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Chapter 37: Crimson and Clarity
Last Updated:
2025-06-15 13:54:53
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The One I Can't Escape Chapter 43: Fire and Glass
The door swings open with a sharp creak.Isabella steps inside, grocery bags balanced in both hands—but when she sees my mother sitting on the couch, her expression freezes. The bags fall to the floor with a dull thud, apples rolling across the tiles like dropped marbles.Her eyes lock onto my mom. “What are you doing here?”Calmly, my mother stands. “This is still my house,” she replies, chin slightly lifted. “Christopher and I made it 50/50. So technically, I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”I blink, stunned.That was news to me.All this time, I thought Dad got the house after the divorce. I didn’t know they still shared it.But what really gets me—the part that tightens my chest—is how Isabella knew who Mom was. To my knowledge, they had never met. Not once.Yet here they are, facing each other like bitter rivals who’ve done this before.Isabella doesn’t blink. She leaves the door wide open behind her as she steps closer, eyes locked on Mom, not even sparing me a glan
The One I Can't Escape Chapter 42: No Words Left
“Oliver!” I shout, breath hitching as I break into a run.My bag bounces against my side, my lungs burn, but I don’t stop. Not even when Zane calls my name behind me—not angry, not smug, just… empty. Like he already knows he’s not part of the scene anymore.But right now, I don’t care what he feels.Right now, I’m chasing the one person I can’t afford to lose.Oliver’s steps slow ahead, just enough.I push harder.“Oliver, wait—please!”He doesn’t stop. But he lets me reach him.He turns.And when our eyes meet, I feel something crumble.“What are you going to say?” he asks, voice quiet but sharp like broken glass. “That what I saw wasn’t what I saw? That he kissed you? That you tripped and fell into his mouth?”I wince. His words hit harder than a punch.“You’re not going to say anything,” he says, shaking his head. “Because there’s nothing to say. The facts are there. Right in front of me. No lies. No accidents. Just truth.”I open my mouth. I really do. I want to explain, to make i
The One I Can't Escape Chapter 41: Mixed Signals and Midterms
The scent of pine-scrub floor cleaner fills my lungs as I drag the brush along the grout lines. My fingers ache. My knees are bruised from hours on the tiles. My reflection in the polished oven door looks like someone else—someone worn down, scraped hollow, obedient.Perfect.I lean forward, scrubbing harder.And then—I feel him.A presence behind me, warm and close, and before I can turn, his hand slides over mine, stopping the brush mid-stroke.“Are you planning to die doing this?” Oliver murmurs, his voice low, rough with amusement. “Because if so, you’re doing a hell of a job.”I don’t move. I don’t look up.“It’s your call,” I say evenly. “You can either let me or stop me.”His fingers tighten just slightly. “You never ask for help,” he says, mouth closer now—too close. “You just punish yourself until you bleed. It’s such a turn-on, it’s honestly rude.”I almost laugh. Almost.But then his thumb brushes the inside of my wrist—just once—and the air leaves my lungs in a shaky breat
The One I Can't Escape Chapter 40: Eat Dirt, Win Gold
My father’s month of punishment couldn’t have come at a worse time—right in the middle of exam season. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t complain or plead my case. Maybe I was too tired. Maybe I didn’t want to hear how much more disappointed he could be. Or maybe… maybe silence felt safer than being told, again, how much I’d let him down.Besides, what would be the point?He wasn’t listening anymore.And Isabella? She’s watching. Every step I take now is under her microscope.But that’s fine.If I want to beat her, I can’t charge in like I did last time. I need to play the long game—earn her trust, get close, and wait for her guard to slip. Because I still believe she’s hiding something. And now, with Oliver still by my side, even after everything, I know I won’t have to do this alone.So I start with the trash.Every bin in the house—kitchen, bathrooms, laundry room. It’s disgusting, humbling work. My palms sting from the sharp edge of a broken mug I didn’t see, and the garbage bag leaks
The One I Can't Escape Chapter 39: The Price of Doubt
The silence that follows my father’s words is thicker than the velvet curtain behind him. My lungs strain against it, the weight of my humiliation anchoring me to the polished floor.Isabella won more than a battle tonight.She won credibility.She won my father.She might’ve even won Oliver.And I lost—everything I gambled, and more.I sit there, surrounded by clinking silverware and the faint hum of jazz, but all I hear is the low thud of my own heartbeat. The shame prickles under my skin like heat rash, crawling from my throat to the tips of my fingers.I have to leave. I can’t stay here—not under her smug gaze, not with Oliver looking at me like he doesn’t know who I am anymore.I push my chair back, its wooden legs screeching slightly against the floor.But before I can rise, Dad’s voice cuts through the air.“Sit down.”I freeze.He’s not yelling. That would’ve been easier to handle. But the calmness in his voice—measured, deliberate—somehow slices deeper.I obey, like a child c
The One I Can't Escape Chapter 38: Fractures Beneath the Surface
Alan doesn’t smirk when he speaks—he sneers. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.“So we graze where the grass is green, huh?” he says. “When Zane shines, you're with him. When Oliver shines, you abandon Zane like a shipwreck, left to rot at the bottom of the sea while you hop aboard a brand-new boat. And tomorrow, if Oliver stops shining, who will you choose next? The new captain, perhaps?”A few students nearby pause mid-step, ears twitching, catching the tension like static.But I don’t flinch.I meet Alan’s eyes, calm and cutting. “Is that how you live, Alan? Jumping from one spotlight to the next because you’re too scared to stand still in the dark?”His jaw tightens, but I go on.“You talk like you know me, like you ever had the right. But here’s the thing—you weren’t the storm. You were the wreckage. And I’ve already picked who I am, and who I’m not going back to.”I step closer, voice low and sharp. “So here’s your answer: I don’t need a captain. I’m the damn ship.”Alan bl
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