Blinded

Part 8

KAYLA POV

It was the first Monday of winter break.

No classes. No Zoom check-ins. No alarm to set. I should've felt relieved.

But instead, I woke up in Andre's bed with this weird tightness in my chest. The room was quiet. Still. Cold. The way expensive houses always felt when no one was home.

The other side of the bed was empty. Cold too. His scent was still there—his cologne mixed with my lotion—but he was gone.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my face. My phone buzzed.

Text from Mom:

"Hey sweetie—quick update. DR meetings got extended. They want me on-site in Italy after that. I won't be back until end of March. Please be smart, and don't forget I left money on your card. Love you."

I stared at the screen for a long second.

Three more months?

I swallowed hard. My throat burned like I'd been holding something in all night. I tossed the phone onto the bed and pulled my knees up, resting my chin on them. Outside the window, the sky was gray, the kind of cloudy that makes the whole day feel like it's stuck between moods.

Three more months alone.

Three more months with no one to notice if I disappeared into someone else's life completely.

My phone buzzed again.

Alyssa.

She didn't even send a message—just dropped a screenshot.

Andre. In someone else's story. At a party. Arm around a girl's waist. Laughing. Whispering in her ear like I didn't exist. Like I was a whole secret. Another screenshot—him kissing her cheek while she giggled into his neck like it belonged to her.

My heart didn't even crack. It just... went quiet. Like it knew. Like it had already been preparing for this.

I didn't cry.

I stood up. Pulled on leggings and the first hoodie I could find—his hoodie. And I packed. My charger. My skincare. My slides. I left the little bracelet he bought me on the nightstand. I didn't want it anymore.

The bag was heavy by the time I walked downstairs.

Just as I reached the front door, I heard keys jingle in the lock.

Marcus—one of Andre's boys—walked in like he owned the place, saw me holding my bag, and froze.

"Yo... Kayla?" he said, voice low.

I didn't answer.

"You leaving?"

I just looked at him.

He stepped closer. "Look, I know it looks bad but—"

I cut him off. "He cheated. I saw the videos. There's nothing else to say."

He held up his hands. "It's not like that. He was drunk, and that girl—"

"I'm done, Marcus," I snapped. "Tell your boy he can keep her. I'm not doing this anymore."

As I swung the door open, I almost ran straight into him.

Andre.

Leaning against his car in the driveway. Hoodie on. Phone to his ear.

When he saw me—with my bag, with my face all stiff and done—he froze.

"Kayla."

I said nothing.

He dropped the phone like it burned his hand and stepped forward. "Kayla, hold on. It's not what it looked like. I swear."

I laughed. Low and bitter. "That's what you're going with? That weak-ass line?"

"Let me explain."

"No. You don't get to explain. Not after the way you've treated me. The bruises, Andre. The way you grabbed me, like I was yours to break. And now this?"

He looked around like someone else might be watching. "Lower your voice—"

"No," I said louder. "I won't. I'm not scared of you."

He stepped toward me again, slower now, more careful. "Ma, come on. Please. You can't just walk away from this."

I yanked my phone from my pocket and called an Uber.

"Watch me."

The car pulled up like the universe was listening. I slid in, slammed the door, and didn't look back.

⸻

When I got home, the silence hit me harder than usual.

No mom. No warmth. No smell of food or perfume in the air. Just emptiness.

I dropped the bag inside the door, peeled off my clothes, and walked into the shower. I scrubbed hard. Like I could wash away everything—his touch, his lies, the weight of being someone's almost.

I stood in front of the mirror afterward, towel wrapped tight, steam still clinging to the glass. My eyes were red. Not from crying—yet. From holding everything in.

I sat down on my bed. Opened Instagram. Went live.

No filter. No cute angles. Just me.

Within seconds, the comments were flooding in.

"Kayla what's wrong?"
"You look sad fr."
"Girl are you okay?"
"What's that on your neck?"

I blinked into the camera. My voice felt thin. "Hey y'all... I just needed some light tonight."

The tears came quiet.

But they came.