Sugar sugar baby

[73] Cutting ties

I didn't text Vanessa back. I couldn't. There was nothing left to say, and whatever game she was trying to play, I wasn't going to be a part of it anymore. So I ignored the messages, figuring that would be the end of it.

But the next morning, as I was sitting at the kitchen table with my cup of coffee, staring out the window at the quiet suburban street, there was a knock on the door. I sighed, already having a sinking feeling about who it might be. Please don't be her.

When I opened the door, there she was.

Vanessa, standing there in front of my parents' house, looking as if she hadn't slept in days. Her long black hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—looked softer somehow, like there was actual worry behind them. She wasn't wearing her usual designer clothes; instead, she had on a simple black sweater and jeans, a far cry from the polished, powerful image she usually projected.

"Tristan," she said, her voice softer than I expected. "Can we talk?"

I kept my face neutral, resisting the urge to let her see how much her presence was rattling me. "Where's your boyfriend?"

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "We broke up a few days ago."

I raised an eyebrow, the sarcasm slipping out before I could stop it. "Wow, that's fast. You sure know how to pick 'em."

She frowned, clearly not in the mood for my snark. "Tristan, I'm serious. I came here to talk to you. Just you."

I stared at her for a long moment, debating whether to slam the door in her face or hear her out. Against my better judgment, I stepped aside, letting her in. "Alright, fine. Let's go somewhere."

She gave me a small nod, her expression still worried, and we ended up driving down to Long Beach. The entire ride was filled with awkward silence, the only sound being the low hum of the car engine and the occasional passing vehicle. She kept glancing at me from the corner of her eye, like she was trying to figure out how to start the conversation, but I didn't give her anything to work with.

We parked by the beach, the waves crashing softly in the distance as we walked along the shoreline. There weren't many people around—just a few joggers and the odd couple strolling hand-in-hand. It was the perfect setting for a conversation that I wasn't sure I wanted to have.

Finally, Vanessa broke the silence.

"I've been thinking," she started, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. "About everything. About us. And... I want to start over."

I stopped walking, turning to face her, my arms crossed over my chest. "Start over? Vanessa, we're done. I told you that."

She took a deep breath, her eyes pleading. "I know you said that, but... I've had time to think. I realize I made mistakes—big ones. But I'm willing to work on it. I don't want to lose you."

I stared at her, the words swirling around in my head. Was this real? Or was it just another one of her games? I wasn't sure anymore. I had spent so long doubting myself, second-guessing every decision, every feeling, because of her manipulation. Now that I had some distance, it was harder to fall back into that trap.

I shook my head slowly. "It's too late for that. You can't just hit reset every time things don't go your way."

She blinked, her expression flickering with hurt. "I'm not trying to hit reset, Tristan. I'm trying to fix things."

"You can't fix what's broken," I said flatly, feeling the anger simmering just below the surface. "You don't get it, do you? It's over. Whatever we had, whatever this was—it's done."

Vanessa's face tightened, but she kept her voice calm, trying to appeal to my sense of reason. "I know you've been talking to my ex. I know what he's been telling you, Tristan, but you can't trust him. He's a liar. He just wants money, and he'll say anything to slander me. You have to know that."

I clenched my jaw, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Of course, you'd say that. You always have someone to blame, don't you? It's never you, is it?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her tone soft, like she was trying to soothe me. "I'm not blaming anyone. I'm just telling you the truth. He's lying to you. He wants to manipulate you to turn you against me."

I shook my head, the anger building. "You think I'm that stupid? You think I haven't seen through this by now? I was stupid before, but I'm not anymore."

She looked genuinely hurt by my words, but I wasn't buying it. Not this time.

"Do you remember that time with Lorenzo?" I asked, my voice low but filled with the accusation I'd been holding onto. "That night at the bar when he took a picture of me with that girl? You blew up on me, acted like I cheated on you. But I've been thinking, Vanessa. I've been thinking about how that was all just... too convenient. How everything played right into your hands."

Her expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something she was trying to hide. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head. "Bullshit. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You set that whole thing up, didn't you? That wasn't about me being disloyal—that was about you testing me, trying to make me obedient, trying to control me. And then acting like I was the one who messed up. You played me."

She stood there in silence for a moment, her eyes locked on mine, but her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her face softened, and she put on that same look—the one that made her seem vulnerable, hurt.

"You're wrong," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I never did that. I loved you. I still love you. I would never—"

"Save it," I snapped, cutting her off. "You could win an Oscar with that acting."

Her face fell, and for a brief moment, I almost believed her. Almost. But then I remembered everything—the manipulation, the lies, the way she had twisted things to keep me under her thumb. This was her game, and I wasn't playing anymore.

Vanessa took a step closer, her voice still soft but now tinged with desperation. "Tristan, I don't know what you've been told, but it's not true. I've never manipulated you. I don't know why you're saying these things."

I clenched my fists, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to believe her—I wanted to believe that this was all just a misunderstanding, that the Vanessa standing in front of me was the real Vanessa. But deep down, I knew better. I had seen the pattern too many times.

I took a deep breath, letting the tension release as I stepped back from her. "It's over. I'm done."

Her eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw the mask slip. There was no more vulnerability, no more pleading. Her expression turned cold, and her voice dropped to a tone I hadn't heard before—icy and dangerous.

"Don't you dare leave me behind," she said, her words like a command.

A chill ran down my spine. For a moment, I hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a vice. But then I forced myself to take a step back, and another. I swallowed hard, refusing to give in to the fear that was creeping up my throat.

Without saying another word, I turned and walked away, the sound of the crashing waves behind me fading as I left her standing there on the beach. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing, but I didn't look back. I couldn't.

For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

Q: Would you cut ties with Vanessa or no?