Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Night My Best-Friend Ruined Me: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Aria's povThe flight back to Seattle was the quietest six hours of my life.Not peaceful. Not exactly. Just quiet in that strange, floating way that makes your own thoughts sound louder than the engine.Leo was stretched across two seats beside me, one small arm thrown over his toy airplane like he was afraid someone might steal it in his sleep. His face was soft and relaxed, completely unguarded. Every so often, he made a tiny sound in his sleep, the kind that makes your chest ache for no reason at all.I looked at him, then out the window, then back at him again.The little airplane Adrian had bought him at the airport rested in his hand like a last-minute peace offering. Leo had lit up when he got it. That smile had been genuine, bright, impossible to miss.And that was the problem.It had made me smile too.Which meant now I had to sit with the complicated feeling that followed.I didn’t read. I didn’t work. I didn’t even put on music.I just stared at the clouds and let my thoug

Aria’s POVSettling back into the Seattle apartment was harder than I expected.I had thought coming home would feel clean. Easy, even. Like breathing again after holding my lungs shut for too long.Instead, the place felt wrong in ways I could not explain at first.Too quiet.Too small.Too exposed.The walls that had once felt safe now felt like they were leaning in on me. The silence was not comforting anymore. It was loud. It made every thought echo. Every little sound had teeth. A floorboard creak. A pipe knocking. The wind brushing against the windows. All of it made me jump before I could stop myself.I hated that.I hated how New York had followed me home in my head.That morning, I took Leo back to school.He was thrilled.That part should have made me feel better. It should have settled something in me. Instead, I watched him run off to his friends with his little backpack bouncing on his shoulders, laughing like the world had never tried to hurt us at all, and my chest tigh

Aria’s POVThe Seattle clinic was a whirlwind of controlled chaos.The first vaccine rollout had been complicated, to say the least, and now we were dealing with the backlog that came after it. The day had already been long and draining. I spent most of it moving from one problem to the next, working through insurance delays, calming frightened parents, and explaining medical details in a way that would not overwhelm people who were already anxious.My head ached from the constant strain, and my voice was starting to go rough from repeating the same explanations over and over.I was in the middle of a consultation with a young mother who was visibly worried about the vaccine for her infant when I heard a commotion in the lobby.At first it was just a low murmur.Then came sharper voices.Agitated voices.My patient stiffened immediately and pulled her baby closer to her chest.“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, already frowning.This was not normal for the clinic.I stepped out of the

Aria’s POVThe small leather-bound journal sat on my desk like it had its own pulse.A quiet little thing. Innocent-looking. Easy to mistake for nothing at all.That was the worst part.Adrian had set it down with a hand that had been shaking just slightly, and even now he stood across from me like he was waiting for a verdict. He looked tired in a way that went deeper than sleep. Not the polished kind of tired rich men wore when they were trying to seem burdened. Real tired. The kind that sits in your bones.I stared at the journal and did not touch it.Every instinct in my body said no.No, because I already knew what it would drag up.No, because I had spent years trying not to drown in that particular version of my life.No, because I was so done with Edmund’s darkness that I could taste it still, metallic and bitter at the back of my throat.But curiosity is a nasty thing. It does not leave politely. It sits there and scratches until you give in.The original diary script.The un

Aria’s POVThe kitchen table, which was usually covered in breakfast plates, school forms, and Leo’s scattered homework, looked like a crime scene.The forged diary pages were spread across it under the harsh yellow light from the ceiling. Adrian had brought them to me like a confession and a weapon at the same time, and now they sat there in front of me impossible to ignore.I stared at the pages for a long time before I touched them again.Every line felt like a fresh cut.Every sentence had been written to poison me.I read through the fake entries one by one, my own voice twisted into something cold and monstrous. The words were familiar in the worst possible way. The rhythms were mine. The phrasing was mine. Even the little turns of thought, the quiet pauses, the internal logic of it all, had been copied with terrifying care.It was not just a forgery.It was a mirror made by someone who wanted to break me with my own reflection.My stomach turned.I had already felt sick in Adri