Too Late For His Desperate Proposal
For seventeen years, I loved my best friend, Holden King. I was the quiet girl who always had a bandage for his scraped knees, secretly believing we were meant to be.
But he shattered my world with six words: "She's my sister. That's all." He fell for the cruel and glamorous Fabiola, even taking her to our secret meadow.
Her jealousy was a poison. She faked a pregnancy to trap him, then hired a man to attack me in an alley. The trauma ruptured an aneurysm in my brain, and I went blind.
Through it all, Holden defended her. He refused to believe she was capable of such evil, choosing the monster he'd known for months over the girl he'd known his whole life.
My savior, a kind doctor named Jace, offered me a future, and we planned a fake wedding to give my terrified parents hope.
But as I stood blind at the altar, Holden crashed the ceremony. He fell to his knees, a diamond ring in his hand.
"I love you, Chloe," he cried. "Marry me."
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Chapter 4
Chloe Waller POV:
A searing, white-hot pain exploded across my skin. I cried out, jumping to my feet as the scalding liquid soaked through my sweater.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled, my voice shaking with pain and fury as I glared at Tiffany.
She feigned a look of wide-eyed innocence. "Oh my god, Chloe, I am so, so sorry! It was an accident!" She reached out as if to touch the angry red blotches already forming on my skin.
"Don' t touch me!" I snapped, recoiling. The pain was intensifying, a vicious, burning throb.
The commotion had attracted the attention of the other patrons and the café staff.
"This is a warning, you little bitch," Tiffany hissed under her breath, her sweet facade dropping for a second to reveal the venom beneath. "Stay away from Holden."
Her words hit me harder than the coffee. This was deliberate. This was a message from Fabiola.
A waiter rushed over with a damp cloth and a first-aid kit. Tiffany was still putting on a show, dabbing uselessly near my arm, her touch making me flinch. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes, and I slapped her hand away.
"Get away from me!"
"Did Fabiola put you up to this?" I demanded, my voice trembling.
Tiffany' s eyes widened in mock horror. "What? Of course not! Fabiola would never! I was just trying to help her out, that' s all. You should know your place." Her voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Don' t make me warn you again."
There was nothing left to say. The cruelty of it all was breathtaking. I turned and walked out of the café, ignoring the stares and whispers, my arm screaming in protest. A small, naive part of me prayed that Fabiola really didn't know, that her friend had acted alone.
My parents were horrified when I got home. My mother gently cleaned and bandaged the burn, her lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
"You need to stay away from them, Chloe," she said, her voice firm. "These are not good people."
I nodded numbly and, for a week, I followed her advice. I ignored Holden' s texts, I let his calls go to voicemail. I couldn' t face him. I couldn' t pretend to be happy for him when his new life was a constant source of pain, and his new girlfriend was actively trying to hurt me.
Then, one afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was Holden, holding a small, gift-wrapped box.
"Chlo, I was so worried," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "Fabiola told me what happened. I' m so sorry. I had no idea until today."
A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. Of course. He was here to do damage control for Fabiola.
"It' s fine. I' m fine," I said, my voice flat. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. "You didn' t have to come."
"Of course I did," he said, pushing the box into my hands. "I don' t want things to be weird between us, Chlo."
Too late, I screamed in my head. The weirdness is a permanent resident now. It' s moved in and redecorated.
"We just don' t get along with Fabiola' s friends," I said, forcing a placating tone.
He looked relieved. "Okay, well, just ignore them then. You don' t have to interact with her." His loyalty, I noted with a fresh pang of hurt, was already decided.
"What if she did it on purpose, Holden?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I had to know. I had to see if he would believe me.
He looked shocked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Tiffany? No way. She' s not like that. You' re probably just being a little sensitive, Chlo."
There it was. He chose her. He chose them. He trusted the word of a girl he' d known for a few months over me, his seventeen-year-long "sister." The disappointment was a physical weight in my chest.
"Yeah," I said, my voice hollow. "Maybe you' re right. I' m just tired. I think I' m going to lie down."
It was a clear dismissal, and after a moment of hesitation, he left.
Alone in my room, I opened the gift. It was a pair of delicate silver earrings.
I don' t have pierced ears. Holden knew this. We' d had a whole conversation about it last year when I' d considered getting them done and then chickened out.
Then, another memory surfaced. A conversation with Fabiola at that horrible shopping trip. She' d been complaining about a gift from Holden. "He bought me these hideous earrings," she' d whined. "I told him to take them back."
He' d given me Fabiola' s reject gift. A hand-me-down. An afterthought.
A single tear plopped onto the velvet box. I couldn' t even be bothered to wipe it away. With a surge of anger, I threw the box into the trash can.
As I did, the room suddenly swam. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my vision went black for a terrifying second. I gripped the edge of my desk, my heart pounding, until the world righted itself.
Shaken, I stumbled out of my room. "Mom," I called out, forcing a brightness I didn' t feel. "I' m starving."
I had to be normal. I had to be okay.