[UPDATED WEEKLY]
"You may be his world, but you're the only thing that ever felt like home to me."
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Some people never get second chances. Lilah never thought she'd get one with her brother's best f...
If you are reading the rewritten version after already reading the previous version, I want to give a heads up that I combined this chapter with the following one (chapter 7 and 8 in the original writing). This will explain why the chapters go from 6 •REWRITTEN• straight to 9. I apologize for any confusion. Everything will be sorted shortly though and there shouldn't be any more confusion with the storyline or chapters then 😊 Thank you for reading and sticking through with me! Please favorite if you are enjoying this story!
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Four years.
That's how long it had been since I last saw Jackson in person. Four years of forcing myself to forget about him, of pushing away every unanswered question that had burned in the back of my mind. I told myself that he wasn't worth dwelling on, that he had made his choice when he left me behind without a word.
For a while, I actually believed it.
The longest I went without thinking about him was seven months, and even then, the only reason his name resurfaced in my mind was because Kayce had called me, frustrated about some argument they had. That night, I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Jackson ever thought about me too. Wondering if I still existed to him in any way.
And then, forty-eight hours ago, I saw him again.
The tightness in my throat along with the small headache now makes it feel like I'm starting all over.
I never thought I'd run into him at that party. I was hours away from home, at a specific college party at a specific time, yet he was somehow there too. Out of all the people I expected to see, he was the last. And yet, there he was, standing in front of me, looking at me like I was just some random girl who had gotten in his way. Like I meant nothing.
I don't know what I expected. Maybe I had some naïve hope that if I ever saw him again, he'd be the one in shock. That his mouth would part in disbelief as he said my name, as if he couldn't believe it was really me. That a goofy smile would spread across his face before he pulled me into a hug, happy to see me again.
Majority of the time I did think about seeing him again, I imagined pushing him away. Telling him exactly how much he had hurt me. Watching the confusion and regret flicker across his face as I cut him off, telling him I didn't even want to hear his excuses. That it was too late. That I was done.
But neither of those things happened.
Instead, he just stood there. And when he finally did recognize me, there was no flicker of warmth. No hint of nostalgia—not even a hint of regret. Nothing but indifference. And that's what hurt the most.
I spent two days telling myself it didn't matter, that I shouldn't care. That Jackson had made his choice a long time ago, and I wasn't going to waste another second of my life wondering why. But the anger still lingers, simmering beneath the surface.
