Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I'm sorry." Aoife said, sitting down on my bed, her eyes red from crying. She fidgeted with her hands, clearly uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have said what I did earlier. I just... I get so worried, and I know I let my emotions get the best of me."
I could see the guilt etched on her face, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, then darting away just as quickly. The tension from our argument earlier still clung to the room like a heavy fog.
I shrugged, unsure of what to say. "It's fine," I muttered, my gaze falling to the floor. It wasn't fine, not really, but I didn't have the energy to argue anymore.
"I just..." Aoife sighed, the sound shaky. "I just want you to be okay. I don't want anything bad to happen to you." Her voice wavered, like she was holding something back, trying not to push too hard. But I could hear it. The unsaid words about Connor were hanging in the air between us.
I swallowed hard, bracing myself. "It's okay," I said softly, forcing a small smile that felt more like a grimace. "Really."
She gave me a doubtful look, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I just want you to be happy, so I'll take your word on him." But there was no hiding the hesitation in her voice. She didn't trust Connor—hadn't for a long time—and it showed in every glance, every cautious word. I knew she was trying for my sake, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of what we both knew.
Connor had always been good at pretending, slipping easily into whatever version of himself people wanted to see. To me, he could be sweet, kind, attentive. But Aoife—she'd seen through him before I ever did. And now, after everything, she was still trying to protect me, even though I kept pulling myself back to him.
"I just don't understand why you keep going back," Aoife murmured, her voice quieter, almost resigned. "He's... he's not good for you. He's manipulative. You deserve so much better than someone who messes with your head like that."
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Deep down, I knew she was right, but saying it out loud felt like admitting too much. Instead, I pulled my blanket off and scooted over, letting her climb into bed beside me.
She wrapped her arms around me without hesitation, pulling me close. It was like being a kid again, when we used to share this same bed during sleepovers in each others rooms. Aoife had always been more like a sister than just a cousin. She knew me better than anyone, even when I refused to know myself.
"I love you, you dickhead," she whispered into my hair, her voice soft and warm, the words both teasing and earnest at once.
A small laugh escaped me, the heaviness lifting just a little. "I love you too," I whispered back, my voice barely audible.
For a moment, the world felt right again, even if just for tonight.
