LAST FOREVER( Complete ✅️)

CHAPTER 23 : I STILL CARE

The school cafeteria buzzed with the usual midday chaos as I sat with Sasha, Tamara, and Kayla, chatting about the upcoming weekend plans. Lunchtime was our sanctuary - a brief escape from the whirlwind of class drama and academic pressure.

Just as we were diving into the latest gossip about who was dating whom, Felicia, one of my friends, came charging towards us. Excitement radiated from her as she practically tackled me with a hug. "Sierra, you won't believe what I heard!"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Felicia's animated demeanor. "What's going on?"

Felicia beamed, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Guess who's got a VIP invitation to Sierra's boxing match? We do!"

I nearly choked on my sandwich, blinking in disbelief. "Wait, what? How did you-"

Before I could finish my question, Tristan swaggered onto the scene with his entourage of friends. His charismatic grin widened as he approached, clearly reveling in the attention. "Hey, Sierra! Just wanted to let you know, I took the liberty of inviting all your friends to your boxing match as special guests."

My jaw dropped. Tristan, my supposed boyfriend, had just made a grand gesture without consulting me. Panic and irritation surged within me, but I plastered on a fake smile, not wanting to create a scene. The boy was crazy ,I wanted to punch him in the face...the idiot!

"Wow, Tristan, that's so thoughtful of you," I replied, sarcasm carefully concealed beneath the polite tone.

He leaned in, kissing both my cheeks. "Anything for my girl. I thought it would be nice for your friends to witness your triumph in the ring."

As Tristan sauntered away, his friends exchanged approving nods, and my friends were buzzing with excitement. I, on the other hand, was left dumbfounded by the audacity of his move. This wasn't just about being a supportive boyfriend; it was about controlling the narrative, dictating my life without my consent.

Felicia nudged me, clearly oblivious to my internal turmoil. "Sierra, your boyfriend is seriously amazing! I can't believe we get to be VIPs at your match."

"Yeah, Sierra, Tristan is a keeper," Sasha chimed in, her eyes gleaming with approval.

"Yeah...he is just great"I forced another smile, grappling with the conflicting emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Tristan's grand gesture had just added another layer of complexity to the already intricate web of teenage drama.

The lunch bell rang, signaling the end of our break, and I excused myself, claiming the need to prepare for the afternoon classes. As I walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling of being puppeteered in my own life.

Tristan had not only invited my friends without consulting me but had also stolen the spotlight from my achievement. The boxing match was supposed to be about my dedication and hard work, not a theatrical display orchestrated by someone else.

As I navigated through the bustling hallways, the weight of Tristan's actions lingered, leaving me torn between maintaining appearances and asserting control over my own narrative. I avoided him for the rest of the day as I made my way to the gym.

The gym buzzed with the rhythmic thuds of gloves meeting punching bags, and I dove into the training session with Coach, ready to push my limits. She wasn't kidding about the intensity today, introducing me to a set of new techniques that left my muscles burning and my determination ignited.

1. The Phantom Jab
Coach emphasized speed and precision, teaching me to unleash quick, elusive jabs that left opponents disoriented.

2. The Hurricane Hook
A powerful hook designed to create a whirlwind effect. Coach insisted on perfecting the rotation, ensuring maximum impact.

3. The Shadow Uppercut:
This move focused on slipping past an opponent's defense and delivering a devastating uppercut. Coach stressed the importance of agility and timing.

4. The Eagle's Wing Defense:
A defensive maneuver resembling an eagle spreading its wings. Coach stressed the need to maintain a strong guard while swiftly countering.

5.The Avalanche Body Shot:
A technique aimed at breaking down an opponent's defense by targeting the body. Coach emphasized the importance of varying my attack strategy.

As the training session concluded, my muscles pulsed with fatigue, a testament to the grueling workout. I longed for a moment of respite, but as I stepped outside, Haden stood there, an unexpected presence in the fading daylight.

"Are you stalking me Haden?" I quipped, rolling my eyes to conceal the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

Haden chuckled, a sound that felt strangely comforting. "Not stalking, just happened to be in the neighborhood. Come with me; I want to show you something. It'll be quick, I promise."

I hesitated, glancing at my tired reflection in the gym's glass doors. Against my better judgment, I nodded, deciding to entertain whatever Haden had in mind.

He led me to the quiet solitude of the graveyard. Confused, I raised an eyebrow. "What are we doing here?"

Haden's gaze softened as he gestured toward a modest gravestone. "This is my mom's grave."

I studied the worn inscription, realizing this was a side of Haden he rarely shared. "Your mom?"

"Yeah," Haden began, his voice carrying the weight of buried memories. "She died when I was young, overdosed on drugs. Left me with my little brother to take care of."

Silence settled over us as I absorbed the revelation. The pain etched on Haden's face hinted at a story of resilience and loss.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked, curious and guarded.

Haden sighed, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion. "Because, Sierra, there are things I should've told you but never had the courage to. I still care, and you deserve to know."

"Haden..." I started a little speechless before he cut in

"You don't have to say anything Sierra,it's okay. I just wanted you to know that I still care." He said looking at me.

The gravity of his words hung in the air, mingling with the quiet stillness of the graveyard. As we stood there, surrounded by memories and the weight of untold stories, I couldn't deny the complexity of Haden's past, a past that had woven itself into the fabric of his present.