All Chapters of Never Mine To Love: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

River's Pov.It felt like the whole city had been waiting for me to step off that plane just so it could throw a weight on my shoulders.The smell of car exhaust curled through the air, mixing with the faint scent of brewed coffee drifting from somewhere nearby. Taxi engines hummed in the distance, the sound rising and falling as cars pulled up and left again.Noah and I didn’t talk much as we wheeled our bags toward the cab line. The click of our suitcase wheels over the uneven pavement filled in the silence, along with the occasional call from a driver trying to snag a fare. His shoulder brushed mine once or twice as we moved forward, and each time, it sent a little jolt through me—not from nerves exactly, but from the quiet awareness of him.When it was our turn, we climbed into the back of a taxi. The seats were warm from the sun, the leather slightly sticky against my legs. Noah gave his address first, leaning forward toward the driver with the easy confidence I sometimes envied

River’s POVMorning light slipped through the blinds in thin, pale lines that cut across the floor and the foot of my bed. It made little stripes over my blanket, over my tangled legs, like the sun was trying to be pretty for me but I wasn’t in the mood to notice.I hadn’t really slept. Every time I closed my eyes, the message came back, hovering in that place between thought and dream like it was etched there in ink I couldn’t scrub away.Time’s up, Little River.The words had destroyed my night sleep. It's like a nightmare of a twelve year old after watching a horror movie for the first time, it made me tossed and turned, flipping my pillow over and over, trying to find the cool side like it would help. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet where you swear you hear footsteps that aren’t there, a door hinge sighing when no one’s moving.By the time I dragged myself out of bed, my body felt sluggish, my head thick and buzzy from too little sleep. I pulled on the first clean cloth

River’s POV The taxi ride felt long or maybe I was just being me, impatient as always. Every bump in the road hit me like a fist, sharp and fast, each one rattling something loose in my chest where that last text still sat, ticking like a bomb I couldn’t defuse. "I can't wait to ruin every thought of you, especially in bed" I’d read it once. Twice. Then again, slow this time, like maybe the words would soften if I gave them another chance. They didn’t. They just stare back at me just like the other messages I've gotten, short, cold, final. Looking like they were daring me to do something, 'Go ahead River, try your worse and I'll keep staring back at you till you're tired' I shoved the phone deep in my pocket out of frustration, whoever this was, is clearly enjoying toying with my feelings. My palm stayed clenched long after, like it didn’t trust the thing not to crawl back into my hand. I turned to the window instead, hoping for distraction. But the streets outside didn’t fee

River’s POV When I opened my eyes, the room was dim. Not dark—just… soft. Like the light was tiptoeing around, careful not to wake me too fast. Careful not to startle me. The couch under me was warm, the cushions molded just enough to feel like they were holding me up, not just keeping me there. The blanket was tucked right up under my chin, like someone had made sure it couldn’t slip even if I moved. It smelled faintly of laundry soap and something that reminded me of Noah’s hoodie—comfort and home, even though I didn’t think I had those anymore. My chest still felt tight, but not like before. Not that crushing, airless kind of tight. More like the ghost of it was still hanging around in the corners, waiting for a chance to sneak back in. My head was heavy, fuzzy, the way you feel when you’ve been underwater too long and finally come up, but your ears are still ringing. The first thing I saw was Noah. He was sitting on the floor beside the couch, leaning against it like he

Daniel’s POVMy hands trembled so badly I nearly dropped the phone.The photos weren’t blurry. They weren’t rumors or whispers you could shrug off and hope would fade. They were sharp. Cruel. Alive in the way they told the story I’d spent weeks trying to bury.Me.River.Us.The screen burned in my hands. My stomach lurched, twisting so violently I thought I’d be sick right there in the middle of the hotel lounge. The room tilted, the floor shifting like someone had yanked it out from under me.This wasn’t whispers behind closed doors anymore. This wasn’t Olivia’s fury, contained in the four walls of our house. It wasn’t River cutting me off with a simple block.This was now public and now, in every site or blogs.By now, anyone with an internet connection knew.I pressed a palm to my face, dragging it slowly down like I could peel the panic off. My skin felt hot, feverish, damp with sweat I hadn’t realized was there.What would this mean for me? For the university? For Elliot?For Ri