Twisted Chances

8. Nia (edited)

I couldn't sleep last night. Not even after hugging Mr. Teddy tight against my chest like a child desperate for comfort.

The events kept replaying in my mind, over and over, like a cruel little film on loop.

I must have hurt Niko badly.

He didn't cry. Of course he didn't. He kept that same stoic face, as if nothing could touch him—but I saw it. I felt it. The way his voice almost broke, the way his eyes shimmered with a pain he tried to swallow down, just so I wouldn't feel awkward.

Maybe if he had cried, if he had let me see him break, maybe then something in me would have shifted. Maybe I would have said yes. Maybe I would have accepted his love instead of running from it.

And maybe that's why he didn't.

Because he knows me too well. Because he protects me, even from the truth of his own heartbreak.

It aches inside me, that thought. That I hurt him. That I've been hurting him for so long without even knowing it.

Years. He has loved me for years.

All those little acts of care, the way he always stood by me, the way he'd appear when I needed him most—it was all love. His love.

I should have noticed. I should have known.

And now, because of me, he is heartbroken. And I feel like the most selfish creature alive.

I tell myself I cannot start a relationship right now. That I'm not ready. That the wrong kind of love can turn men into monsters, and I've already survived one monster.

But Niko isn't Henry. Niko could never be Henry.

Then why... why can't I give him a chance? Why do I hold back?

It's not like Henry is coming back. He's in custody. He's gone. I'm free.

So why can't I move forward? Why can't I let myself be with someone else? With him?

The questions burned holes in my head, and I needed a distraction. I opened Instagram and began scrolling mindlessly, searching for anything to drown out the noise inside me.

But then—Brittany's post.

The first few pictures were harmless enough. A restaurant. A pretty table. Aesthetic little shots of plates and glasses.

And then the last one.

A selfie.

Of Brittany and Niko.

Together.

Smiling.

And the caption: First date in New York... ❤️✨

My heart stopped.

The fuck?

Yesterday—yesterday—he confessed his love to me. He poured his heart out. And now, today, he's on a date? With Brittany, of all people?

My chest exploded with something hot and violent. Anger. Betrayal. Or... no. Not betrayal. Because I hadn't given him anything to betray.

So why did it feel like he had?

Why was my heart clawing at my ribs like this? Why did I feel like I wanted to scream?

I didn't think. I didn't pause. I just moved. Dressing fast, storming out of my room, alarming my parents.

"Where are you going, caterpillar?" Dad asked, confused, since I'd told him earlier not to wake me all day.

"To the library," I lied. My voice was sharp, too quick.