Chapter 87
I stay frozen in place, my body refusing to move, my mind caught somewhere between the Director’s call and the flood of memories I just unleashed.
Closing my eyes, I draw in a long breath, then another, repeating the action until it anchors me to the present.
There’s nothing to be afraid of, I tell myself. The police showing up must be standard procedure. When a machine that size nearly crushes someone, of course they’d have questions. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong.
The worry loosens its grip on me, but only just. As soon as the thought of the police drifts away, my mind drags me back to the letters scattered at my feet.
My chest feels too tight. My heart too heavy. Every word Chloe wrote scrubs into scars I thought had finally begun to fade.
I remember the first time I saw her handwriting in my mailbox, how naïve I was, thinking maybe she wanted to keep a friendship alive. But she never wanted friendship. She only ever wanted triumph.
Her words weren’t just updates. They were daggers. Each one crafted to remind me of what I’d lost… or rather, what she believed I’d never had the right to.
The future I once dreamed of with Noah felt like it was stolen piece by piece. Everything I ever longed to build with Noah, every tender moment I imagined sharing with our family, she made sure she lived it… and she also made sure I knew it.
I press the heel of my hand against my chest, willing myself not to cry again, but it’s useless. I thought I had healed. That I had let go… and I have, but the pain and the scars are still there, haunting me like a phantom.
I’d tried so hard to move on, but even halfway across the world, Chloe still found ways to hurt me. And I hated that
I let her.
Sometimes I even wondered if she got off causing me pain. How else would you explain the lengths she went through to take stabs at my heart?
I lean back against the closet wall, wondering why I kept them. Why didn’t I burn them years ago, shred them, and bury them so deep I’d never see them again?
Maybe because some part of me still wanted proof. Proof that I hadn’t imagined her cruelty. Proof that I wasn’t the jealous girl she painted me to be. Proof that she was never a genuine friend.
But sitting here now, surrounded by her venomous words, I feel exactly like that girl again–small, pathetic and unwanted.
Even during her wedding, I had hope that she was still good. That she was still kind. That she was just going through a phase, but she was still the same girl she was when we were younger. It took moving and being away from her to realize Chloe was never that girl. Right from the start, she was calculating and because we were clueless; we all fell for her act.
“Enough, Si,” I whisper while I wipe my tears.
Chloe is gone and the past is in the past. I can’t keep revisiting it and hoping to heal. It doesn’t work like that. I have a baby and a future to look forward to. Nothing else matters.
Just as I make that decision, my bell rings.
Sniffing and wiping the last of my tears, I stand up and head towards my door. Taking one deep breath, I open it, only to be met with two officers.
“Hello, officers,” I greet, silently thanking my director for the warning. At least I had time to brace myself. “How may I help you p>
“Miss Sierra Meyers, correct?” one of them asks, his voice even but sharp. His obsidian–dark eyes catch mine.
“Yes, that’s me p>
“I’m Officer Mark,” he says with a small nod. “And this is Officer Calton. We’re here regarding the incident that took place two days ago p>
“Would you like to come in p>
They both nod, and I step aside to let them pass, leading them into the living room.
“Sorry about the mess,” I murmur, quickly moving a few half–open boxes from the coffee table. “I was cleaning p>
“No worries,” Officer Calton replies, his tone clipped, almost dismissive, his amber eyes flicking over the mess.
I perch on the edge of a chair as they settle across from me. Up close, they’re an odd contrast. Mark is a bulky guy with warm and soft eyes, while Calton is leaner than his partner but with cold amber eyes.