Twisted love

The fallout

Flashback 

(Katherine's POV)

chapter four

It had been weeks since that night, but the memory of it was still fresh, vivid in my mind like it had just happened yesterday. I could still feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the way his lips had traced soft patterns across my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. We'd shared something that night—something that felt real, unbreakable. Something that made me believe that, despite the odds, despite the whispers, we could be together.

I thought I had fallen in love with him that night.

Oliver had always been more than just a crush. He was my first everything—the first man I'd ever truly wanted, the first person who made me feel like I was more than just a silly, naive girl. With him, I felt seen, understood. I wasn't just Katherine the girl on the brink of adulthood. I was Katherine, the woman who could have him. And the thought of that, the thought of being with him despite the age difference, despite what people would say, was exhilarating.

After that night, I felt invincible. Oliver and I kept things quiet, careful to avoid the scrutiny of others. At 21, he had his own life, his own responsibilities, and here I was, a girl still navigating the complexities of being 16 and on the edge of turning 17. But none of that mattered to me. The connection we shared, the way he made me feel, it was worth the risk. I was willing to risk everything to be with him.

For the next few weeks, we were in our own little world. The stolen kisses when no one was looking, the late-night phone calls where we'd talk for hours about everything and nothing, the moments of quiet intimacy when it was just the two of us, hidden away from the rest of the world. It was perfect—too perfect, maybe.

I had convinced myself that we could make it work. That whatever this was between us was strong enough to withstand anything. And in those moments when he held me, when he whispered my name in the dark, I believed it.

But life has a way of ripping apart the things you hold most dear when you least expect it.

It all started with a message. A notification that popped up on my phone one afternoon while I was sitting in my bedroom, staring out the window, daydreaming about the next time I'd see Oliver. I didn't think much of it at first. It was from an unknown number. Curious, I opened it.

And my world came crashing down.

The video played out on my screen in horrifying detail. It was me. It was us. That night. The night that had felt like the beginning of something beautiful now twisted into something ugly, something shameful. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. How was this possible? How did someone have this? And worse—who had sent it?

I stared at the phone, my hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped it. My stomach churned with a sickening mix of anger and fear. I felt exposed, violated. Everything I thought had been private, sacred, had been turned into a spectacle. And the one person I had trusted more than anyone, the one person who had been there with me in that moment, was Oliver.

It had to be him. There was no one else.

The betrayal cut through me like a knife, sharp and deep. How could he do this to me? How could he take something so intimate and turn it into something so cheap, so public? The tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I couldn't cry. I was too angry to cry.

I jumped up, grabbing my keys, barely aware of my movements as I rushed out of my house and into my car. My mind was racing, my thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and fury. There was only one thing I knew for certain.