EVELYN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Evelyn's POV

The warm water from the bath surrounded me, the steam rising around me like a shield. It was comforting, soothing, but still, I couldn’t escape the weight inside my chest, the suffocating silence that seemed to press down on me no matter where I went. My body ached, but it wasn’t just physical. It was deep—an ache that had no real end, no real cure. I let the water run over me, feeling it wash away the sweat and tears that had been clinging to my skin for what felt like days.

It's been three days and my voice still wasn't coming out.
I had taken my medication earlier, the pills settling uneasily in my stomach, but I didn’t care. I needed them. I needed something to take away the knot of anxiety that had lodged itself inside me.

After drying off, I slipped into my oversized sweatshirt and leggings, pulling my damp hair into a messy bun. I walked slowly back to my bed, the soft, cool sheets inviting me to sink back into them, but I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t stop moving. My fingers fidgeted, tracing meaningless patterns across the blanket as I stared at nothing, my thoughts swirling around me in a chaotic mess.

Boredom crept in like a shadow. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, the screen lighting up as I unlocked it, my fingers scrolling mindlessly through the feed.

That’s when I saw it.

The party. The one that had been at my house. The one I had tried to forget. The pictures were bright, happy, the people laughing and dancing. The headline at the top of the page made my heart stop for a moment: Exclusive Highlights from the Party at the James Residence.

I clicked the link, not sure why, but I did. I didn’t want to look, didn’t want to relive any of it. But my eyes were drawn to the image at the top—Langston’s face, smiling. His dark eyes staring back at me, but it wasn’t the same smile he had given me. No, this smile was empty, cold. It made my blood boil, rage bubbling up from deep inside me.

I had been so stupid. So blind. He had used me, taken everything from me, and I had let him. The tears started to fall again, rolling down my cheeks before I could stop them. I could feel my body trembling, the overwhelming sense of being utterly worthless crashing into me. I hated myself for what had happened. I hated myself for letting it happen.

I needed to get out.

I didn’t care where I went, just away. I needed to breathe, to clear my head. I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on over my hoodie, and left the house. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I didn’t have to. I was invisible. I was a ghost, walking through my own life like it wasn’t mine anymore.

The park wasn’t far, just a few blocks down. I walked slowly, the cool evening air doing nothing to help clear the haze in my mind. The silence around me was almost too much to bear, but somehow, it was also a relief. There was no one here. No questions. No pity. Just the sound of my footsteps and the soft rustle of leaves in the trees.

I found a bench by the pond, the water reflecting the fading light of the evening sky. I sat, pulling my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as if that might somehow protect me from the chaos inside me.

And then I heard it. Footsteps. Slow, steady.

I looked up and saw him.

Luke.

His presence was like a gentle weight, nothing forced or demanding. I couldn’t speak, but I didn’t need to. He didn’t ask me any questions, didn’t say anything that would make me feel like I had to explain myself. He just sat down next to me, his eyes kind, but not prying.

He started talking. About everything and nothing. He asked about the weather, about my thoughts on some random topic. His voice was calm, like he was trying to lull me out of the storm inside me. I didn’t respond, but I listened, nodding when he made a joke or pointed something out.

There was something peaceful about being with him, something that felt like it wasn’t about what had happened, but just... being. For the first time in what felt like forever, I smiled. It was a small smile, barely there, but it was real.

He kept talking, telling me little anecdotes, his eyes bright with humor, and I just sat there, watching him, feeling a sense of calm wash over me, if only for a moment.

When the sun began to dip lower, he stood up, offering me his hand.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked gently.

I nodded, silently, and he walked beside me, his presence still comforting, like a steady anchor in the storm. When we reached my house, he stopped and looked at me, his gaze softer than usual.

“I hope you feel better soon, Evelyn,” he said quietly.

And then, before I could stop him, he leaned in and kissed my cheek, a soft, brief touch that sent a strange warmth through me, even though my chest still ached.

He pulled back, smiling, and turned to leave, his steps fading as I stood there, hand still touching my cheek where his lips had just been. The feeling lingered, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the pain. Nothing could do that.