutched tightly in my hand “I need space,” I say, he doesn’t stop me, doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to convince me otherwise and somehow that hurt too because part of me, a small, stupid part expected him to, expected him to fight, to say something that would make me stay, but he doesn’t and maybe that’s for the best. I walk past him, each step heavier than the last, but I don’t look back, I can’t, because if I do, I might hesitate, and I can’t afford that right now, not after this, not after him, behind me, his voice comes one last time, low, serious, and just enough to make my chest tighten

“Be careful what you write next time.”

I stop hust for a second then keep walking because now I don’t even know what’s mine anymore.

***************

I shouldn’t have stopped, I told myself I wouldn’t, that I’d just walk out, leave him standing there with his half-truths and empty explanations, and not look back, but I did because his last words didn’t feel like a warning, they felt like a reminder and I hate that slowly I turn back around. He hasn’t moved much, still standing there like this isn’t tearing everything apart, like he didn’t just break the one thing that mattered to me most “You think that’s funny?” I ask, my voice is steadier now, colder

He shakes his head slightly. “No.”

“Then why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true.”

That answer comes too easily, like he’s not even trying to soften it and something in me snaps again.

“No,” I say, stepping closer this time. “What’s true is that you invaded my privacy and now you’re acting like I’m the problem.”

“I’m not saying you’re the problem.”

“Then what are you saying, Jace?” I push. “Because right now, it sounds like you’re blaming me for writing things you weren’t supposed to read.”

His jaw tightens slightly “I’m saying you trusted the wrong place with things that matter.”

I stare at him “Are you actually hearing yourself right now?”

“I know how it sounds.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” because if he did, he wouldn’t be standing here like this, so calm and so sure, like he still has control of the situation “You don’t get to twist this,” I continue.“You don’t get to make it seem like this is somehow my fault.”

“I’m not twisting anything.”

“You are.”

I shake my head slowly “I trusted that journal because it was the only place I could be honest without being judged,” I say quietly. “Without being watched.”

His expression shifts slightly “You weren’t being judged,” he says

I laugh but it’s not funny “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“You read my thoughts without my permission, Jace. You don’t get to decide whether that felt like judgment or not.”

“Then what do you want me to say?” he asks after a moment.

The question throws me off “What?”

“What do you want?” he repeats. “An apology? Fine. I’m sorry.”

Too easy, like he’s just saying it because he has to, not because he means it and I hate that more than if he didn’t say it at all “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t throw an apology at me like it fixes everything.”

“I didn’t say it fixes anything.”

“Then why say it like that?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair “Because I don’t know how you want me to say it,” he admits.

That’s the first honest thing he’s said and it almost makes it worse because now I can’t just paint him as the villain, now I have to deal with the fact that he’s complicated and I don’t want complicated right now, I wantt simple and clear and he’s neither “You weren’t supposed to know me like that,” I say again, softer this time.

“I didn’t mean to at first.”

My brows pull together. “At first?”

He hesitates and I already know I’m not going to like whatever comes next.

JACE

This is the part I didn’t want to get to bcause there’s no version of this that makes me look good but she’s not going to let this go and honestly she shouldn’t “I found it by accident,” I say but her expression doesn’t soften, not even a little.

“Of course you did.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” she replies. “And I don’t believe you.”

Fair, I wouldn’t either “It was in Lina’s room,” I continue. “First time you came over.”

She freezes slightly, just for a second then recovers “You expect me to believe you just… found it and decided to read it?”

“No,” I say honestly. “I didn’t decide anything at first.”

“Then what happened?”

I look at her because this part matters “I read one page,” I admit.

“And?”

“And I shouldn’t have,” I say. “But I did.”

“So you just……kept going?” she asks.

“Not right away.”

“But you still did.”

“Yeah.”

No point lying now, not when everything’s already out.

“Why?” she asks.

And there it is, the question I don’t have a clean answer for bcause the truth is not simple “It didn’t feel like reading something private,” I say slowly.

Her eyes narrow. “That’s literally what it was.”

“I know. But it didn’t feel like that at the time.”

“Then what did it feel like?”

I hesitate then say it anyway “Like understanding something I didn’t before.”

She stares at me unimpressed and unmoved “And that made it okay?” she asked

“No.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

Because I couldn’t stop, because every page made me want to know more, because she wasn’t just Lina’s quiet friend I used to bully anymore, she was………“You,” I say simply and hat gets her attention.

“What?”

“It felt like I was finally seeing you,” I explain. “Not the version you show everyone else.”

Her expression hardens again “That’s not your choice to make.”

“I know.”

“Then why act like it was?”

“I’m not acting like it was,” I say. “I’m telling you what it felt like.”

“And I’m telling you it doesn’t matter how it felt,” she snaps. “It was wrong.”

“I know it was wrong.”

“Then stop justifying it.”

“I’m not justifying it.”

“It sounds like you are.”

We’re back here again, going in circles but this time it’s worse bcause now everything is out in the open and there’s no going back.

AYLA

I’m tired not physically, emotionally, mentally, everything just feels heavy and the worst part is that he’s not even denying it, he’s just explaining it in a way that makes it sound less bad, less wrong, less……… No, I won’t let him do that.

“You don’t get to understand me like that,” I say quietly.

“I already do,” he replies.

And that's the breaking point because it’s not arrogant, it’s just true and I hate that it might be “I wish you didn’t,” I whisper and something in his expression shifts again but I don’t stay long enough to figure out what it means, I walk away for real and I don’t stop, Imake it halfway down the hallway before I stop again, I hate myself for it, I really do, because at this point, I should be done, completely done, I should be walking away without hesitation, without second thoughts, without this constant pull dragging me back into something I know isn’t good for me but my chest feels tight like there’s still something unfinished, something I didn’t ask, something I don’t want to know but need to, my fingers tighten around my journal and sllowly, I turn back again and head straight to the room where I left him and this time, there’s no hesitation in my voice.

“What pages did you take?” Jace doesn’t move and doesn’t pretend he doesn’t understand which means he knows exactly what I’m talking about making my stomach drops.

“You noticed,” he says quietly.

I almost laugh but it comes out hollow “Of course I noticed,” I say. “You think I wouldn’t realize parts of my own thoughts are missing?”

His jaw tightens slightly but he doesn’t answer and his silence makes everything worse.

“Which ones?” I press, still nothing, my heart starts racing again because now it’s not just about him reading my journal, now it’s about what he chose to keep, what he decided was important enough to take, important enough to hide.

“What pages, Jace?” my voice is sharper now, more demanding, more desperate than I want it to be and finally he exhales slowly ike he’s been avoiding this exact moment.

“The ones about me.”

Everything inside me goes still “You’re lying,” I say immediately but my voice betrays me because it’s not strong or convincing, it’s barely holding together.

“I’m not.”

I shake my head quickly. “No, I would remember that.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he repeats, stepping closer this time, not aggressively, not forcefully, just enough to make his words land harder.

“You just didn’t think they mattered.”

My chest tightens painfully, because a part of me, amall, quiet part knows exactly what he’s talking about. Late nights, random thoughts, things I wrote and brushed off, things I told myself weren’t serious, weren’t real, weren’t important.

“You wrote about how much you hated me,” he continues.

I swallow “And?”

“And how much you paid attention to me anyway.”

My heart skips, I hate that he remembers, I hate that he noticed, I hate that he’s saying it out loud.

“You wrote about how you didn’t understand why I got under your skin,” he adds.

“Stop,” I say quickly

But he doesn’t “And how you thought I was—”

“Jace, stop.”

His voice lowers slightly but the words don’t.

“—different from what I pretend to be”

Hearing it from him feels like being stripped of something I didn’t give him permission to take “You don’t get to say that,” I whisper.

“Why not? You wrote it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s yours to repeat.”

His expression hardens slightly “I didn’t take it to use against you.”

“Then why take it at all?”

That question hits something and for the first time, Jace doesn’t look in control.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Don’t do that,” I say immediately.

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t have a reason.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Yes, you are,” I snap. “You don’t do anything without a reason. Not with the way you observe things. Not with the way you—” I stop myself, too late because now he’s looking at me like I just proved his point.

“Go on,” he says quietly.

I shake my head. “No.”

“You were saying something.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I insist. “Because none of this matters anymore.”

That’s a lie and we both know it.

JACE

She’s trying to shut it down, end it, alk away like none of this is affecting her but I know better, I’ve seen the way she processes things, the way she holds onto thoughts even when she pretends she doesn’t and right now she’s holding back s lot.

“You think I don’t have a reason?” I ask and she doesn’t answer or look at me.

“I took those pages because they were the only ones that felt real,” I say and it gets her attention, her eyes snap back to mine.

“What does that mean?”

“It means everything else you wrote?” I continue. “It was you trying to make sense of things.”

“And those pages weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then what were they?”

I hold her gaze steady “They were the only time you stopped overthinking.”

She freezes

“Those pages?” I go on, quieter now. “That was the only time you just… felt something without trying to explain it.”

Her breathing shifts slightly, I notice

“And you think that gives you the right to take them?” she asked

“No.”

“Then why are you talking like it does?”

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m telling you why they mattered.”

“To you,” she corrects.

“Yeah.”

“And what about me?” she challenges. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want you to see that?”

“It did.”

“And you still read it.”

“Yeah.”

No excuses, just the truth bcause that’s all I’ve got left.

AYLA

I don’t know what to do with that, I really don’t because he’s not lying, not anymore, he’s not trying to twist it not trying to make it sound better he’s just saying it exactly as it is and somehow that makes it harder to hate him but it doesn’t make it easier to forgive him either.

“I meant what I said,” I tell him quietly.

His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Which part?”

“I wish you didn’t know me like that.”

I almost feel bad but then I remember everything the journal, the pages, the way he looked at me like he already knew what I was going to say before I said it and that feeling was enough. “I can’t trust you,” I add.

He doesn’t argue or interrupt or try to fix it and that silence tells me everything I need to know so this time I don’t stop, I don’t turn back, I don’t hesitate, I walk away and even though every step feels heavier than the last, I keep going because if I don’t? I might stay and staying would be the worst decision I could make right now behind me, his voice doesn’t come again, no last words or dramatic lines, just silence and somehow………that hurts more.