Semua Bab Never Mine To Love: Bab 81 - Bab 89

River’s POVI didn’t sleep.Even after Noah left, even after the tea, even after the storm passed and Aunt Lydia started humming those old college songs on her way to bed, I just lay there.The ceiling above me felt too quiet. Too aware.The dark didn’t feel like dark anymore. It felt like it was watching me. Like the shadows had grown eyes. They crept into the corners of the room, spread across the walls. Waiting. Watching. Holding their breath.Every time I shut my eyes, the photos came back.Me and Daniel. That night on the mountain. Noah at the party.And that message.“Slut.”It wouldn’t leave. It burned behind my eyelids, steady and cruel.My chest felt tight.I curled deeper into the blanket, hoping it would swallow me whole. But the air was wrong. Heavy. It pressed in on me like I was underwater. Like the whole world had tilted and I was gripping the edge, hoping I wouldn’t fall off.I kept checking my phone. Over and over. No new messages. Nothing. I didn’t even know what I w

Daniel’s POVOlivia had stopped speaking to me unless she absolutely had to.She still made coffee in the mornings. Still packed lunches, folded the laundry, left lights on for me when she went to bed first. But the warmth was gone. The casual ease. The unspoken closeness that makes sharing a home feel less like logistics and more like life.Now, everything she did felt tight. Measured. Carefully calculated to avoid unnecessary conversation. She moved like someone who was always just about to leave.And she never touched me anymore.Not even by accident. Not when reaching for the kettle, or brushing past in the kitchen, or walking by the couch when I was sitting there. She kept a distance like I was contagious.I’d tried to bridge it. I’d tried knocking gently on her office door when the house was quiet. I’d made her tea one night without her asking, and left it beside her with a soft, “Here.” I even tried sitting near her on the couch, saying her name gently, trying to talk about not

Ethan’s POVI was wiping the café counter for the third time, and it still wasn’t dirty.There were no customers waiting in line. No orders to make. Just soft music playing in the background and the quiet hum of the espresso machine. A couple of students were hunched over laptops in the corner. One girl was asleep on her open textbook. The place was calm, quiet.Too quiet.It gave my brain too much space to wander.I wiped the counter again.River hadn’t been home in days.Four, maybe five now? I lost track. At first, I thought he was just pulling one of his “space” things, staying out late, crashing somewhere else to clear his head. He did that sometimes. But this time felt different.He hadn’t texted.He hadn’t called.He hadn’t even come by to grab his hoodie that he always wore when he was stressed.I should’ve asked. I should’ve said something. But I didn’t.Instead, I kept pretending I didn’t notice. Kept telling myself maybe he was just busy. Or maybe he needed air. Or maybe it

River’s POV.Aunt Lydia had gone to work early, but she’d left a note on the kitchen counter like she always did. Her handwriting was round and neat, the kind that made everything feel warm.Morning, sweetheart. There’s soup in the fridge. Text me if you need anything. Love you.I didn’t text her.I just stood there, holding the note in my hand for a little longer than I needed to, like maybe if I stared at it long enough, it would say something else. Something more. Something that would make my chest hurt a little less.But it didn’t.I folded it carefully and placed it back where it was, next to the sugar jar with the chipped lid. Then I filled the kettle and waited for the water to boil. The quiet was heavy. Not peaceful. Just still. I felt like even the walls were holding their breath.I made tea the way Aunt Lydia taught me—black, no sugar, just a little milk. I wasn’t really craving it, but I needed to do something with my hands.Once it was ready, I took the mug and sat by the