You Might Be The One (A Fan Fiction) - Luke Hemmings

Chapter 23• The Whole Truth

Leyla's POV

The phone clattered to the floor, a jarring sound in the heavy silence. The world around me felt silent and frozen, just as it had in the moments after the crash. The truth was out. The lie was exposed.

Luke's voice, a ghost from the dropped phone, was all I could hear. The words he said cut deeper than any physical wound. The girl he saw as a "cold, ambitious girl" was the one who had made up constellations. The boy who had saved a ruined paper airplane was the same one who had let me run into the street. The new story, the one we were building brick by brick, was a fragile illusion built on the ruins of a devastating past. I was a coward, and he was a liar. And the two parts of the story, the beautiful and the ugly, were irrevocably intertwined.

"Leyla," Xiana whispered, her voice a mix of concern and fear. She knelt down and picked up the phone, her hands shaking slightly. Her face was a mask of cold fury as she looked at me, then at the phone in her hand. Without a word, she ended the call and placed the phone on the coffee table.

She pulled me into a hug, her arms a tight, protective shield around me. Her usual no-nonsense demeanor was gone, replaced by a deep, quiet sadness. But even her comfort felt like a lie. She was hugging me, but I felt like a stranger. The person she was hugging, the girl who was now a "cold, ambitious coward," was not the sister she thought she knew.

I pulled away, the image of Michael's furious face and Marcus's sad eyes flashing through my mind. They hadn't come to hurt me. They had come to warn me. And Luke had made me believe they were the villains, just as he had made me believe that I was just a victim of an accident. I wasn't just a victim; I was the cause of my own pain.

I walked to the window and looked out at the street. The quiet glow of the streetlights was the only light in the room, a cold contrast to the warm, hopeful light that had filled my world just an hour ago. The paper airplane in my pocket felt like a mockery. The memory of the tacos was a sour taste in my mouth. Everything that had felt so real, so true, was a lie.

The past wasn't just a ghost. It was a monster, and it was reaching out to reclaim me. And for the first time since my accident, I didn't feel like I was moving forward. I felt like I was back at the beginning, staring at a shattered reflection of myself, and this time, I knew exactly why it was broken.

The reflection in the window was a lie. The girl staring back was a stranger, but this time, the strangeness was a betrayal from within. The cold glass of the window felt like the cold, hard reality of my past. I had been so proud of the new story Luke and I were writing, only to find that every page was a phantom, and every line was a lie. He had called me a coward, and in his desperation to save himself from the guilt, he had made me one again.

Xiana's hug was a tight, protective shield, but it felt like a cage. She was hugging me, but she was also hugging a ghost. A ghost of a person she thought she knew, the sister who was now a "cold, ambitious coward." I pulled away from her, the taste of betrayal bitter on my tongue. I wasn't angry at her, but at the world that had been built around me without my consent.

I looked at my phone, a black rectangle on the coffee table. The paper airplane in my pocket felt like a mockery. The memory of the tacos, the new song, the hopeful feeling of a new beginning—it was all a sham. The past wasn't a ghost anymore. It was a monster, and it was reaching out to reclaim me. I could run from it, as the old me had, or I could face it.

And for the first time, I felt a familiar, defiant spark. It was the fire of the girl who made paper airplanes that were meant to fly to the front gate. The girl who went out in a gray dress because people wear what they want. The girl who told a stranger that she was glad she had taken his dare. I was a coward no more. I had to know the truth, all of it.