Broken Records | Tayley

Chapter 6: Unraveled Threads

Hayley's POV

The days after covering up the tattoos felt like a strange mix of freedom and loss. I no longer felt the constant sting of seeing Chad's initials on my skin, but the blank squares also reminded me of everything I had hoped for, everything that had come undone.

I spent more time alone in my small Nashville home, a cozy house nestled in a quiet neighborhood where the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of passing cars. It was a stark contrast to the life I had built with Chad in LA, but it was also what I needed—a space to breathe, to be myself again.

My mom had offered to let me stay with her, and so had some friends, but I needed to prove to myself that I could stand on my own two feet. I needed to know that I could rebuild my life without leaning on anyone too heavily.

I filled my days with writing and music, pouring everything I couldn't say out loud into the lyrics and melodies that slowly took shape. Alf, my ever-loyal companion, was always by my side, a constant reminder that unconditional love still existed in the world, even if it was from a dog.

But no matter how much I tried to focus on the future, the past had a way of creeping back in. And that's exactly what happened when Chad reached out.

It started with a text—simple, almost casual:

Chad: Hey, can we talk? I miss you.

I stared at the message, my heart pounding in my chest. It had been months since we last spoke, months since I walked away from everything we had built together. I thought I was done with him, done with the hurt, but seeing his name on my screen brought it all flooding back—the pain, the betrayal, the twisted hope that maybe, somehow, things could have been different.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

A few days later, he called. I let it go to voicemail, not ready to hear his voice, not ready to open that wound again. But he didn't give up. He kept calling, kept texting, each message more insistent than the last.

Chad: Hayley, please. I just want to talk.

Chad: I made a mistake. I'm sorry.

Chad: We can fix this. I love you.

Love. The word felt hollow now, devoid of the meaning it once held. It was just a tool he used, a way to reel me back in whenever I started to drift away. And for so long, I had let him.

But not anymore.

After the fifth missed call, I finally blocked his number. It was a small act, but it felt like a victory, a way to reclaim my power, my peace. I didn't owe him anything—not my forgiveness, not my time, and certainly not my heart.

But as much as I wanted to put it all behind me, I couldn't shake the memories that surfaced, the questions that lingered in my mind. Had any of it been real? Had I ever truly loved him, or was it all just a twisted game that I had been too blind to see?