Falling Between the Notes (Nicholas Galitzine)

Chapter 68: The Weight of It

-Later in the morning-

Nick's POV

I didn't sleep.

Not really. 

I was back in my home, in California, as we had finished filming for the time being, until next month. I had gone back to my apartment, not wanting to be in mine and Jade's house, as her things there would make me remember everything I had lost. 

But, no, I didn't sleep much. I might've shut my eyes at some point, but the second I did, my mind filled with images I didn't want to see. Images of Jade—laughing, dancing, touching him. Her lips glossed, her hair in soft waves, her body pressed too fucking close to Benito's in that dimly lit club.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that damn video.

And every time I opened them, I saw her texts.

Jade: Nick... please.
Jade: Just leave me alone. Don't keep hurting me like this.

I stared at those words until they burned into my skull.

She had turned off her phone. I knew because my last message never switched to "Delivered." The second I had poured my heart out, desperate for her to give me even the smallest opening, she had shut me out.

I had lost her.

The weight of it sat heavy in my chest, pressing, crushing.

I was so used to us being dramatic, fighting, breaking apart just to crash back together, but this time?

This time, it felt different.

Like she really meant it.

Like she was already slipping away.

And I was fucking losing my mind.

I shoved a hand through my hair, exhaling hard as I paced my living room.My place was a disaster—half-empty whiskey glass on the coffee table, the remnants of some takeout I hadn't touched, a sweatshirt of Jade's still thrown over the couch. It still smelled like her.

I grabbed my phone again, my thumb hovering over her name. I knew she wouldn't answer. But that didn't stop me from wanting to hear her voice.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. How the fuck did we get here?

I could hear my publicist's voice in my head already. Stay off social media, Nick. Don't respond to anything. Let this blow over.

Like that was even a fucking option.

I pulled up Twitter—fuck, X, whatever—before I could stop myself, and there it was.

Trending.

Jade and Benito.

All over my fucking timeline.

Fan accounts posting blurry pictures of them at the beach, them at the club, a damn video of them laughing over drinks. And the comments? They were eating it up.

💬 She looks so happy, omg.
💬 Benito & Jade is the collab we didn't know we needed 😍
💬 Nick who?

My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Nick who?

I gritted my teeth, scrolling, letting the anger fester. The worst part? I couldn't even blame them. She did look happy.

Happier than she'd looked with me in a long time.

A lump formed in my throat, my stomach twisting into knots as I kept scrolling.