I slid my finger down the screen, expecting more of the familiar, comforting words. But then, a new section appeared, a stark, unread block of text at the bottom. My smile faltered. The date stamp was recent. Very recent. This wasn' t an old entry. This was… current.
A chill snaked up my spine. My fingers, now numb, scrolled faster.
It was Finn' s voice, but not his usual confident tone. It was raw, vulnerable, grappling with something new. He described Carly. Her laugh. The way she moved on stage. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about dance. He was falling, head over heels, and he was terrified.
The entries continued, a chronological descent into betrayal. His confusion turning into certainty. His guilt morphing into a desperate longing for her. And Carly's responses, hidden in the comments section, equally conflicted, equally passionate.
I remembered the sudden outings they' d started taking, the "dance rehearsals" that lasted late into the night, the way their eyes would meet across a room, holding a secret language I hadn't understood. I remembered the times I had felt like an afterthought, a shadow in their vibrant orbit. I had dismissed it, blaming my own insecurities, but the evidence was now glaring, screaming at me from the screen.
I had been so naive, so blind. The quiet girl from foster care, always expecting the worst, yet somehow missing the most obvious signs of her world collapsing around her.
The last entry was dated yesterday. Finn wrote, "I can't pretend anymore. I'm going to tell Elva tomorrow, on her birthday. It's cruel, but it's crueler to keep lying. Carly deserves to know I choose her. Elva deserves the truth."
The screen flickered. My phone buzzed, vibrating violently on the desk. Finn. His name flashed, a stark white against the dark screen.
I curled into myself, a shudder running through my body. Cold sweat pricked my skin. The truth, raw and ugly, was laid bare. I had known, hadn't I? Deep down, in that quiet, insecure place, I had always known this was coming. This was why I had reached out to my mentor, this was why I had always kept a small part of myself guarded, ready to retreat.
The phone rang again, insistent. He was calling to tell me. To break my heart, calmly, deliberately, on my birthday. I couldn't face it. I couldn't bear to hear those words from his lips, to see the pity in his eyes.
My hand flew to the laptop, pressing 'send' on the NOAA contract. It was done. Irrevocable.
Please, I prayed, a silent plea to a nameless god, don' t let him find me. Let me go quietly. Let them be happy.
The phone continued its shrill protest, an annoying, grating sound. I grabbed it, not answering, and threw it onto the bed. Then, I buried my face in the pillows, muffling the world, muffling the pain. The ringing slowly faded, replaced by the deafening roar of my own shattered heart.
The truth hurt more than any lie. It burned, searing my soul. This was it. The end of my found family, the end of my love story. The tears came, hot and furious, soaking my pillow, a silent farewell to a life that was now lost to me.
