Ethan had been acting more quiet lately.
Not distant exactly, but not as present as he used to be. His texts came slower. Our meetups felt shorter. It was subtle so subtle that if I hadn't memorized the rhythm of us, I might've brushed it off.
But I noticed. I always noticed.
We still walked to class together. Still sat beside each other at lunch. Still exchanged inside jokes and shared coffees. But something felt different, like there was a wall forming between us that neither of us acknowledged. And I couldn't figure out whether I was building it… or he was.
After everything, after the kiss, the secrets, the night we sat in his room and talked like the world couldn't touch us, I thought we were finally okay. I thought we were building something real.
But now I wasn't so sure.
It all came crashing down during lunch.
I didn't even have time to react before Lia ran up to me in the hallway, eyes wide. "Scarlet… you need to see this."
She handed me her phone, and there it was. A blurry photo, already posted on the school gossip page with hundreds of likes and dozens of comments.
ETHAN DONOVAN'S BACK WITH ALEXIS? Was it all fake?
My stomach dropped.
The image showed Ethan and Alexis standing near the parking lot. From the angle, it looked like they were arguing, but his hand was on her shoulder. Close. Intimate.
It wasn't the full story. But to the internet? It was enough.
The comment section was a battlefield.
"Scarlet, who?"
"Called it from the start, just a PR stunt."
"Alexis always wins."
I handed the phone back and walked away, pretending I wasn't crumbling inside.
By the time I reached the back of the library, my hands were shaking. My mind kept flipping through moments like flashcards, his kiss, his promise, his warmth.
Were they real? Or just well-rehearsed lines?
A chair scraped across from me. Ethan.
His face looked more tired than I'd ever seen, it dark circles under his eyes, tension in his jaw. "Scarlet," he said quietly, "I saw it. The post. The photo."
I didn't say anything. Just stared at him, my heart thudding like a warning drum.
"She came to find me after practice. I told her to leave me alone. I didn't know someone was watching, let alone taking pictures."
I wanted to believe him. But my voice came out small. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to give her any more power than she already had. I thought if I ignored her, it'd stop."
"She's not stopping."
He leaned forward. "I'm not with her. I'm with you. But whoever's behind this… they're playing dirty."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "And what if it works? What if they get what they want?"
His eyes softened. "Then we fight harder."
But it already felt like we were losing.
Later that night, I sat in bed staring at my ceiling, my phone lying face-down beside me. I hadn't answered his last message. I didn't know what to say.
My phone buzzed again.
If he lied once, he'll lie again. Want proof? Check the rink. Now.
The message sent a chill down my spine. I sat up, fingers trembling as I read it again. Who was doing this? How did they always know where to hit me hardest?
I shouldn't have gone.
But I did.
It was late, the streets half-lit and quiet as I walked quickly across campus. The rink was dark except for the faint orange glow of the parking lot light and the emergency bulb by the side entrance.
I stepped inside, the cold air curling around my skin like a warning.
At first, the place looked empty.
Then I saw them.
Ethan. Alexis.
Near the far exit, just past the rink doors. They were talking too far for me to hear clearly. Alexis touched his arm. He didn't pull away.
Then, he leaned in and hugged her.
I froze. The air caught in my lungs.
It wasn't long. It wasn't passionate.
But it was enough.
Enough to undo every ounce of trust I'd spent the last month rebuilding.
I backed away slowly, heart slamming against my ribs, and turned, rushing out of the rink before they could see me.
By the time I reached my house, my vision was blurry. I didn't cry, not yet. My hands were cold. My thoughts are louder than ever.
What was real?
What was fake?
Was I just a placeholder in someone else's redemption arc?
My phone buzzed one final time.
Told you.
I stared at the screen, the words echoing through my chest like a cruel whisper. A confirmation. A warning. A victory.
Maybe this was what they wanted all along.
To break me.
And I was afraid it might be working.