Drawn To You (GirlxGirl)

Part 29

Allie's P.O.V

Casey's car idled outside the house, but I just sat there, staring up at it. This was my house—the place I'd lived for almost ten years. The place where I'd spent countless days alone just waiting for Mark to come home.

A part of me knew I should be heartbroken about leaving it behind, but instead, as I looked up at the white walls and cold windows, I felt... ready. Hopeful, even.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in and help you?" Casey asked from the driver's seat. Her voice was gentle, but I could tell she was a little worried about me.

I shook my head, offering her a small smile. "It's okay. I don't know if Mark's home, and I don't want you to get caught in the middle of anything if he is."

Casey nodded, though she still looked unsure. "Alright. But call me if you need anything. I'll be right here."

"I will," I promised, unbuckling my seatbelt. I took a deep breath, the weight of what I was about to do settling in my chest. But as heavy as it was, it didn't feel suffocating. Not anymore. It felt like I was finally stepping into something new—something that might actually make me happy.

I opened the car door and stepped out, the cool air hitting my face as I looked up at the house again. This was it. No turning back now.

With one last glance at Casey, who gave me a reassuring smile, I squared my shoulders and started toward the front door. Each step felt like a small victory, like I was taking back a part of myself I'd lost somewhere along the way.

The house was silent as I opened the door, the familiar scent of the place hitting me immediately. For a second, a wave of nostalgia rushed over me—the good moments, the early days when Mark and I were still happy. But those memories felt distant, like they belonged to another life. I wasn't that person anymore.

Relief washed over me as I stepped further inside and didn't hear Mark. Maybe he wasn't home after all. Maybe I could just pack up my things and leave without any drama.

But as I moved into the hallway, Mark appeared in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked awful—his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, and the smell of stale alcohol hanging around him.

"Here to apologise?" he asked sarcastically, his lips curling into a smirk that made my stomach turn.

I couldn't believe it. After everything, he still thought I was the one who should be apologising?

"No," I said, my voice calm but firm. "I'm here to pack up my things."

His smirk faltered, but only for a second.

"Oh, come on, Allie. You weren't serious about the whole breaking-up thing, were you?" He sounded almost amused, like the idea was ridiculous.

I stared at him, feeling a new wave of anger bubbling up inside me. "I was deadly serious," I said, meeting his eyes. For the first time in a long time, I felt no fear, no doubt. Just certainty.

I turned on my heel and started up the stairs.

I heard him follow behind me, his heavy steps dragging on the carpet, but I didn't stop. I went straight to the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase from the wardrobe, and began throwing my clothes inside.

"Where are you going to stay, huh?" Mark asked, standing in the doorway, watching me. "Your parents don't have the room. And you and Jessie hardly know each other." He sounded smug, like he thought he still had some control over me. The mention of Jessie's name sent a flurry through my gut.

"Casey's place," I answered, not even bothering to look at him as I zipped up my suitcase. I was done playing his games.

He scoffed. "Casey's place. Right. You really think that's going to work?"

I didn't answer. There was no point in arguing with him.

I grabbed the suitcase and started for the stairs again, but just as I reached the top step, Mark's voice stopped me.

"Is there another man?" he asked. His tone was different this time, quieter, more accusing.

I froze for a second, my heart picking up speed. I could feel his eyes on my back, waiting for me to answer.

"No," I said, my voice steady, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

I continued down the stairs, feeling his gaze burning into me.

In my head, the truth felt tangled. I wasn't lying—there wasn't another man. But there was Jessie. And even though it was new, even though it was confusing for me, I knew deep down that Jessie had been a part of why I'd finally found the strength to leave.

Not because she'd pushed me, and not because I was leaving Mark to be with her, but because she'd made me see that I deserved more.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbing the coffee machine from the counter—my last item. I couldn't leave without it. It had seen me through more bad days than I cared to count. It was my one reliable friend in this house, the one thing that had kept me going.

Mark appeared behind me, still trying to make sense of it all. "I don't believe you," he muttered. "There has to be another guy. That's the only explanation."

I let out a short, bitter laugh, turning to face him.

"Oh yeah, Mark, never mind the fact that you've made me lose who I am," I said, my voice rising. "Everything always had to be on your terms, right down to the fucking colours on the walls." I gestured to the bland walls around us—god I hated these walls.

He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to come up with a retort, but nothing came out. For once, he had nothing to say.

I walked past him, my suitcase in one hand, my coffee machine in the other. As I reached the front door, his voice stopped me one last time.

"You'll regret this, Allie," he said, his tone dark and final, like he was trying to make me doubt myself.

I paused at the door but didn't turn around. "No," I said, my voice calm. "The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner."

And with that, I stepped out of the house—the place that had never felt like home—and didn't look back once.