LIAM
I couldn't breathe.
Not because of the busted rib or the blood still drying on my lip—but because of the look on her face when I said the words.
"Don't be silly. You'll never be my type."
I'd watched it all drain from her—the warmth, the joy, the spark that made Zara… Zara. I didn't just break her heart. I shattered it, piece by piece, right there in that stupid locker room.
And I knew—God, I knew—I'd never forget it.
Now I was lying here, stiff on the hard hospital mattress, throat dry, fingers twitching like they needed to do something—anything—to undo what I'd done. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the sheets. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor at my side felt like some cruel reminder that I was still alive when part of me wished I wasn't.
Nick had made sure I felt every ounce of what I'd done.
His fists did what his words couldn't. And I hadn't fought back. Not once.
I let him break me. Because I deserved it.
It happened earlier that morning, the sun barely up when I stepped out of the house. I hadn't slept all night. Just laid there replaying every moment, every smile she gave me, every time she called me "Hunter" like it annoyed her—but secretly, I knew she liked it.
I'd kept thinking: Maybe if I just explain. Maybe if I go to her house…
But then I saw him.
Nick.
He was already waiting at the end of my driveway, hoodie over his head, fists clenched at his sides. Kaylee must've told him everything.
"Nick," I started, lifting my hands. "Just hear me—"
But the punch came fast. I felt my jaw crack sideways before I hit the ground.
He didn't yell.
Didn't curse me out.
He just kept punching.
"You used her," he said between swings, voice trembling with rage. "She trusted you."
I spat blood onto the concrete, blinking up at the morning sky.
"I didn't mean to…" I rasped. "It wasn't supposed to go this far."
He grabbed my shirt and pulled me up to slam me against my car.
"Wasn't supposed to go this far? You played her. Lied to her. And she fell for you—hard."
My knees buckled. I barely stayed upright.
"She still defends you, Liam. Even after what you did."
The cops arrived right as I dropped to the ground again. Neighbors were watching. Someone screamed. Red and blue lights flashed across the street as Nick was pulled off me, wrists cuffed behind his back.
"Arrest me. Fine," he spat at the officers. "He deserves worse."
They took him in.
I got rushed to the ER.
Now, hours later, I laid here, aching in ways no medication could numb.
The doctor said I had a mild concussion. Bruised ribs. A split lip and a cut above my brow that required stitches. I could barely move my jaw.
But none of it compared to the weight sitting on my chest.
I turned slowly onto my side, biting down on a groan of pain, and reached for my phone. It was still where the nurse left it, untouched. I swiped it open, thumb hovering over Zara's contact.
I wanted to call her.
To say I was sorry.
To tell her I'd never meant for it to be real—but it had become real.
But what would I even say?
*Hey, remember when I humiliated you in front of the whole school to please Beatrice? Turns out I actually fell in love with you.*
I didn't deserve her forgiveness.
Hell, I didn't even deserve to say her name.
I scrolled instead to our pictures. The ones I secretly took when she wasn't looking. The ones she laughed at when I asked for silly selfies. The one from the ice cream shop, where her nose was pink from cold and her smile was wide and pure.
God, she looked happy.
I ruined that.
I tapped through the photos slowly. Her laugh echoed in my head, mingling with Beatrice's voice from prom night.
"Don't mess this up, Liam."
"She's not one of us."
"This was your idea, remember?"
I thought I could walk the line. Pretend to play the game while keeping her heart safe. But the truth is, I never should've touched her heart at all.
Because I couldn't protect it—not from Beatrice.
Not from my friends.
Not from myself.
A knock at the door startled me. I winced as I tried to sit up.
My mom peeked in. "The police dropped off a report. They said Nick's out on bail. And that… they're not pressing charges. He's just getting community service."
I nodded slowly. That was fair. He didn't deserve punishment. He'd done what I hadn't: fought for her.
"He was right," I muttered, staring down at the cast on my wrist.
My mom didn't reply. She just looked at me like she didn't recognize me anymore.
Maybe I didn't either.
Because the truth was, I wasn't Liam Hunter—star athlete, prom king, Mr. Untouchable.
Not anymore.
I was just a boy who broke the only girl who ever made him feel seen.
And I didn't know if I'd ever forgive myself for it