The Keys to freedom

Heartbreak club

That party had reminded Oz why she was no longer allowed behind those velvet ropes, specifically one of the last times she crossed it—the night she ended things with Pyke. That was also the night she made herself a quiet promise: never again. Never again would she give her heart away to another.

Last year

The party was held at the Hastings residence. Pyke almost never hosted gatherings at his house; his father wouldn't tolerate such shenanigans. But this night had an exception. For once, the house was empty of its usual authority. His father was out of town on a business trip, and with the fortress momentarily unguarded, Pyke seized the opportunity. The usually silent and sterile mansion, pulsed with music, laughter, and the clink of expensive liquor.

Oz had been distant with Pyke for the past couple of weeks, and he couldn't figure out why. She wasn't her usual self—less bubbly, less sarcastic. Instead, she'd become more withdrawn, keeping her distance in a way that felt deliberate. He was confused and didn't know what had changed or what he had done. She had always been independent, but this felt different. Still, when she showed up at the party, he was thrilled, thinking it was a sign of reconciliation.

The yard was glowing with twinkling lights, the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the manicured gardens. Inside, the marble floors glistened with crystal chandeliers, and the walls lined with priceless art. When she spotted Pyke across the room, his face lit up with a hopeful smile, she felt a twitch of guilt but steeled herself for what needed to be done.

"Hey, didn't think you would show," he said with surprise and relief in his voice as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

She gave him a small, strained smile. "I'm not staying," she said softly,"I just need to talk to you for a moment."

His smile faltered, concern drawing lines on his forehead. "Sure, let's find somewhere quiet," he says taking her hand and guiding her through the crowd. They weaved past clusters of people laughing and dancing as he led her to a secluded balcony, where the city lights twinkled like distant stars. The sounds of the party faded into the background, replaced by a soft hum of traffic and rustling leaves. Pyke reached for her arm, his touch warm and familiar. She took a deep breath, pulling away gently. His face fell, and he braced himself for what he sensed was coming.

"I want to break up," she said quickly, getting straight to the point like ripping off a bandage. She didn't want to draw it out—she just wanted it done.

His shoulders sank as he stared at her, confusion flickering in his eyes. A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, like he was hoping she was joking. "What?"

She stared at him with glassy eyes holding his gaze. He couldn't understand what she was saying, he didn't want to believe it.

"Why?"

"There are a lot of reasons," she said softly, "but none of them are because I don't love you."

"I need a better explanation than that," he sighed.

"I can't give you one,"

He just stared into her eyes desperately searching for a glimpse of the girl he knew, the one that would never break his heart like this, but she seemed so far away, unreachable, like the warmth and spark he'd always loved was buried deep behind those distant eyes.

"Please don't look at me like that Pyke. You knew this would end eventually," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she tried to stay composed.

His frown deepened. "What?"

"We both knew this wouldn't last, we've just been pretending it could. Our lives are too different. WE are too different."

His frown deepened. "I don't care about any of that, Oz. What does our lives have to do with anything?"

He was right, it had nothing to do with why she was breaking up with him, but she had to lie—she couldn't tell him the truth. This was the best excuse she could come up with, the only way to protect him and herself from the pain of revealing what really happened.

"I can't just keep pretending that I fit into your world, this world. Tonight, at this party, it's just a reminder of how out of place I am, I don't belong,"

He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. "You belong wherever you want to belong, Oz. You're what I want, none of this means anything to me, the party, the drugs, the drinking, it all ends tonight if you say so, you don't have to leave,"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled away from his touch. "Yes, I do."

"What do you want? Anything you want of me, anything you ask. I'll do it."

She shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I already told you; I want to break up."

He stared at her for a long moment, his heart breaking. "I just... don't understand," he whispered, his voice barely heard.

"I know," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry,"

With that, she turned and walked away. He stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreating figure until she was no longer visible. He slowly turned back to the balcony, his hands gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

He was confused. Angry. But more than anything, he was heartbroken—and for the first time in his life, he finally knew what that word really meant.