28. Alex

Chapter twenty-eight

Alex

T he calendar says it’s been four days since Daphne broke up with me, or 345,600 seconds. I’ve felt each and every one of those seconds too.

Somehow, I’ve managed to fill my lungs with air purely for survival during those seconds. Don’t know how, though. Each breath feels like suffocation. Only, instead of dying, I’m forced to become a living corpse.

Unexpectedly, the pounding on my door shatters the silence, jolting me from a chaos of restless sleep. Heart hammering against my ribcage, I stumble out of bed, half hoping, half dreading that it’s Daphne on the other side. The chilled air of the room raises goosebumps on my bare skin as I make my way to the door, the floor cold beneath my feet.

“Please be her,” I mutter to myself, grasping the doorknob with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation. But as I yank the door open, my heart sinks—instead of Daphne’s haunting hazel eyes, it’s Celeste’s artificially enhanced gaze that meets mine. Disappointment curdles in my stomach, sour and heavy.

“Not now, Celeste,” I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. “Just go away.”

The coffin’s threat is always there. It’s always buried beneath my feet, threatening to drag me through the dirt to trap me inside. It’s never completely gone.

Over the years, I’ve pushed the thoughts aside by avoiding the pain. Sitting with emotions isn’t good for me. So, naturally, I’ve coped by indulging in sex and partying until my dick wanted to fall off. On the inside, my self-deprecating thoughts never stop, but on the outside, I’m the cool, popular guy. It’s easier to shove them aside when I’m never alone.

Losing my soulmate has reopened those wounds. It’s like I’ve bandaged the wounds from high school but never fully healed them. Thus, having Daphne and then losing her reopened the skin wound, and now I’m bleeding all over the place.

Celeste doesn’t take the hint after I tell her to leave. Instead, with a huff of indignation, she shoves past me, her expensive perfume invading my space, cloying and unwelcome. The scent alone is enough to make me want to gag, but I swallow back the bile that threatens to rise in my throat .

Celeste leans in, her voice dripping with faux concern. “People are talking, you know. It’s not good for your reputation.” A flicker of annoyance crosses her face. “Or mine.”

I can’t help but smirk. “I’m not worried about my reputation, and yours is just fine.”

Celeste’s expression hardens at my unaffected presentation. “It’s not just about reputation. It’s about us.”

“Us?” I echo, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “There is no us. We broke up and, honestly Celeste, I’m getting tired of repeating it.”

Her eyes narrow. “Is this because you’re too afraid to commit?”

I feel a surge of anger. We’ve been over this again and again. Even Victoria has accepted our breakup at this point. All this time, I hurt Daph by protecting Celeste when I should have been blunt to begin with. “No, it’s because I don’t love you.” There, I said it.

Funny, getting back with Celeste may satisfy the voices enough to at least dull the depression, but I can’t do it. I love Daphne and would rather remain depressed than remain apart from her.

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to shove Celeste back out the door. The very thought of being with her again makes my skin crawl; every fiber of my being screams in rejection.

“Listen to me, Celeste,” I start, low and controlled, my voice barely hiding the tempest raging within. “I don’t care about gossip or appearances. We’re done. Finished. There’s no us to talk about. Leave me alone. I appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years, but it’s over.”

Her expression falters for a moment, but she quickly masks it with a practiced smile, though I can see the fury simmering behind her eyes. She steps closer, too close, her presence an oppressive force that I can no longer tolerate.

“Think about your reputation, Alex,” she hisses, her voice laced with venom. “You don’t want people thinking less of you, do you? Let me make it very clear what I mean. Your s-s-stutter.”

She’s hitting all my triggers, and it’s only pissing me off. How dare she make fun of my stutter like that! “Fu-fuck that,” I spit back, the words slicing through the tension between us. “I’m not going to pretend to love someone I don’t, not e-even for you.”

Celeste’s face contorts into a mask of scorn, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. For a fleeting moment, I feel a pang of guilt for being so harsh. But then I remember how she intentionally triggered my stuttering and made fun of me for it. Just like that, the guilt evaporates.

Her eyes flash, a stormy sea of anger swirling within them. The air between us crackles with tension, heavy and suffocating. Celeste’s lips part as if to speak, but the words seem to falter on her tongue. She stands there, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, the opulence of her fur coat at odds with the vulnerability I see peeking through her mask of fury.

“You can’t be serious!” Her voice is a whip, cracking against the silence of my apartment. “After everything?”

“Especially a-after everything,” I reply, my resolve hardening. The taste of freedom is bittersweet on my tongue, but it’s what I crave—what I need. “I d-don’t love you, Celeste. It’s t-time for you to accept th-that.” I’d rather be a depressed dweeb doing what he loves than a depressed jock doing what he hates.

Something breaks in her gaze, something fragile and unspoken, but then she blinks and it’s gone. “Fine,” she snaps, her eyes glinting with malice. “But you’ll regret this, Alexandru Whitmore. Everyone will see how you’re just a nerdy little stuttering loser.”

Celeste then pivots on her designer heels with a huff, striding towards the door. Each step seems deliberate as if she’s trying to retain some semblance of control. As she reaches for the doorknob, the door swings inward abruptly. Victoria is outside my door, a dark silhouette framed by the hallway light, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression unreadable.

“Talk some sense into him,” Celeste snarls without looking back, brushing past Victoria as though the encounter has cost her all the energy she could muster .

And with that, she storms off, leaving me standing there, feeling raw and exposed. My chest heaves with the effort of keeping myself composed. I lean against the doorframe as I try to shake off the remnants of her toxic presence.

Victoria locks her gaze onto mine, and there’s a glint of something that isn’t quite sympathy but isn’t malice either. “Oh, don’t worry. I will,” she replies, her tone even, betraying nothing of her thoughts.

I let her inside and shut the door behind us. We’re sealed into the stillness of my space, yet my pulse throbs in my ears—a silent reminder of the chaos that just exited and the new storm that has entered.

“Not you t-too,” I mutter, my voice full of weariness.

Surprisingly, she cuts to the chase. “How long have you been in love with Daphne?”

My chest tightens, constricting around a truth I’ve guarded so fiercely. With a deep breath, I let it surface, giving life to the words. “S-since the m-moment I first s-saw her.” It feels like a confession, one that strips away the facade I’ve clung to for far too long.

There’s a pause, heavy with things unsaid, before we both move towards the couch, sinking into the worn cushions together. The proximity is uncomfortable, a forced intimacy that neither of us wants, yet here we are. I can’t help but glance at Victoria, taking in her sharp features softened slightly by the dim light, wondering if she understands the gravity of what I’m about to reveal.

“Daphne and I—” I begin, my throat dry. “We’ve been in a s-secret relationship for the p-past few weeks.” The memories flash through my mind—stolen moments filled with passion and promises, now tainted with the sting of loss. “But she d-d-dumped m-me a few d-days a-ago.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. I can feel Victoria processing the information, her mind undoubtedly racing with implications and accusations. And I’m left here, my defenses crumbling, exposing the raw edges of a pain I can barely comprehend myself.

“Eww, Alex! What the fuck?” Her upper lip curls in disgust.

“W-What do you mean?”

“Not only did you date the poor pathetic scholarship girl, but you got dumped by her?” She gets up and starts pacing. “Okay, okay, I’ve got it. She was your rebound from Celeste. You must have only dated her for like, a week. You were desperate, and Daphne knew you are waaaay out of her league.”

“Vic, no—” I start, before she interrupts me.

“Yes,” she firmly says. “You couldn’t possibly have been happy with her. What you need is a good lay. Either go back to Celeste or…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe I’m offering because you’re my brother and it’s so gross, but I’ll be your wing woman so you can hook you up with someone even hotter than Celeste.”

The thought of sleeping with anyone who isn’t Daphne makes my stomach twist so badly I think I’m going to die. To not have her pussy be the last one my dick touches sounds like the worst sort of hell imaginable.

I’d rather rip my teeth out with plyers. “P-please leave,” I tell my sister. “I ne-need to b-be a-alone.”

Victoria rolls her eyes and takes a few steps backward, out of my doorway, to leave. Just before she leaves, she cocks her head to the side. “I almost forgot. Daphne asked me to look out for you. Why?” Her words are straight to the point. Blunt.

“Know w-what, Vic?” I ask before closing the door in her face. “Don’t w-worry about it.”

I feel bad for cutting her off right now, but I meant it when I said I need some time alone.