Page 147 of Far

Unless… unless he didn’t want me to know. Maybe he regretted that night, regretted me, and didn’t want to face the truth. Maybe he was too much of a coward to admit that he fucked me and then left me in that hotel room without so much as a goodbye.

No. Stop it. You’re being ridiculous. Connor loves you. He asked you to marry him, for Christ’s sake!

He wouldn’t do that if he were just using you for sex. Period. This is all just some big misunderstanding. There has to be another explanation.

But what if there isn’t? Is everything we have built on a fucking lie?

My heart clenches painfully at the thought. I can’t breathe. Oh my god. This can’t be happening. Not like this. Not after…

I stumble to my own phone, fingers shaking as I type out a message to Chris’ number.

Mary: hello

I hit send and stare at the other phone. Don’t. Please, please, please d—

The screen lights up with a new message. I tap on it, but it won’t show me the name.

It could be random, right? A coincidence.

I type out another message, my hands trembling so badly I can barely hit the keys.

Mary: test

I press send and wait, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. The phone in my hand vibrates, lighting up with another message.

A desperate laugh bubbles up from my throat, tears blurring my vision. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I tap on Chris’ number, calling it.

No. Fucking. Way.

Tears stream down my face as I stare at the ringing phone, my own name mocking me. How is this possible? Connor is Chris?

I was right.

All along… I was right.

The similarities, the connection, the way he made mefeel…

But why? Why would he lie? Why would he let me think Chris didn’t want me when he was right there the whole time?

I was your first, and I’m going to be your last.

“Blue?”

Connor.

Or should I say, Chris?

I pivot toward him, the phone still clutched in my grasp.

Fear is etched across his features, and it feels alien. He’s always been a fortress, its walls impenetrable, but now they tremble before me. His eyes flick from my face to the phone, to the mask and back again.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Opens it again. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what the fuck does it look like, Connor?” My voice is flat. Dead. As dead as the trust he murdered. “Or is it actually, Chris?”

Connor flinches at the name, but he doesn’t deny it. Can’t deny it.

---