CHAPTER 15: CHAPTER 15: WHEN THE TRUTH HURTS MORE

I got to school earlier than usual, hoping to see Nicki. I wanted to talk things through, explain myself, maybe even fix whatever went wrong. But when I asked a few of our classmates about him, they said he’d already left. That was strange. He never missed morning classes.

I checked the library, and he wasn’t there. I went to the school café, hoping to find him sipping his usual black coffee. Nothing. I searched every corner of the campus we used to hang out at, but it was as if he’d vanished.

I tried calling him. No response. I texted him again and again, but there was no reply.

Worried, confused, and desperate, I drove straight to his apartment. I knocked. I waited. No answer. The lights were off, and the silence behind the door was deafening.

That’s when I sent him a message short, pleading: Please, can we talk? I want to see you. Just come to my place.

I drove back home to wait for him. This time, it was already getting late, but I didn’t care. I’d searched for him all day, his usual spots, the gym, even that rundown cafe he always claimed had the best coffee in town. But nothing. No trace.

Now, the house felt cold and too quiet as I paced the floor, my thoughts louder than any noise could ever be.

Where are you, Nicki?

Every minute stretched like an hour. I kept glancing at the door, listening for the sound of keys or footsteps. But silence answered every time.

And yet, I stayed up because something inside me said he’d come back.

So I waited.

Hours passed. The sun went down, and the loneliness in my apartment felt heavier than usual. I kept staring at the door, hoping it would open. Each creak in the hallway outside made my heart jump. But nothing.

By late night, I had almost given up hope.

Then, the door clicked open.

He had my spare key. Of course, he did.

Nicki walked in slowly, expression unreadable. His presence filled the room, but something about him felt cold, unfamiliar. I rushed toward him.

"Nicki, I’ve been calling and texting all day.

Why didn’t you pick up?" I asked, my voice breaking under the weight of worry.

He just stared at me with eyes that felt like a storm calm on the outside but wild and unreadable inside.

Then he asked, "How do you feel now?"

That caught me off guard. I swallowed and forced a small smile. "I’m fine now. Better."

I should have yelled. I should have asked why he never visited me at the hospital, why he disappeared when I needed him most. But all of that vanished the moment I saw him standing there. I was just glad he came.

Then I asked him what I did wrong. Why did he pull away. Why was he acting like a stranger. But he told me I hadn’t done anything.

I kept talking, my words tumbling over themselves trying to convince him, or maybe myself, that whatever had happened between us could be fixed. That the past was behind us, and we could move on.

He didn’t say a word.

He just kept staring at me intensely, silently his gaze lingering far too long on my lips. I could feel it, that heat in his eyes, unspoken but unmistakable. He wanted it. He wanted me.

I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly, my mouth found his. I kissed him softly at first as if asking for permission.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t push me off. He kissed me back.

And just like that, we ended up on the couch. Our bodies remembered the rhythm even if our hearts didn’t. We made love like we used to, as if nothing had changed. Afterwards, we lay on the couch, still naked, our bodies close, but our hearts miles apart.

I thought that was it. That we were okay. That things were finally falling back into place.

But then I asked him, "Did you enjoy it? Because I did."

He didn’t hesitate.

"I felt nothing," he said coldly. "Just the usual. Same as with anyone else."

I froze.

The words hit harder than a slap. No hesitation. No remorse. Just brutal honesty, like I was no different from a stranger he’d forget tomorrow.

"What?"

He stood up and started dressing without looking at me. "I came here to officially end things. I brought your key. I won’t be coming back. Don’t call me. Don’t text."

My voice trembled as I stood up. "Nicki, what are you saying? We just made love, does that mean nothing to you?"

He didn’t even flinch. "It doesn’t. Not to me."

My heart sank, but I pushed further. "Why, Nicki? What changed?"

Then he said the one thing I never expected.

"Your father reached out to me."

Silence...

"He asked me to leave you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed like thunder in my chest. "He offered me money... a lot of it. Enough to change everything. And I agreed."

He didn’t look at me when he said it. His eyes were fixed somewhere behind me, like facing me would make it too real. Like looking into my face would remind him of what he’d thrown away.

"I told myself it was just a temporary thing that I could make it right later. But the truth is I betrayed you the moment I didn’t say no."

I felt the room spin. "My father...?"

"Yes."

"How much did he offer you?" I whispered. "I’ll pay you. I’ll give you the money so you can return it to him. Please."

He shook his head. "I already signed the contract. There’s no going back."

I stared at him, disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave. "So you sold our love for money?"

He smiled faintly. "I sold your love, not mine. I never really loved you."

Those words shattered me.

"I stayed because you treated me in a way no one else ever did," he continued. "I liked the way you adored me. But I was never in love with you. When a bigger opportunity came, I took it."

Hearing him speak, I couldn’t hold it anymore. My voice cracked as I shouted, "You’re so shameless, Nicki! You could’ve just asked me for money!"

He chuckled bitterly. "The amount your father offered... would’ve ruined your bank account."

I stared at him. At the man I thought I knew. At the man I loved.

And in that moment, all I felt was regret.

"I wish I never met you," I said, voice low but filled with all the anger and pain I could muster.

Then louder: "Leave. Get out of my house."

My voice wasn’t strong. It trembled, but it was enough. He didn’t argue. He dropped the keycard on the table and turned away.

He walked out the door without a single glance back.

No apology.

No explanation.

Just silence.

And I stood there... broken, alone, and unable to understand how love could turn into this.

At this point, I couldn’t cry anymore. It was as if my tears had run dry, drained completely by the night’s final betrayal. I just sat there, naked on the couch where we once shared everything, where I thought love still lived between us. The silence was heavy, suffocating. But beneath it all, I felt something I didn’t expect.

Relief.

A strange kind of peace washed over me, not because of what had happened, but because I finally knew the truth. Nicki didn’t deserve my tears. He never did.

He had chosen money over love. Sold what I thought we had to the highest bidder, my own father. That truth burned, but it also freed me.

I leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes, my chest rising and falling in deep, shaky breaths. At least I know now. That thought echoed through me like a quiet drum. At least I know he wasn’t real.

But the room still smelled like him. His scent clung to the sheets, to my skin, to everything. I wanted to scrub it off, erase every trace, but I didn’t move. I needed time to feel everything. And then let it go.

As the night dragged into early morning, I sat in that numb state barely blinking, barely thinking until the exhaustion finally pushed me into a restless sleep on the same couch we once cuddled on

When sunlight crept through the blinds, casting pale lines across the floor, I knew what I had to do.

I got up, took a long, scalding shower, and dressed quietly. My movements were slow but not weak. I wasn’t broken. Not anymore. I was hurt, yes, but something inside me had hardened. And it kept me standing.

Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and drove back home.

Not Nicki’s place. Not my apartment in the city.

Home.

Where my father lived.

Where I had questions to ask and a storm to bring.

To be continued...