Part 21 ( Ellie )

The room feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating.

Juliet's words won't stop replaying in my head.

Figure it out before it's too late. I meant what I said. I'm done chasing.

I exhale sharply, my pulse hammering. My suit feels too warm, my skin too tight. I need to get out of here.

I push back from the bar abruptly. The stool scrapes against the floor, but I don't care. I don't think. I just move.

I don't even register the people I pass as I weave through the ballroom, my body running on autopilot. I barely hear Anthony calling my name, barely acknowledge the glances thrown my way as I make my way to the exit.

I'm outside. The cold air bites at my skin, but it does nothing to clear my head. My hands tremble as I yank my car door open, sliding inside, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles go white.

I can't be here. I can't fucking breathe in that room.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I drive to Bella's house.

-

The drive is a blur, but the buzzing under my skin won't stop. My pulse is erratic, my head too full, my body too restless. The scotch is still warm in my veins, not enough to make me drunk, but enough to make everything feel unsteady.

By the time I pull up to Bella's house, my hands are stiff around the wheel, my chest tight with something I don't know how to shake.

I step out of the car, My feet hit the pavement hard as I cross the driveway, my pulse thudding against my ribs.

Then I knock.

Hard.

Then again.

And again.

I shift on my feet, rubbing a hand over my face, my heart hammering.

A few seconds pass. Then I hear movement inside.

The door swings open, and Bella stands there, blinking at me, still half-asleep.

She's wearing one of my hoodies, the sleeves pushed up over her hands, her hair slightly messy. Her brows furrow as she takes in my suit, the tension in my shoulders, the slightly flushed look on my face.

"Ellie?" Her voice is groggy, confused.

I exhale sharply. "Hey."

She blinks, still looking me over, her head tilting slightly. "What are you doing here?"

I swallow hard. "I—I just needed to see you."

Her gaze sharpens, like she's trying to read between the lines. Then her eyes narrow slightly. "Are you drunk?"

I shake my head quickly. "No. Not really." I rub a hand down my face. "I had a couple drinks, but I'm fine."

Bella crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe, still looking at me carefully. "Ellie, it's late."

I nod, dragging my tongue over my teeth. "I know."

Her expression softens, but she doesn't step aside yet. "What happened?"

I exhale sharply. "Nothing—I just—" I shake my head, frustration curling in my gut. "I don't know. I didn't want to be there anymore."

Bella watches me for a second longer. Then she sighs and steps back.

"Come in."

I don't hesitate.

The warmth of her house hits me instantly, wrapping around me, but it doesn't chase away the tension in my chest. I toe off my shoes out of habit, running a hand through my hair as I step into the living room.

Bella closes the door behind me, then turns to face me again, her arms still crossed.

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at me.

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. "I just—" My fingers flex at my sides.

Something flickers across her face, something softer. But she doesn't move closer.

I exhale through my nose, my hands landing on my hips. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Bella's voice is quieter now. "Ellie."

I shake my head. "I should've stayed. I should've—" I drag a hand through my hair, my pulse still erratic. "I don't know."

Bella watches me carefully, then steps closer, her fingers reaching out to take my hand.

Her touch is warm.

I exhale, my shoulders sagging slightly.

"You don't have to explain anything right now," she murmurs, squeezing my fingers. "Just breathe, okay?"

I nod, swallowing hard.

She watches me for another second, then pulls me toward the couch.

"Sit down."

I do.

Bella disappears for a moment, then comes back with a glass of water, handing it to me without a word.

I take it, gripping it tightly as I exhale.

She sits beside me, close but not pressed against me, just enough to let me know she's here.

Neither of us speak for a while.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Figure it out before it's too late.

I shake my head. "Not yet."

She nods. "Okay."

I swallow, my throat dry. "Can I just—stay here tonight?"

Bella doesn't hesitate. "Of course."

I nod, exhaling softly.

She shifts closer, resting her head lightly against my shoulder.

-

I blink my eyes open. The faint scent of lavender clinging to the pillow beneath me. I hear the distant sound of a coffee maker, the quiet shuffle of movement just outside the room.

My body feels heavy, my mind thick with sleep.

I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, my breathing slow and even. The weight in my chest has dulled, the frantic, restless energy from last night settling into something quieter.

The memories come flooding back.

The gala. The suffocating weight of too many people, too many conversations. The way my skin had felt too tight, my suit too warm.

Juliet.

Figure it out before it's too late. I meant what I said. I'm done chasing.

Her voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife, sharp and unrelenting. The hazy comfort of sleep slipping away.

I sit up abruptly, blinking against the morning light filtering through the curtains. My head doesn't pound, because I wasn't drunk, not really, but there's a dull pressure behind my eyes, the lingering exhaustion of a night that ended with more questions than answers.

I rub a hand over my face, dragging my fingers through my hair as I glance around.

Bella's room.

That's right. I came here.

I exhale slowly, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. My suit jacket is draped over the chair by the desk, my watch resting on the nightstand. The top few buttons of my shirt are undone, my sleeves pushed up to my elbows.

I frown slightly. I don't remember lying down. I don't remember falling asleep. I barely remember closing my eyes at all.

Before I can linger on the thought, the door creaks open.

I glance up just as Bella steps inside, balancing a tray in her hands.

She's changed into a clean hoodie, mine, again, I think—and a pair of loose shorts. Her hair is slightly damp, like she's fresh out of a shower, and she looks awake in that way morning people do.

Her brows lift slightly when she sees me sitting up. "You're finally awake."

I blink at her, still slightly disoriented. "Yeah."

Bella walks over, setting the tray down on the nightstand beside me. "Figured you could use something to eat."

I glance at the tray, toast, eggs, some fruit, and a steaming mug of coffee.

My chest loosens slightly.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling. "You didn't have to do that."

Bella shrugs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to."

She watches me for a second, her gaze careful, searching.

"How are you feeling?"

I hesitate, my fingers tightening slightly around the blanket.

I don't know how to answer that.

I reach for the coffee, lifting the mug to my lips.

Bella doesn't push. She just waits.

Finally, I exhale, my voice quieter than before. "I don't know."

Bella nods slowly, like she expected that.

"You were out cold when moved you to the bed last night," she says after a moment. "Didn't even wake up when I made you lie down properly."

I glance at her. "I don't remember falling asleep."

She smirks slightly. "Yeah, I figured."

I huff out a breath that isn't quite a laugh, setting the mug back down.

Bella watches me for another second, then nudges the tray toward me. "Eat something. You'll feel better."

I nod absently, picking up a piece of toast. But even as I chew, Juliet's voice is still there, still lingering, still threading through my thoughts like a ghost I can't shake.

And I don't know if I want to.

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

The only sound is the occasional clink of Bella's spoon against her coffee cup. The food sits untouched in front of me, the scent of fresh toast and coffee filling the air.

I just sit there, staring at my plate, my fingers curled loosely around the edge of the blanket. My mind feels like it's moving in slow motion, thoughts dragging like they're caught in quicksand.

I hear Bella sigh beside me. "Ellie."

I don't look at her.

"Eat."

The word is gentle, but firm.

I swallow, my throat tight. My chest feels like it's caving in.

And before I can stop myself, before I can even think about what I'm saying—

"I kissed Juliet."

The words drop into the room like a grenade.

At first, nothing happens.

Silence.

Total, absolute silence.

Bella doesn't react. Not immediately.

She sits there, still as stone, her coffee cup halfway to her lips, her expression frozen in place. It's like she didn't hear me. Like her brain hasn't registered the words yet.

I almost wish I could take them back.

Almost.

Her hand tightens around the handle of the mug. Her fingers go white.

And the second it sinks in, The mug shatters.

She doesn't throw it. She doesn't slam it down. It just breaks in her grip, ceramic splintering apart, coffee spilling over the tray, over the bed, over her hand.

But she doesn't flinch. She doesn't even look at it.

Her breathing has changed.

I barely have time to process before she moves.

The tray is the first thing to go.

It crashes to the floor with a deafening bang, plates and silverware scattering, food splattering across the wood. The coffee drips down onto the rug, dark against the light fabric.

Then the lamp.

It happens in a blink. One second, it's sitting on the nightstand. The next, Bella has swept it off with one violent motion, the glass shattering against the wall.

My pulse spikes. "Bella."

She's already standing.

Already moving.

Her breathing is ragged, her shoulders rising and falling with every inhale. Her hands clench into fists, shaking at her sides.

The framed picture on the dresser. Gone.

The vase by the door. Gone.

I don't recognize this version of her.

Bella is calm. Bella is steady. Bella is the one who never loses control.

But right now?

Right now, she looks like she wants to burn the entire world down.

"You what?" Her voice is hoarse, sharp, like it's been ripped out of her throat.

I swallow hard.

"You kissed her?"

I exhale, running a shaky hand through my hair. "It just happened."

Her laugh is sharp, broken. "It just happened." She repeats it like it's something filthy. Like the words themselves taste like ash.

I stand, slowly, cautiously, like I'm approaching a wild animal. "Bella, i'm sorry. I love you."

"No." Her voice is raw, furious. "No, don't. Don't do that."

I hesitate, my chest tight. "I didn't mean it for it to happen. I was just caught up in the moment."

"Don't you dare give me that pathetic excuse."

Her voice cracks at the edges.

She takes a step back, her hands trembling. Her face is twisted, a mix of betrayal, disbelief, something shattered beyond repair.

"I thought—" Her voice drops lower, but it's no softer. It's worse. "I thought I was enough for you."

My stomach clenches. "You are."

Bella lets out a sharp, shaking breath. "No. No, I'm not."

I step forward, desperate. "Bells."

She moves back.

Her hands go up.

Like she doesn't want me near her. Like she can't stand the sight of me.

Her breaths are uneven, her eyes shining, her entire body still trembling with rage.

I open my mouth to speak.

I don't know what happens or how it happens.

One second, Bella is staring at me, her chest heaving, her hands shaking, her entire body tense like she's about to explode.

And the next there's a sharp sting on my cheek.

My head turns with the force of it, my body swaying slightly.

I don't register it at first.

The room tilts, but not from the scotch, not from exhaustion, just from this.

From her.

A slap.

Bella slapped me.

I blink, my jaw tight, my ears ringing, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs.

My skin burns.

It's not the pain that gets me. It's the fact of it.

The fact that she did it.

Bella, who has never once raised her voice at me the way she did tonight.

Bella, who has never hurt me, not in any way that mattered.

She looks just as shocked as I am.

Her hands are still trembling, her fingers curled inward like she can't believe what they just did.

"Oh my god," she breathes, her voice small, broken. "Ellie—"

I still don't move.

Her eyes are wide, frantic, regret already twisting through her features. "I—oh my god, I didn't—"

I still don't move. I can hear her voice, but I can't process it.

Something inside me feels frozen. Like I've stepped outside of myself. Like I'm watching this happen from somewhere else, somewhere far away.

My cheek stings.

My chest stings.

I need to go. I need to go.

I turn on autopilot. My hands move without thinking, grabbing my stuff, snatching up my jacket, my keys, my phone.

Bella keeps talking, but I can't hear her.

I can't hear her.

My heart is pounding in my ears, drowning out every word she's saying, every frantic apology spilling from her lips.

I walk.

She moves toward me, her hands reaching out. "Ellie, please—"

I step around her. I don't look at her.

I just walk through the living room.

I barely make it past the threshold before I hear her move.

A sharp shuffle, the sound of bare feet against hardwood, she's running towards her door.

The door slams shut.

The lock clicks into place.

My grip tightens around my jacket.

My whole body still wired with shock, and find Bella standing there,her back pressed against the door, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hands still trembling.

She looks wrecked.

Her face is flushed, her eyes wide and frantic, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her lips are parted like she can't catch her breath, like the words are stuck somewhere in her throat.

She starts, voice hoarse, shaking. "Ellie, I—"

I clench my jaw, my muscles locking tight. "Open the door, Bella."

She flinches, her whole body jerking like I hit her instead.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, her voice cracking on the words. "Oh my god, I didn't mean—"

"Open the fucking door."

Bella shakes her head rapidly, stepping forward, reaching for me like she can undo what just happened, like she can fix this. "Please, just wait—"

I step back. Her breath stutters.

The distance between us isn't much, but it feels like a canyon.

I swallow hard, my hands tightening into fists at my sides. My cheek still burns, my head still reeling, my body still caught somewhere between fight and flight.

She hit me.

She locked me in.

What the fuck is happening?

Bella wipes at her face, her hands shaking violently. "I don't know why I did that, I wasn't thinking, I swear—"

I exhale sharply, running a hand over my mouth, trying to steady myself, trying to keep the words in my head from coming out too raw, too jagged.

She's crying. She's breaking down right in front of me.

But I can't feel anything except the phantom sting on my cheek. Except the weight of her voice, shaking, pleading.

"Ellie, please talk to me."

I exhale through my nose, my head tilting back slightly as I stare at the ceiling, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto.

She locked me in. I can't fucking leave.

"Unlock the door, Bella."

She shakes her head, her hands moving to her temples, gripping at her hair. "No, not like this. I can't let you just walk away like this."

I let out a hollow, humorless laugh. "So you're holding me hostage now?"

Her face twists, guilt hitting her like a gut punch. "No! No, i just flipped out when you told me you kissed her."

"Unlock the fucking door."

She presses her palms together, holding them against her mouth, like she's trying to stop herself from breaking even further.

"I don't want to lose you."

I shut my eyes for a brief second.

Too late.

She sniffles, wiping at her face with her sleeves, her whole body still trembling.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just snapped, I don't—" She shakes her head, a desperate, helpless sound escaping her lips.

I take a slow, controlled breath, forcing my hands to relax. "Bella."

She lifts her head, wide, tear-streaked eyes meeting mine.

"Unlock the door."

Her face crumbles.

But her fingers move.

The lock clicks.

I don't hesitate.

I step forward, reaching for the handle, my entire body tense, my pulse still too loud in my ears.

She grabs my wrist.

"Please don't go."

I stop. Not because I want to. Not because I hesitate.

But because for a brief, fleeting second, I don't recognize her voice.

It's small. Shaking. Completely, utterly wrecked.

Like she already knows this is it.

I turn my head slightly, meeting her gaze one last time.

And all I see is ruin.

I pull my wrist from her grip.

And I walk out the door.

-

I get in the car.

I start the engine.

I pull out of Bella's driveway, the streets are blurring past, the city flickering through my windshield like an afterimage of something I can't hold onto.

I just drive.

No real direction. No real destination.

The streetlights stretch out in long, distorted lines as I speed past them, my foot heavier on the gas than it should be.

I can still feel it.

The sting. A sharp, burning imprint on my cheek, fading but still there.

I blink hard, jaw clenching.

She didn't mean it.

The thought slides in before I can stop it.

It wasn't like she planned it.

It wasn't like she wanted to hit me.

She snapped.

People snap all the time.

I force a slow breath through my nose, fingers flexing on the wheel.

She was angry. She was hurt.

I kissed Juliet. I cheated on her.

My stomach churns. I loosen my grip just slightly, just enough to flex my fingers before tightening them again.

What did I expect?

That she'd just sit there? That she'd just nod, swallow it down, pretend it didn't fucking matter?

I betrayed her.

The person who has always been there for me. The person who chose me, again and again.

And I threw that in her face.

My jaw locks, a sharp pulse of self-loathing settling in my ribs.

Of course she was angry. Of course she lost it.

She loves me.

Loved.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat burning.

She slapped me, yeah.

But wasn't I the one who broke something first?

My hands tighten on the wheel.

She didn't mean it.

I keep repeating it, over and over, like if I say it enough times, I'll start to believe it.

The way she looked at me.

The way she locked the door.

The way her hands shook after.

My stomach shifts, dark and uneasy.

I drag a hand over my face, inhaling sharply.

Maybe it doesn't matter what she meant. Maybe all that matters is that she did it.

And I let her.

I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. The red mark is still faintly there, fading now, but my skin remembers.

My body remembers.

And my mind won't let me forget.

I press down on the gas.

I need to figure out what the fuck happens next.