Hazel

 Author’s Note
          
          I want to start by saying this is the last chapter of this book I’ll be writing.
          
          I know it’s taken me a long time to get here, and for that—I do apologize. But the truth is, this story isn’t fiction. These pages hold parts of my life, my pain, my healing… and that’s not always easy to write through. It’s taken time, therapy, and a lot of deep breaths to even get to this point.
          
          But I’m in a much better place now. Stronger. Softer in the right ways, and harder in the ones that count.
          
          I don’t have the energy to keep reopening this chapter of my life—not because I’m avoiding it, but because I’ve finally outgrown it. And that, in itself, feels like a victory.
          
          To everyone who read, commented, or liked even a single chapter—thank you. Truly. I never expected anyone to find this book, let alone connect with it. But you did. And for that, I’m endlessly grateful.
          
          This story doesn’t end with a perfect bow. It ends with truth, growth, and the kind of quiet strength that doesn’t beg to be seen.
          
          Here’s to choosing yourself—even when it hurts.
          Here’s to saying goodbye—on your own terms.
          And here’s to the next chapter—whatever that may be.
          
          —Hazel 
          

Hii, I apologise for writing on your CB. I recently completed my book The Dark Fated Night. Please read and vote. 
          
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/397340622?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Kookie_World0518

✨ New Chapters Live – #13 & #14 ✨
          It’s been a minute… but I didn’t come back empty-handed.
          
           Chapter 13: The Letter & The Lie
          The past doesn’t just knock—it kicks the damn door down. Flashbacks. Regret. The kind of love that felt real… until it wasn’t. And yes, the letter makes an appearance. The one she never thought she’d read again.
          
           Chapter 14: What I Remember, What I Regret
          Four months. One dinner. One night. And the kind of sex that makes you forget you’re supposed to be broken. But memories don’t stay tucked away forever, especially when therapy is waiting with open arms (and one hell of a balsam fir candle).
          
          If you’ve been waiting for a messy, emotional, therapy-grown mic drop—you’re welcome.
          Now go read. And hydrate. Because shit’s about to get real.
           #HisFavoriteLie #basedonatruestory #newchapters #messyhealing #traumaspice #emotionalsmut #chapter13 #chapter14

Chapter 12 is live!
          Hazel’s back on Dr. Rhodes’s couch, spilling tea hotter than her chai. Childhood wounds? Check. Holiday anxiety? Check. Sass, sarcasm, and a side of cheesecake? You already know.
          ️ This one’s raw, real, and hits a little too close to home.
          Let me know what line wrecked you.  #HisFavoriteLie #Chapter12 #basedonatruestory

Hi,I apologise for writing in your conversation box. 
          I've written a story and would like to know your opinion. If you like it then please support. 
          
          
          
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/397340622?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Kookie_World0518

You ever unpack your trauma like it’s a fucked-up IKEA set—missing pieces, no manual, and just a ball of rage where the instructions should be?
          
          Yeah. That’s this chapter. Chapter 11
          
          Therapy’s not gentle anymore. I’m not romanticizing shit.
          I’m dragging the ugliest parts of me into the light and daring them to flinch.
          
          This isn’t about heartbreak.
          It’s about identity collapse, emotional hoarding, and why I stayed when I should’ve run.
          
          And spoiler: Dr. Rhodes doesn’t let me dodge the truth anymore.
          
           There’s a journal entry.
           There’s shame, grief, and a few F-bombs.
           And there’s the moment I finally admit… maybe I became my mother.
          
          Read it if you’re ready to get uncomfortable.
          Read it if you’ve ever loved someone who made you feel invisible.
          
          But don’t say I didn’t warn you. 
          

I changed the title to His Favorite Lie—because that’s exactly what I was. The lie he kept telling himself, the one he fed me with just enough sweetness to keep me starving. I was the fantasy he never planned to live up to, and the truth I was too in love to see clearly.
          
          And maybe I’m bitter. Maybe I’m still healing. But I’m also fucking honest. This story? It’s me ripping the pretty off the pain and finally telling it the way it really happened. Because I might’ve been his favorite lie—but I’m done lying to myself.

You guys didn’t seriously think I was gonna drop one cozy-ass chapter and then disappear again, did you? 
          Please.
          I took a breath, not a vow of silence.
          
          Part 10 is HERE—and it’s soft, it’s spicy, it’s cinnamon-roll-scented emotional damage wrapped in a hoodie. 
          We’re back in the kitchen. Back in the feels. And Hazel is finally starting to see the difference between love and manipulation. (With a side of murder-fairy nails and sass that could burn your eyebrows off.)
          
          Go read. Go comment. Go cry and blame the cinnamon rolls.
          I’ll be over here folding origami hearts out of red flags. 

          Okay, listen…
          
          After the emotional decapitation that was Part 8, I figured we all deserved a break. So Part 9? This one’s softer. Kinda.
          
          It’s wine, takeout, candles, and the kind of best friend who shows up unannounced and reminds you that you’re not completely broken—you’re just bleeding in reverse with good lighting.
          
          There’s no therapy session. No trauma flashbacks. Just Hazel, Callum, and a night that didn’t end in tears for once.
          
          Also, Yuna is still better than everyone. Obviously.
          
          If you laughed, cried, or thought “wow I need a Callum in my life,” feel free to scream about it in the comments. Or send wine. I’ll take either.
          
          See you in Part 10, babes.
          We’re still healing. Still a mess. Still that bitch.
          
          — Hazel  #CinnamonRollsAndEmotionalGrowth #StillDidn’tTextMyEx

 14 Followers and Zero Comments? Let’s Talk.
          
          So, here’s the deal:
          Love Me Like a Mistake (or His Favorite Lie—I’m still fighting myself over the damn title) just clawed its way to #4 in basedonatruestory and #7 in gritty out of 1,000+ stories.
          
          And yet… crickets.
          No comments. No messages. Not even a “hey, you ruined me” or a “girl, are you okay?”
          Honestly, I’m not—but that’s beside the point.
          
          I see you reading. I see the views climbing. So if you’re out there, lurking like my trauma in a quiet room… say something. Anything.
           Drop a comment
           Tell me which part ripped you apart
           Or shoot me a DM if that’s more your vibe
          
          Because writing this story is healing, sure.
          But healing louder with you would be a hell of a lot more fun.
          
          Stay messy,
          Hazel Quinn 
          (still choosing violence, still writing through the ache)