Page 56 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

She pauses, her fingers curling into the blanket. "He took ‘fake it until you make it’ to a whole new level. And for a while, I went along with it. I thought maybe if I tried harder, I’d feel what I was supposed to feel. But I couldn’t. Not forever."

Her voice hardens slightly, and she glances at me. "When I left, it wasn’t mutual. He would’ve kept going, kept pretending, kept trying to force something that wasn’t there. But I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t keep living a life that felt like a lie."

Her gaze finally lifts to meet mine, her hazel eyes shadowed with something that feels like years of exhaustion. "So yeah. Plans change. But I got Ollie out of it. And no matter what else happened, I wouldn’t trade him for anything."

"You did what you thought you had to," I say, my voice low. "I get that."

She offers a small, tired smile. "It doesn’t feel like enough sometimes. But thanks for saying it."

I swallow hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "You didn’t finish school?"

"Nope," she says, shaking her head. "Senior year would’ve started right before Ollie was born. There wasn’t time. Marcus’s job was demanding, and... I don’t know. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone."

I run a hand through my hair, trying to process it. "I understand things not going according to plans."

She lets out a dry laugh, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling. "Yeah, well, life doesn’t care about our plans. But it’s not all bad. And I didn't mean 'our' as in yours and mine," she says, pointing between me and her. "I mean 'our' in the collective sense."

I smile at that. "I knew what you meant." I stop short of saying that 'our' plans not working out totally included her.

"Now that things have settled, I’m starting over. This graphic design thing? It’s actually fun. I get to be creative again, and... I don’t know, it feels good to be doing something for me."

I nod, my hand brushing against hers. "I’m glad. You deserve that…"

NINETEEN

Sienna

But if time bends, if fate allows

8:44 AM

It’s strange,hearing my own voice lay everything out like this. I’ve spent years keeping so much of it to myself—pushing it down, filing it away, telling myself it didn’t matter anymore. But here I am, spilling every piece of it to Callum. And the weirdest part? It doesn’t feel terrifying. It feels... cathartic.

Maybe it’s because he was there at the start of all this. Not for the Marcus part, but for the beginning of me becoming who I am now. If he hadn’t left...

No. I don’t go there. Not anymore. What’s the point of "what if" when it doesn’t change what actually happened?

But still, lying here with him now… It’s like I’ve been holding this weight in my chest for so long that I forgot what it feels liketo breathe. And somehow, he makes it easier. Maybe because he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t try to fix it or tell me I’m wrong for feeling how I feel. He just listens, his gaze steady and quiet, like he’s giving me all the space I need to unload without judgment.

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair as the room falls silent again. The heaviness of my words lingers for a moment before I glance at him and offer a small smile. "God, I must sound like the world’s biggest downer."

He shakes his head as his mouth curves into a soft smile. "You don’t."

"Liar," I say, laughing lightly. "But thanks for letting me fill in those parts you don't know. I don’t usually..." I hesitate, searching for the right words. "I don’t usually unload my baggage like this."

“What do you mean?” he asks, leaning closer.

"Open up like this," I admit, my voice quieter now. "I’m usually pretty good at keeping it all locked up. But... I don’t know. It feels like part of this is your story."

His brow quirks slightly, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. "How?"

"You were there," I say, shrugging. "Not for all of it, but for the start of it. You were... the catalyst, I guess. I don't know. I'm not making sense now."

His hand brushes mine lightly, and the gesture sends a small jolt of warmth through me. "Well, for what it’s worth," he says, his voice low, "I’m glad you’re talking to me now. I actually want to know everything. The good, the bad, and even the ugly."

The air between us shifts slightly, the tension from before giving way to something lighter, softer. I glance at him, his hair tousled and his eyes steady on mine, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.

"You know," I say, leaning back against the pillows, "you were a lot more fun when you weren’t so serious."

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