Friends

Chapter 53

A/N: The Book is FINISHED! Read the entirety of it on my Patreon along with other exclusive content if you want to check those out!

Jasmine's POV:

I'm on my bed, curled up. The blanket's wrapped around me like it might hold me together, but it doesn't. Not really.

The room is dim—just the glow from my phone screen lighting the space. I haven't moved in hours. I haven't eaten. I've barely blinked.

My phone rests on the comforter, taunting me. Still no text. No call. Just silence and the sound of my own heartbeat climbing into my throat.

I can't take it anymore.

I grab the phone and call Nya.
She picks up on the second ring.

"He's going to leave me."

That's the first thing I say when Nya picks up.

Not hello. Not hey. Just panic.

It bubbles up before I can stop it—raw and loud and gasping for air. Like the words have been trapped under my ribs all day and finally clawed their way out.

Because that's what it feels like—this tight, awful spiral that keeps dragging me under. Like I'm drowning, but there's no water. Like I'm falling, but I never hit the ground. My chest feels like it's caving in. My vision is blurry. My throat is raw. And the tears—God, the tears won't stop. It's like once the dam broke, everything poured out at once. I can't even catch my breath between sobs. My body won't stop trembling, like my nervous system's been hijacked. I'm crying so hard it feels like my body is trying to empty itself of everything at once—grief, guilt, fear, all of it crashing out in one endless stream. My lungs burn. My head spins. And I can't stop.

Her screen lights up on my phone, and her expression immediately drops. "Okay, who do I have to kill?"

I laugh, but it comes out broken. Shaky. Like something is cracking under the surface.

"I fucked everything up. I know I did. He walked out and he's not coming back."

Nya squints. "Wait—what? What happened? I thought y'all were doing better. You literally said you apologized."

"I did," I croak. "But I don't think it was enough. He said he needed air. He walked out and he didn't use a single pet name the whole time. Not one. Not a single 'princess.'"

Nya's quiet for a second. I can see her processing.

"Okay," she says carefully. "Let's walk it back. What happened right before he left?"

I rub my hands down my face. My cheeks are sticky with tears. My chest feels like it's caving in.

"He said he can't carry both of us forever. That I need to talk to him instead of panicking. That I don't trust him. And he's right. He's so fucking right, Nya. And that's why I know he's going to leave. Because who would want to stay with someone like this?"

"Like what?" she snaps, eyes narrowed.

"Like me. Paranoid. Controlling. Broken. I stalked him, Nya. I pulled up to his ex's apartment like a maniac. Who does that?"

She exhales sharply. "You were scared. You spiraled. That doesn't make you broken. That makes you human."

"No, it makes me Kendrick. It makes me the exact kind of person I swore I'd never be. And now Marc's gonna wake up one day and realize he deserves someone normal. Someone who doesn't explode every time they feel insecure."

"You don't get to decide what he deserves," Nya says gently. "That's his call. And if he says he wants you—then let him want you. Mess and all."

I shake my head. "You didn't see his face. You didn't hear his voice. He was so calm. So... disappointed. Like he was already planning his exit."

"Jasmine," she says slowly. "You're catastrophizing. He told you he needed air. That's not the same as goodbye."

I curl into myself on the couch, wrapping a blanket around my knees like it can hold me together.

"But I could see it in his eyes, Nya. That look. That moment when someone realizes they're done trying. He looked at me like... like he didn't recognize me."

Nya stays quiet for a beat.

"You know what I see right now?"

I look up, her face pixelated and glowing on my screen.

"I see a girl who's trying. Who's fighting like hell not to fall back into every survival instinct she was forced to build. You're not crazy, Jasmine. You're scared. And you're healing. And that shit is messy."

My throat tightens.

"But what if I pushed him too far? What if this was the thing that tipped the scale?"

Nya leans closer to the camera.

"Then he'll tell you. And if he walks, then you'll grieve, and you'll cry, and I'll come over with wine and popcorn and call him a dickhead. But until then? You don't get to write the ending to a story that's still being told."

I nod, even though my chest still aches.

"You really think he's coming back?"

"I think," she says, "he already did. The moment he saw all your crazy and didn't run. So maybe trust him enough to believe he meant it."

I wipe my face again.

"You always know what to say."

"It's in the best friend job description. Now take a breath, get some water, and stop spiraling. You're not alone."

There's a knock on the door.

"Jasmine, can we talk?"

A familiar voice calls out—tentative, low. Marc.

My heart stutters.

I look at the screen.

"Nya—I gotta go."