Page 30 of The Bittersweet Bond

I'd said she was free. Free like a fucking bird.

And he’d meant it. Hehad.

He just hadn’t expected her to fly straight into someone else’s arms.

And yet... part of him liked the image of her that way.

Free. Wild. Impossible to hold.

Birdie.

My Birdie.

Fuck! Stop that shit!

His gaze darkened, and then—without thinking—he smacked himself.

Get it together, man. Get it the fuck together!

His skin stung with the echo of his own slap.

You can have any girl. You don’t need her! Who even is she?

Just some girl! Like any other… right?

That’s what he told himself. Over and over again. Until the lie started to sound like truth.

"I don’t care," he whispered, almost laughing. "I don’t—"

But his voice cracked.

He despised her. No, she disgusted him.

Was it really that hard? To just be with me and no one else?

Of course it had been easy before… Easy because he did whatever the hell he wanted—and she just... watched. Accepted it.

And now? Was she done watching?

Then the image of her kissing Ben flashed before his eyes, and just like that, the shame twisted into rage.

No more thinking.

No more aching.

Just rage.

Let it all fucking burn.

The disgust burned in his throat, bitter. And the hatred—it burned beneath his skin.

Yet again, she’d left him with that feeling—like only a shower could wash her off.

_________

His phone hadn’t stopped lighting up since the video dropped. Notifications pouring in all weekend, from teammates, classmates, people he hadn’t spoken to in months.

They just wanted the drama.

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