All Chapters of The One I Can't Escape: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

For one terrible second, I say nothing.Oliver stands there, still, patient, the very image of someone who doesn’t doubt the outcome. And that’s what makes my stomach twist the most—his certainty. Like he’s already played this scene in his head and knows exactly how it ends.I glance around the table, searching for an out. Samantha’s still smiling like this is a sitcom reunion and not a minefield. Lea’s distracted, fussing with the candles, her fingers smudged with frosting. But Jace—Jace is watching Oliver.He smiles.A friendly, effortless kind of smile.There’s not the slightest flicker of recognition.And that’s wrong.Because Jace told me—promised me—that he’d recognize the man from the pub. The one he left me with. The one he said he’d never forget. The one I ended up running from.But right now, Jace is looking at Oliver like he’s a stranger.My mind races. Maybe he doesn’t remember him. Maybe Oliver looks different in daylight, or the memory’s blurred. Or maybe Jace is pretend

The chair screeches against the floor as I push it back and rise.“I’m done here.”Lea stands abruptly. “Jude, wait—”“Don’t follow me,” I snap, sharper than I intended. My voice cuts the air like glass. “Just don’t.”She freezes, lips parted, eyes wide with guilt and fear, but she doesn’t move.Jace doesn’t stand. He doesn’t even look at me. Just stares down at his untouched plate like maybe if he focuses hard enough, he can disappear into it.I walk away from the table, each step heavier than the last.Outside, the night has settled in—cold and wide and uncaring. The city lights blur as my eyes sting.Then, footsteps echo behind me.It’s Oliver.Of course it’s Oliver.He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks quietly by my side until we’re far enough from the cafe that the noise and warmth feel like they belonged to someone else’s life.Then, gently, he says, “You shouldn’t be too hard on them.”I stop walking and turn to him slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”“At least they told the truth,”

Christopher stands up sharply, the words "we're a couple now" hanging in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. His gaze flickers between me and Oliver, each darting glance filled with disbelief, fury, and something darker. His fists clench at his sides. For a second, I think he's going to shout, or worse, explode.Isabella, ever the calm presence, stands between us and him, arms folded tightly. She's the firefighter, trying to keep the flame from spreading, her expression a mixture of concern and authority. The tension in the room is so thick, it feels like time itself has paused, holding its breath.I can't breathe. I can feel my pulse in my ears, thudding, drowning out everything except the silence that's strangling the air."Why... Why would he say that?" The words escape my lips in a soft, almost broken whisper, my voice thick with confusion and something deeper. In that moment, I want nothing more than to disappear, to vanish from this suffocating room.I wonder why Oliver didn’

Of all the people who could’ve been here at this hour—of all the faces I could’ve seen turning onto this quiet street—it had to be Zane.My stomach twists the second I recognize his walk, that easy arrogance in his stride, the shape of his jacket hunched slightly like always. He hasn’t seen us yet—his head is tipped slightly down, thumbs scrolling on his phone, earbuds in.But in a few steps, he will.Panic flares in my chest like a warning flare. My hand jerks back from Oliver’s like I’ve touched fire.“Oliver,” I whisper urgently, stepping closer to him. “We need to go. Now.”He looks at me, puzzled. “What—why?”I don’t answer. Just nod toward the approaching figure. And the second Oliver’s eyes land on Zane, his expression hardens—not with fear, but with something like... resolution.Of course he’s not going to walk away. It’s all except Oliver to back down in the face of adversity.“We can go around the block,” I say again, desperate now. “Please.”Oliver doesn’t move.“Jude,” he

We don’t even bother telling Mrs. Smith.I barely remember grabbing our bags—just the sound of Oliver’s footsteps echoing beside mine down the hallway, both of us moving on instinct. The world outside the theater is loud and colorless, too bright and too blurry all at once. The car ride is a mess of silent roads and tangled thoughts, the kind where the only thing that matters is the next breath and the one after that.Oliver’s staring out the window, jaw tight, hand clenched so hard around his phone I hear it creak.I glance at him. “Was it your dad who called?”He shakes his head slowly, voice like gravel. “Your dad.”My father.“He said she collapsed in the kitchen. He found her. Ambulance barely made it in time.”Oliver swallows, hard, like he’s choking on every word.My chest tightens. I don’t know what to say, so I just reach over and take his hand again. He lets me. Doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t pull away either.It’s enough.---The hospital is colder than I expected. No