Chapter 25
Jul 18, 2025
The cafeteria was a graveyard of silence. My voice still hung in the air from what I’d said. The sting of “And now fuck off, Miles” had barely faded, and already the crowd had tripled. No one moved. No one breathed. Trays sat untouched. Forks frozen halfway to mouths. Every pair of eyes glued to me like I was the headline in a trainwreck no one wanted to miss.
Miles stood there, cheeks burning with a shade too close to fury. His hand hovered near the back of the chair like he still had control over how this went. But he didn’t. Not anymore.
“You done putting on your little show?” His voice came low, but loud enough for the room to hear. It had that old Miles bite—casual cruelty, aimed to humiliate.
I laughed, loud and sharp, slicing the air open.
“You think this is for them?” I took a step forward, eyes locked on his. “This is for me. For every time you rewrote the story to make yourself the victim.”
His jaw twitched. “I never—”
“You told people I was too good for you like it was noble,” I said, the words hot and rising. “You broke me and called it love. You don’t get to narrate my trauma like it’s some kind of redemption arc you can use to make yourself look better.”
“You didn’t love me, Miles.” I could hear my pulse in my ears. “You loved having someone who made you look shiny. You loved the control. You loved that I said sorry when you disappeared. That I blamed myself when you started texting Amber again.”
His sneer was automatic. Defensive. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” My fists curled at my sides. “You hurt me. And when you saw me getting better with someone else, you couldn’t stand it. So you twisted it into this sick game to make me fall back in line.”
He scoffed, loud and bitter. “Jesus. You’re actually insane.”
“No.” I tilted my head, voice cold. “But you made me think I was.”
That’s when the silence changed. It wasn’t just tension anymore—it was danger. The kind of hush that comes before something breaks. Even the students who hadn’t cared before were watching now. They could smell blood in the water.
“You’re a mess,” Miles said. “You act like you’re this poor little broken girl, but really? You’re just psycho.”
The word didn’t land the way he wanted it to. It didn’t cut. It didn’t shatter me. It lit a fuse.
I stepped closer, close enough that he could see just how done I was. “Say that again.”
His smile twisted, slow and ugly. “You’re. A. Psycho.”
I opened my mouth—ready to destroy him—but then I saw it. The flicker of something in his eyes. The shift in his grip.
The soda cup in his hand lifted. And before I could move, it crashed into me. The drink exploded across my chest—cold, sticky, humiliating. It soaked through my shirt with a single, cruel splash.
Gasps rippled through the cafeteria. A tray clattered somewhere behind me. My breath caught in my throat, stunned. For a second, I couldn’t even feel my body. Just the sting of eyes crawling over me and the wet fabric clinging to my skin.
Then—
Footsteps.
Fast. Hard. Angry.
The sound of chaos barreling toward order like it owed it nothing.
Chase.
He came out of nowhere, a blur of fury and movement. There was no warning. No time to process.
One punch.
Miles dropped—hard—a heap on the linoleum, like someone had unplugged him. Like he didn’t even understand what hit him until he was on the ground.
The cafeteria erupted. Screams, chairs clattering, phones out.
But all I could do was stare.
He came for me.
