The Bad Boy’s Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

MONICAPacking always made everything feel too real too fast, like the moment you start folding clothes you admit the good parts are over and all that’s left is the long ride home and whatever silence waits there, and the hallways were loud with zippers and dragged suitcases and people yelling across rooms asking if anyone had seen chargers or shoes or that one hoodie they swear they came with. I sat on my bed staring at my open bag longer than necessary, my hands resting on my knees, listening for Julian’s laugh or his footsteps or literally any sign of him existing in the same building, but he was completely gone, ghosted, vanished, which honestly didn’t shock me because if anyone was deep in a honeymoon phase right now it was him, probably tangled up somewhere with Dominic, forgetting the rest of the world existed. Sadly, the rest of the world included me.I zipped my bag eventually and slid it off the bed, standing there for a second like I was waiting for something to stop me, b

GABRIELExam week was a blur I couldn’t quite put words to. My mornings started before the sun even had a chance to think about rising, sneakers hitting the gym floor before anything else. My body hurt in ways I didn’t know were even possible, muscles screaming from drills, sprints, push-ups, and weights heavier than I thought I could lift, but my mind was louder than any ache, and I needed noise, I needed pain, something other than the static thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone.Zoey avoided me now. She didn’t cross paths in the halls, didn’t answer if our eyes met, and somewhere that should’ve felt like relief cut into me. I knew I’d been unfair. I had, in every possible way, shoved her down and shoved myself toward the one person I shouldn’t have. I knew it, and still, I respected the distance she wanted, because what else could I do? I didn’t deserve anything more. I didn't even want anything more I caught glimpses of Monica and Damian sometimes in the library or walking to cl

ZOEYI’ve always thought reinvention meant making noise. Flashy clothes, loud entrances, showing the world who I wanted them to see me as. But lately, I’ve learned that silence can be just as loud. The quiet kind that eats at people, makes them wonder what’s really going on behind your eyes. That’s how I’ve been moving through these halls lately—no theatrics, no stunts, no clout chasing. Just clean lines, a face that looks like it’s got everything together again. People think I’m untouchable again. Maybe I am. Maybe not.Academics first. Every page I read, every note I take, it’s like I’m trying to build a new version of myself out of sheer will. Appearances second. Hair done just so, clothes neat enough to impress, perfume light but noticeable, nails subtle. Control—always control. Every interaction is calculated. Every smile measured. The problem is, the control doesn’t stretch far enough inside. Inside, I’m brittle.I saw Monica the other day. Laughing with Damian, hair falling ov

GABRIELI hear it before I see it, because that’s how things work here, news runs ahead of faces, words sprint faster than truth, and by the time I turn the corner it’s already too late to pretend I don’t know. “Did you see Damian’s post?” someone says behind me, laughing like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like it isn’t a blade sliding under my ribs. “He finally locked her down. Again.” another voice adds, and I keep walking, my steps even, my jaw tight, my hands shoved deep into my pockets so no one notices the way my fingers are shaking.I tell myself I’m fine. I actually say it in my head, like if I repeat it enough it’ll become real. I’m fine. She’s happy. That’s good. That’s what I wanted. Except the word wanted sits wrong now, like it belongs to a version of me that didn’t hesitate, that didn’t freeze every time it mattered, that didn’t wait for the right moment until there were none left.I make it to the locker room before I see the proof of how close they were now. S

GABRIEL She tastes like rebellion and mint-flavored courage. It's insane. This woman is insane. I expected her to take a run for the hills after the insane move I just pulled. I couldn't help it. I felt attracted to her in a way I don't fully understand yet. My therapist words echo in my head; "Some people tend to use sexual dopamine to escape the hurt of their problems. Are you sure that's not what Zoey is for you?" It is. It always is and I knew already but wouldn't fess up to it. When our mums interrupted earlier I felt so relieved. I wanted her to get out. Literally but she didn't. She stayed. She wants this too even if it's messed up. Why does sex have to have so much control over a person's rightful thinking? Why did she keep rubbing her thighs together like that? Why is her breathing hitched? Why can I smell the pheromones so thick in the air it's almost suffocating. Why am I talking about Damian and Monica and all I can think about is having her on all fours on the be