EVELYN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Evelyn's POV

The house was quiet.
The kind of quiet that was too heavy to even bear. I sat on the edge of my bed, the cold air biting at my damp skin after my bath. My fingers traced the edge of the pill bottle as I fidgeted absentmindedly, staring at nothing in particular. The meds helped dull the ache, both in my body and my head, but they couldn’t touch the storm brewing inside me.

I reached for my phone, needing a distraction. The screen lit up, and I started scrolling mindlessly through social media. Pictures and videos filled my feed, most of them mundane, until a particular post caught my eye.

Party Highlights at the Blackwoods Mansion.

My thumb hovered over the screen as a video auto-played. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the speakers. Beautiful people in elegant dresses and tailored suits danced and mingled. My chest tightened as familiar faces flashed by, and then... his face.

Langston.

He was in the background, laughing, shaking hands, a charming smirk plastered on his face as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t stolen something from me that night.

I dropped the phone, my chest heaving. Memories clawed their way to the surface, sharp and unrelenting. His hands. His voice. My helplessness.

“You’re so pretty, Evelyn.” His words made my body flinch, My eyes threatening to wetten.

A scream built in my throat, but I swallowed it down, tears streaming down my face. My blood boiled, the rage coursing through me overwhelming. I felt used. Useless. A hollow shell of the girl I used to be.

“Now, be a good girl and stop struggling. This could be much easier for you if you just relax.”

I stood up abruptly, pacing the room, my hands clutching my hair. I needed to get out of here. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating me with the weight of my thoughts. Without thinking, I grabbed my hoodie and sneakers, slipping out of the house unnoticed.

The cool evening air hit my face as I wandered aimlessly, the quiet streets a stark contrast to the chaos inside me. I ended up at the park, the same familiar path I had walked countless times. But this time, it didn’t bring me peace.

“Evelyn?”

I froze.

Luke’s voice was calm, soft, like a thread pulling me out of my thoughts. He was standing under a streetlamp, his hands in his pockets, looking at me with that same easygoing smile.

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I nodded, wiping my tears hastily.

“You okay?” he asked, though I could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer.

I shook my head, my lips trembling. He didn’t press. Instead, he motioned to a bench nearby. “Come on. Sit with me.”

I hesitated before following him. We sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling leaves and distant hum of traffic.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Luke said finally, his voice steady, “but you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Sometimes it’s okay to just... be.”

I stared at him, the weight in my chest loosening just a fraction. He didn’t expect anything from me. He didn’t push. For the first time in days, I felt a tiny sliver of relief.

He talked about random things—the stars, his old neighborhood, a funny story about his dog back home. I listened, occasionally managing a faint smile. When it got darker, he walked me back to my house.

As we reached the gate, he paused, hesitating for a moment before leaning in to kiss my cheek. Making me flinch a little but then regaining composure.
“Take care of yourself, Evelyn.”

I watched him walk away, my hand brushing the spot where his lips had been. For a moment, I felt lighter. But as I turned back to the house, the weight settled again, making my stomach churn.

The lights in the living room were still on, curtains swaying from side to side because of the wind.. I stepped inside, dreading what awaited me. Something felt... off.

And that’s when I heard it—voices raised in anger coming from my father’s study. His voice, filled with rage. And another, smoother voice I recognized all too well.

Langston.

My breath hitched. I crept closer, heart pounding, straining to make out the words.

“I don't know what you expect from me, Langston ” my father growled.

Langston’s laugh was cold, mocking. “Oh, James. You know exactly what, and I've given you little to no choice.”

I stepped back, my blood running cold. They didn’t know I was listening. And I didn’t know what scared me more—what Langston might do next, or the fact that my father was hiding something, too.