Page 69 of Boards & Betrayal

The door clicked shut behind Tom, and I felt the weight of the world crash down on me. My knees gave way, hitting the cold hardwood floor with a dull thud. The tears came in a torrent, unstoppable and raw. My body trembled as I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to soothe the ache inside.

Every sob wrenched something deeper from within me. I buried my face in my hands, muffling the sounds of my grief. Images of the baby I lost, moments stolen before they could ever be lived, flashed before my eyes. And there was Tom—his kindness, his strength—woven into every painful memory.

I wanted so badly to tell him everything. To spill out the truth about the miscarriage, to share the weight I had been carrying alone for too long. But I knew what that would do to him. The anger in his eyes whenever Janet or Nick came up was a reminder of his fierce protectiveness. If he knew the full extent of my pain, if he understood what the two of them had done, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

He would storm out and confront them both, not caring about the consequences. And knowing Tom, he'd end up doingsomething that would get him into serious trouble. I couldn't bear that thought. The idea of him losing everything because of me was unbearable.

So, I kept silent. I held onto my secret like a lifeline, even as it tore me apart from the inside out. My sobs echoed in the empty room. It wasn't fair—none of it was—but fairness seemed like a distant concept these days.

I needed to be strong for him, even if it meant breaking myself in the process.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually, I sucked in a breath and the sobs slowed. I lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, feeling like a hollow shell. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and for a moment, I couldn't move.

I didn't know what I was going to do now. The studio had fired me because of Nick's meddling, and with two weeks left until graduation, I felt utterly lost. My dream of building a career in photography seemed to slip further away with each passing second. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever find solid ground again.

The ceiling above me blurred as tears welled up once more. How had everything gotten so complicated? My life used to have a semblance of direction, a path that made sense. Now, it felt like I was standing in the middle of a chaotic storm with no end in sight.

I needed to get up, to do something—anything—but my body refused to cooperate. It felt like gravity had tripled its pull, anchoring me to the floor with an unyielding force. The events of the past few months played on repeat in my mind: the miscarriage, the betrayal by Nick, the unexpected connection with Tom. Every moment felt like a stab wound that hadn't quite healed.

What was my next move? I didn't have an answer. And that scared me more than anything else. Tom had become a source of comfort and strength, but he couldn't solve everything for me. I needed to figure out how to stand on my own two feet again.

With great effort, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My head throbbed from crying, and my muscles protested from lying on the hard floor for so long. I glanced around my small apartment; it felt emptier than usual.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and took another deep breath. Maybe it was time to reach out to Kara and see if she could help me find another photography gig. Or perhaps I needed to sit down and really think about what I wanted from life after graduation.

But for now, all I could do was focus on getting through the next few minutes. One step at a time. One breath at a time. It wasn't much, but it was all I had left.

My phone rang, breaking the silence that had settled around me like a heavy fog. I glanced at the screen and sawMomflash across it. My chest tightened, a pang of longing surging through me. I hadn't realized just how much I missed her until that moment.

I took a deep breath and answered, my voice shaky. "H-hello?"

"Ally?" Her voice was gentle, concerned. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Tears sprang to my eyes again. How could she always tell? Even through the phone, she knew something was off.

"Mom…" I choked out. Another breath, deeper this time. "Mom, I don't know what to do."

"Oh, honey," she said softly. "Here. Can you drive? Come over and let's just talk. Or, if you don't want to talk, we can watch reruns ofMauryandJerry Springer."

A small giggle escaped me despite the tears. "I'd like that."

"Come on," she urged gently. "Can you drive? Or should I pick you up?"

"I can drive," I murmured, wiping my face.

"Okay, sweetie. I'll see you soon."

We hung up, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a tiny sliver of relief. Just hearing her voice had lightened the weight on my shoulders ever so slightly.

I stood up on unsteady legs and grabbed my keys from the counter. The familiar click of the door behind me as I left my apartment was oddly comforting. It felt like a small step toward reclaiming some semblance of control over my life.

As I made my way to my car, I took another deep breath, trying to steady myself for the drive ahead.

I reached my car, the cold metal handle grounding me for a moment. I slipped inside, the familiar scent of the worn leather seats providing a small comfort. I turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I let my mind drift to the scenery around me. It was spring in southwest Michigan, and the world outside was bursting with new life. The trees along the road were budding with fresh green leaves, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Tulips and daffodils dotted front yards and gardens, their bright colors standing out against the still-muted tones of early spring.

I drove past rows of houses, each one a little different from the last. Some had kids playing in the yards, their laughter carried on the wind. Others had elderly couples sitting on porches, sipping iced tea and watching the world go by. It was a reminder of simpler times, when life seemed less complicated.

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