Chapter 4: Losing Him Twice

After being reborn, I accepted the family engagement. Mason went along with it, too.

We did what was expected, playing our parts like actors in a well-worn script. I thought maybe this time, things would be different. I was wrong.

Even though he was distant, I didn’t lose hope. I was sure that if I worked hard enough, I’d get what I wanted. I kept trying.

I poured everything into us—every late-night talk, every carefully planned date. But love isn’t a math problem; effort doesn’t always add up to happiness. I wish someone had told me.

But it turns out, my joyful reunion was just a mistake. It was never real.

I see that now. Some things can’t be forced, no matter how much you want them. I finally get it.

Mason isn’t incapable of love—he just doesn’t love me. That’s the truth.

That truth hurt more than anything. I’d spent years trying to be the exception, but I was just another lesson. I was just practice.

When the real lead, Sierra Moreno, showed up, she drew all of Mason’s attention.

It was instant, electric. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and I was left in the shadows. I faded out.

I was like a thief, stealing the love that belonged to her before she arrived. It was never mine.

It was a guilty kind of love, built on borrowed time. I could feel it slipping away, piece by piece. I let it go.

Now that she’s back, I look so petty and pitiful. I hate it.

I hated that feeling—the way people pitied me, the way I pitied myself. I wanted to be stronger, but I was just tired. So tired.

That night’s performance made Sierra the star. From then on, Mason, who never liked social events, started showing up at every gala. He was always there.

He was always there, lurking at the back or standing by the punch bowl. People noticed, of course. They started pairing their names together in conversation, as if it was already decided. I couldn’t stop it.

Every time Sierra performed, eight times out of ten she’d pick Mason from the audience. Everyone saw it.

It became a running joke—how many times would Mason get called up tonight? He never refused. I stopped waiting for him to look my way. I stopped hoping.

It didn’t take long for rumors to start. They always do.

The whispers grew louder, turning into stories, then into facts. People love a good romance, even if it comes at someone else’s expense. Especially then.

Some people told Mason to refuse, but he said he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

He always had an excuse—politeness, kindness, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. But I knew better. It was easier to say yes than to admit what he really wanted. He wanted her.

She just smiled, even when people called her fake. She was bold, unbothered. I envied her confidence, her ability to brush off criticism like lint from her dress. I wanted that.

The worst was when the host egged them on to kiss on stage. The two of them—her in red, him in black—looked perfect together. They belonged together.

They were picture-perfect, the kind of couple you see in movie posters. I felt invisible, a shadow in the wings. I faded out.

“Jules, I’m heading out. If Mason asks, tell him I wasn’t feeling well.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but Julia heard the crack anyway. She reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. She always knew.

“Elena…” She wanted to fix it. She couldn’t.

Julia, my best friend, hesitated. She always did in moments like this, torn between loyalty and helplessness. I loved her for trying. Even when she couldn’t fix anything.

That’s when I realized my fingernails had dug bloody marks into my arm—a bad habit I picked up as a kid whenever I got anxious. Old habits, old pain.

I glanced down, surprised by the crescent moons of blood. Old habits die hard, especially when the world feels like it’s caving in. I didn’t even notice.

I looked up in silence, just in time to meet Mason’s gaze. He was watching.

He was watching me, for once. There was something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. It didn’t matter anymore. Too little, too late.

He held her by the waist. When he met my eyes, he instinctively let go, frowning.

For a heartbeat, I thought he might come after me. But he stayed put, torn between two worlds. He never chose me.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but I’d already turned to leave. I was done waiting.

I didn’t give him the chance. Some doors are better left closed. I walked away.

I took a deep breath and threw the bracelet on my wrist into the campus lake.

The splash was small, barely a ripple. I watched it sink, disappearing into the dark water. It felt like letting go of a piece of myself. I needed that.

It was a gift from Mason, from the first time he posted about me on his Instagram story. Back when things felt possible.

He’d surprised me with it, a little blue box tied with silver ribbon. I wore it everywhere, a silent promise on my wrist. Not anymore.

I’d treasured it, worn it every day—it was practically my signature. Now it was gone.

People noticed, asked about it. I always smiled, proud to say it was from Mason. Now, it just felt heavy. Too heavy to keep.

But just now, I’d seen the same bracelet on Sierra’s wrist. Of course she had one, too.

It caught the light when she moved, a perfect match to mine. The realization hit me like a slap. He gave her one, too.

That brand was expensive—way out of a scholarship student’s reach. It was obvious who had given it to her. I knew right away.

There was no mistaking it. Mason had a type—he liked to spoil the girls he cared about. I just wasn’t the only one anymore. I was never the only one.

Sierra didn’t just want Mason to choose her over me—she wanted to take everything he’d ever given me. She wanted it all.

She was thorough, I’ll give her that. It wasn’t enough to win; she had to erase me, too. She did it well.

Maybe, from the moment she appeared, I’d already lost. I just didn’t know it yet.

Some stories are over before they even begin. I just hadn’t noticed the ending sneaking up on me. Now I see it.

I’d spent years devoted to Mason because he’d once saved my life. But now, I was finally tired. Tired of loving alone.

Love shouldn’t feel like a punishment. I was ready to stop running in circles. I was ready to stop.

I didn’t regret loving boldly before. But I know when to love, and when to let go. This was goodbye.

It’s a lesson I learned the hard way. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away. I was ready.

I think…it’s time to move on. Finally.

I whispered it to myself, letting the words settle. It felt right—like the first step toward something new. It was time.