บททั้งหมดของ My Bestfriend's Boy: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

AvaThree months into our relationship, I learned that Ethan Blake had a voice that could undo me.It wasn't something I noticed at first. In class, in the cafeteria, even on our first few dates, he spoke the way most people did—normal volume, normal tone, nothing that would make you stop and listen. But alone, when it was just the two of us, his voice changed.It dropped lower. Slower. Like he was savoring every word."Come here," he said one night, his back against the headboard of his bed, his hand reaching for mine.We were in his room—his aunt was out of town for the weekend, and we'd claimed the house as our own. The lights were dim, the windows open, the summer air thick and warm. I'd been here a dozen times before, but never like this. Never with the tension stretched so tight between us that I could feel it humming in my skin.I took his hand, and he pulled me onto the bed beside him. His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, tilting my face toward his."You're nervous," he obs

AvaThe first real fight happened in late July.It started over something stupid—I can't even remember what anymore. Something about plans, about canceled dinner, about the way he'd been distant all week. But stupid fights are never really about the thing they're about. They're about everything underneath."You're pulling away," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. We were in his car, parked outside my house, the engine still running. "You've been pulling away for weeks, and I don't know why.""I'm not pulling away.""Then what are you doing?"He ran a hand through his hair—his tell, the gesture he made when he was stressed or upset. "I'm trying to figure things out, okay? I'm leaving in a month, and I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be with you and leave you at the same time.""Then don't leave.""Ava—""I know," I said, cutting him off. "I know you have to go. I know it's not your fault. But I need you to be here now. Really here. Not halfway."He was quiet for a

MiaI watched her fall apart, and I was the reason.That's the thing about guilt—it doesn't hit you all at once. It creeps in, slowly, like water seeping through cracks in a dam. At first, you can ignore it. Patch it up. Tell yourself it's nothing.But eventually, the cracks get bigger and farther till the dam breaks.The night Ava came to my house, her eyes red, her voice shaking, asking me if I knew why Ethan had been so distant—that was the night the cracks became canyons."I don't know," I lied. "Maybe he's just stressed about school."She nodded, accepting my lie because she trusted me. Because she had no reason not to.I went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling for hours. My phone buzzed—Ethan, asking if I was awake. I didn't answer. For the first time, I didn't want to talk to him.This is wrong, I thought. This is so, so wrong.But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Because stopping meant admitting what I'd done. And admitting what I'd done meant losing everything.---Th

The Breaking Point—Mia's Letter Mia I wrote the letter in one sitting, my hand cramping around the pen, tears blurring the words. I'd tried to talk to her in person a dozen times. Each time, she walked past me like I didn't exist. Each time, the silence was worse than any scream. So I wrote. Dear Ava, I'm not writing this because I expect you to forgive me. I'm writing it because you deserve the truth. The whole truth, not the scraps I've been feeding you for months. I've been jealous of you for years. There. I said it. The thing I've been too ashamed to admit, even to myself. I've been jealous of your grades, your kindness, the way people gravitate toward you without you even trying. I've been jealous of your parents, who actually show up. I've been jealous of your ability to be happy without tearing other people down. And when Ethan chose you—when he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world—something in me broke. I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to be seen. An

Mia The summer after graduation was the loneliest and most important season of my life. I had to do something to keep my mind together. I worked at a local bookstore, shelving novels I used to read with Ava, trying not to think about the spaces she used to fill. The store was small and dusty, the kind of place where time moved slowly, and I liked that. I liked the quiet. I liked the way the smell of old paper made me feel like I was somewhere else. My therapist, Dr. Chen, had given me a journal. “Write down three things every day,” she said. “Things you’re grateful for. Things you’re learning. Things you want to remember.” At first, I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was a blank wall, painted over with shame and regret. But slowly, day after day, the words started to come to mind. June 15: I’m grateful for the woman who comes into the bookstore every Tuesday and buys a mystery novel. She always smiles at me and that warms my heart. She doesn’t know what I did. June 22: I’m le