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Chapter Twenty-Six: The Rebound Mistake
publish date:
2026-07-21 00:10:58
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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
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Red Velvet Confession
Even though our new loft apartment was practically empty, save for a few cardboard boxes and a blow-up mattress we had dragged in, the energy inside it was pure, unadulterated chaos. We were using the massive, gold-framed bathroom mirror to do our makeup, our voices bouncing off the bare hardwood floors as our favorite playlist blasted from Chris's portable speaker. "If we are doing this, we are doing it right," Chris declared, aggressively blending his eyeshadow. "I am nineteen tomorrow. I am practically an elder. I must look the part." "You look beautiful, C," Bianca laughed, adjusting the straps of her dress in the mirror. She had gone for an effortlessly chic look—a slinky, emerald green cowl-neck slip dress that complemented her skin perfectly. I stood behind them, taking a deep breath as I looked at my own reflection. Following Chris's golden advice of "If he acts cold, I act colder," I had dressed to absolutely slay. I wore a jaw-dropping, backless black slip dress that c
nineteen and unravelling Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Key to Everything
Three hours after Chris returned with the Thai takeout, the sharp, rhythmic knock on the dorm room door didn't sound like a typical college student. It was firm, deliberate, and entirely unexpected. Bianca looked up from her laptop, a makeup brush paused mid-air. "Are we expecting a package?" "No," I murmured, frowning as I pushed myself up from my floor mattress and padded across the room to open the door. The moment the handle turned, my breath caught in my throat. Standing in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway, wearing a flawless camel-hair trench coat, a cream cashmere sweater, and a warm, elegant smile, was my mother. She held a massive, premium bakery box in one hand and her designer handbag in the other, looking like she had stepped straight off a high-fashion mood board. "Mum!" I gasped, instantly throwing my arms around her neck. "Oh, my sweet girl," she murmured, hugging me fiercely, her familiar, comforting lavender-and-vanilla scent instantly wrappin
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