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Chapter Twenty-Nine: High Stakes and Low Blows
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2026-07-23 00:06:05
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nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Four: The Quiet After the Storm
My bedroom in our new loft was the only space that felt completely finished. Chris and Bianca had helped me drag in my massive white vanity, the faux-fur rug, the towering gold-framed mirror, and the sheer, dramatic pink curtains that pooled on the hardwood floor. It looked like a high-fashion sanctuary—a pastel-pink dream designed to shield me from the harshness of the outside world.But tonight, the room felt too big. Too quiet.I was curled up on the center of my mattress, buried under a mountain of plush blankets. And despite everything—despite the runway second-place victory, despite the glorious satisfaction of kissing Dom in front of the entire campus, and despite the fact that I knew I deserved so much better—I was wearing Malik’s oversized, faded gray varsity hoodie.It was pathetic. I knew it.If this were a movie, the strong, independent protagonist would have burned the hoodie the second she found out about the betrayal. But in real life? Detaching yourself from your
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-Three: The Aftermath and the Agreement
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed with a cheerful little ring as we walked out, but the atmosphere inside that café remained entirely dead. I could feel the burning weight of fifty pairs of eyes boring into my back, but I didn't care. My lips were still tingling. My heart was a frantic, wild thing, beating so hard against my ribs I was sure Dom could feel it through the heavy wool of his coat. Dom didn't say a single word. He kept his large, warm hand wrapped securely around my waist, guiding me smoothly through the double doors, down the concrete steps, and straight toward his Jeep parked on the curb. The second the passenger door clicked shut behind me, the bubble popped. I slumped back against the leather seat, burying my face in my hands. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I actually did that. I am insane. I have officially lost my mind." The driver’s side door opened, and Dom slid in. He didn't start the engine. He just sat there in the quiet cabin of the Jeep. I slowly
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-two:The Art of pretending
I woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of Chris's dramatic laughter echoing from the kitchen. I sat up, stretching, only to realize I was still wearing Dom's oversized black t-shirt. The soft cotton had stretched out overnight, and as I walked out into the open-concept living room, the hem brushed against my thighs. Chris was sitting on a cardboard box, holding a mug, while Bianca leaned against the kitchen counter. The moment they saw me, their eyes locked onto the massive black tee. "Oh, look who decided to join the living," Chris purred, a wicked, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "You went out for a basic lecture yesterday and came back dressed in the scent of expensive cedarwood, clean laundry, and a six-foot-two brooding artist. Fascinating." "Leo texted me that you had a little chocolate accident," Bianca giggled, sipping her coffee. "But he didn't mention you'd be bringing home souvenirs." "It's just a shirt," I mumbled, my
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty-One: The Chocolate Fountain Spill
I didn't reply to Malik's comment. I stared at his words—You looked good out there, Kels—for a solid ten minutes, my thumb hovering over the screen. A younger, more fragile version of me would have typed out a stinging, sarcastic retort, or perhaps a desperate, lingering question. But the girl in the liquid-silver dress? She didn't say a damn thing. Doing too much would only feed his ego, making him think he still held some kind of leverage over my peace of mind. So, I left the comment there, like a trophy of his regret, and locked my phone. The next afternoon, the high-fashion adrenaline had officially faded into the mundane reality of college life. Aethelgard was hosting a mandatory-attendance campus panel on student entrepreneurship in the main student union building. "I would rather swallow a sewing needle," Chris had groaned, burying his face under three heavy duvets on his mattress in our empty loft. "I'm sleeping for the next forty-eight hours. My fingers are literally
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Thirty: The Ashes on the Runway
Backstage at the university's grand auditorium, the atmosphere was absolute, high-fashion adrenaline. The air was a thick cloud of hairspray, expensive perfume, and steam from the row of fabric steamers. Designers were screaming, models were being frantically stitched into their garments, and makeup artists were aggressively blending eyeshadow under the blinding vanity lights. In our designated corner, Chris and Bianca had turned into a two-person hurricane. "More volume on the curls!" Chris commanded, pointing a comb at Bianca, who was carefully styling my natural hair into a towering, majestic halo. "She needs to look like a storm cloud before the lightning strikes! Bianca, check the seams on the silver!" They had outdone themselves. The outfit was a structural masterpiece. Over my shoulders, I wore a heavy, dramatically draped, dark charcoal wool wrap that covered me completely—looking like a burnt, protective, and imposing shell. But underneath, Chris had built a breathtakin
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Twenty-Nine: High Stakes and Low Blows
I didn't wait for Dom to reply. I didn't want to see the frustration in his eyes turn into something softer, or worse, something pitying. I just turned on my heel, the hem of my black slip dress brushing against my calves, and walked back into the warmth of the crowded house. But escaping him wasn't that easy. When the party finally started winding down around two in the morning, Bianca and I realized her brand-new SUV was completely boxed in by three different cars in the narrow driveway. With Chris and Leo practically attached at the hip, Leo immediately offered a solution. "Dom can drive us," Leo said, his arm wrapped securely around Chris's waist. "He didn't drink, and his car is parked out on the main street." Which was how I found myself pressed against the passenger door in the backseat of Dom's vintage, dark-gray Jeep, staring pointedly out the window. Chris and Leo were in the front, completely lost in their own sweet, quiet bubble, murmuring to each other and holdin
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