𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐀

50. Cake and Cars

wow, we are finally at the official 50 chapter mark! Did it take me a year? ... yes. Am I still celebrating? Yes!

This book has become a part of me now, and I hope all of you that have been reading along with me since the start of my journey will be there for the end. (And those who have found me during my journey as well, y'all are awesome)

I must say though that it may be a while until this book is finished since this book has taken longer than I expected to write, and now takes more than 20 hours to read, which is a fucking lot compared to others.

Is it a good or bad thing? I don't know yet.

I love and appreciate you all, and hope you've enjoyed the book so far, and I'm excited for you all to read until to the end, if possible.

enjoy!

song name: 'Look After You' by The Fray

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Angelina's POV:

I leaned back against the wall, my breathing finally slowing. My chest still felt tight, and my head was spinning, but at least I wasn't on the floor anymore.
The burning embarrassment in my cheeks was unbearable. I could feel their eyes boring into me, and the pity—or worse, concern—I knew I'd see if I looked up would make me feel even smaller.

So, I forced out a laugh, weak and shaky. "I'm fine now," I said, my voice cracking. I wiped my face, trying to erase every trace of what just happened. "Really. I'll just go home or something. It's not a big deal."

Silence. I dared a glance at them. Ale's jaw was tight, his arms crossed like he was trying not to explode. Marco's expression was harder to read, but his eyes were sharp, cutting through every lie I'd just told.

"How long?" Luca asked, his voice low.

I frowned, confused. "What?"

"How long have you been having panic attacks?" he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

My stomach twisted. I froze, every muscle in my body locking up. I couldn't tell them. I couldn't. They already thought I was fragile, and this would only prove them right.

"I don't," I said quickly, shaking my head. "That wasn't—this isn't—" I trailed off, realizing how pathetic I sounded.

"Stop lying," Marco said sharply, his eyes narrowing.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Fine," I muttered. "Only a few times. It's not even that bad. Just... sometimes."

"How many is a few?" Ale pressed, stepping closer. His voice was gentler now, but his expression was still grim.

I looked away, my hands clenching into fists. I didn't want to answer. I didn't want them to know. "It doesn't matter," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm handling it."

"No, you're not," Marco snapped, his voice firm but not unkind. "We're not letting you just 'handle it' alone."

Luca crouched down to meet my eyes, his expression softening. "You don't have to pretend with us, Ange," he said. "You're not weak for needing help."

I wanted to argue, to brush it off, but the lump in my throat made it impossible, so I just nodded, clenching my jaw and swallowing down the lump in my throat.

"I'm fine," I said, more forcefully this time, pushing myself up to my feet. My legs wobbled, but I steadied myself, refusing to let them see how drained I felt. "I don't need a lecture. I just need some air."