Chapter 5: When Love Isn’t Enough

After that photo sat on the Confessions Page for half a day, it was suddenly deleted. Just like that, it was gone.

The silence that followed was almost louder than the chaos before. People noticed, of course, but the damage was already done. Some things can’t be erased.

Mason did it. He always cleaned up the mess.

He had the connections, the pull. If Mason wanted something gone, it disappeared—no questions asked. He made things disappear.

He called me, his voice cold: “Did you tell your friends to start drama in the comments?”

His words were sharp, cutting. I could hear the accusation before he even finished the sentence. He didn’t trust me.

How long had it been since I’d heard him sound this impatient with me? Too long.

He used to be gentle, careful with my feelings. Now, he sounded like a stranger. He was someone else.

“No.” My answer was simple, honest. But I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He never did.

He didn’t believe me. “Several of those accounts are your friends. Didn’t you put them up to it?”

I could hear the frustration in his voice, the way he’d already made up his mind. There was no point arguing. He’d already decided.

Out of more than five hundred comments, only two were from friends who couldn’t stand it anymore. But now Mason was blaming everything on me. It was easier for him.

It was easier for him, I guess. Blame the girl who stayed, not the one who left. He always picked the easy way.

I could hear a girl crying softly in the background, and Mason comforting her in a gentle voice. He never sounded like that with me.

He lowered his voice, soothing. I’d never heard him sound so tender—not with me, anyway. It stung.

He was so gentle with Sierra, but when he turned back to me, he was all accusations: “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t do it again. You’re a girl too—no need to be so petty just because you’re jealous. Elena, you’ve really disappointed me. You’re not the girl I thought you were.”

His words stung, sharp as a slap. I bit my lip, holding back tears. It wasn’t worth it—not anymore. Not for him.

After hanging up, I sat at my desk, dazed. I felt empty.

The room was quiet, the only sound the hum of my laptop. I stared at the wall, numb. Nothing made sense anymore.

The person he first met? What did Mason think of me back then? Did he ever really know me?

I let my mind drift, back to a time when things were simpler—when hope still felt possible. Before everything changed.

That was right after the SATs, when the Blake family moved north for business. Our families met up to discuss the engagement. I was so young.

It was a fancy dinner, the kind where the napkins are folded into swans and everyone speaks in polite code. I was nervous, fidgeting with my bracelet under the table. I felt out of place.

The Blakes wanted Mason and me to attend the same university to get to know each other, get engaged after graduation, and marry the following year.

The plan was laid out like a roadmap—no detours allowed. I smiled and nodded, trying to look excited. I was trapped.

When it was just the two of us left in the private dining room, Mason said, “Elena Harper? Your name’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. I felt my cheeks burn, embarrassed and a little angry. He liked getting a reaction.

That was the first thing he ever said to me. Then he asked, “Racing? Rock climbing? Skiing? What can you do?” He wanted me to prove myself.

He rattled off the list like a challenge, daring me to impress him. I shrank back, unsure what to say. I wasn’t what he wanted.

I have health issues. My family doesn’t let me do dangerous sports. I hated admitting it.

My voice was small, apologetic. I hated how timid I sounded. I wanted to disappear.

Mason was handsome, his smile careless. “Oh, I get it. You’re into artsy stuff, right? Piano? Painting?”

He said it with a sneer, like being creative was something to be ashamed of. I wanted to disappear. I shrank back.

I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. It stung.

It lingered in the air, heavy and cold. I looked down at my hands, wishing I could be anyone else.

He lifted my chin and said, “You’re cute, but I like wild girls.”

The words stung, more than I wanted to admit. I tried to laugh it off, but it stuck with me. I never forgot.

That night, my excitement at seeing him again was met with his disdain. I felt foolish.

I cried in the car on the way home, wiping away tears before my parents could see. I promised myself I’d do better, be better. For him.

I’d tried so hard because of what Mason said. Learned how to do smoky-eye makeup, wore strappy camisoles, practiced hip-hop routines. Made a mess of myself—all for that word, “wild.”

I watched YouTube tutorials late into the night, bought outfits I’d never dare wear before. I thought if I could just change enough, he’d notice me. He never did.

But seeing Sierra now, I finally understood what he meant. Wild wasn’t about looks—it was about being confident, bold, passionate, daring. She had it. I didn’t.

She had a fire I could never fake. It wasn’t something you could buy or learn—it was just who she was. I envied her.

But I’m quiet and reserved—the exact type Mason dislikes most. I can’t change that.

I tried to be someone else, but in the end, I always came back to me. It wasn’t enough.

Mason doesn’t remember saving me in a past life. To him, this engagement is just settling. He doesn’t know.

It’s just a checkbox, a way to keep the families happy. I was never the girl he dreamed about. I was just convenient.

I used to be proud that, after three years, I’d finally gotten Mason to be gentle with me. But it turns out, some people only need a single glance to win all his affection. Sierra didn’t have to try.

It’s funny, isn’t it? You can spend years building something, only to watch it crumble in an instant. But maybe, just maybe, that’s how you know it was never real to begin with. Maybe it never was.