Chapter 6: Breaking the Plot

I was down for days. Then, something big happened in the complex.

The news spread like wildfire—everyone was talking about it in the laundry room and at the mailbox.

Demolition.

The whole place was getting torn down. Just like that.

For hard-working folks like Ms. Sanders, this was a dream come true—the city’s buyout meant we could afford a new apartment.

She called her sister in Ohio to brag, already making plans to redecorate. For her, it was the first good news in years.

But I couldn’t celebrate. This was how it went in the book: Nathan gets the money, starts a company, claws his way to the top—leaving a trail of blood behind.

I lay awake at night, wondering if the story was already slipping out of my hands.

But right now, he hadn’t killed anyone yet, so maybe he wouldn’t get the money. That comforted me—until I realized an even bigger problem.

Mr. Calloway.

That’s right, Nathan’s dad was out.

Officer Pierce said he’d been released a few days ago, but hadn’t come home. Now, with the demolition coming, who knew if he’d show up…

And sure enough, he did.

The moment he heard about the demolition, he rushed back. That night, Nathan came home too.

It was like the universe was conspiring to bring all the worst plot points together at once.

Hearing footsteps upstairs, I set aside my fears and stopped him at the door, pulling him into my apartment.

My hands shook as I grabbed his arm. He looked startled, but didn’t resist.

Two bedrooms and a small living room. Ms. Sanders in hers, me in mine. She worked early shifts, always in bed before ten. I pulled Nathan into my room, finger to my lips.

I held a finger to my lips, listening for any sign that my mom was awake. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the fridge.

He stood in front of me, silent but clearly confused.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the posters on my wall, the stack of textbooks on my desk.

"Your dad… is upstairs."

I knew how inappropriate it was to bring a guy home at night. Embarrassed, I pointed upstairs, whispering so Ms. Sanders wouldn’t hear.

My cheeks burned. I hoped he understood why I was breaking all the rules tonight.

A shadow crossed his face.

He looked down, jaw clenched. I could see the pain etched in every line.

His father. The root of everything. The reason for all this pain.

He said nothing, but didn’t leave either, standing with his head down, unreadable.

He shuffled his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets. I wondered what he was thinking—if he was angry, or just tired.

"The compensation’s coming soon. Your dad… probably wants the deed. I’m afraid you’ll fight again. If you don’t mind, stay here tonight. I’ll get you a blanket."

I spoke quickly, afraid he’d bolt. My voice was barely above a whisper.

The silence was brutal. Alone together, I was a mess—nervous, ready to bolt. But as I turned, he caught my wrist.

His hand was warm, his grip gentle but firm. My heart skipped a beat.

"Why…"

What?

I looked up, confused.

He pressed his lips together. His eyes—dark, deep, like a midnight sky. God, how had I never noticed?

They were mesmerizing—dark, thoughtful, full of secrets.

Sharp features, cool and handsome…

I blushed, suddenly aware of how close we were standing.

"Why are you helping me?"

He spoke coldly, as if he’d thought about it for a long time.

His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the question hung in the air between us.

I really wondered if he always spoke so slowly, one word at a time. But now wasn’t the time to analyze him—I was getting more and more flustered.

My mind raced, searching for an answer that wouldn’t sound stupid.

Like he could see right through me.

"I just… I don’t know. I just can’t stand seeing you like this."

"Why?"

Another why.

His guard was high. Hearing it didn’t make me sad—just made me want to cry.

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears. I wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but I didn’t know how.

His life had made him this way—growing up under torment, bristling with thorns, his only salvation not even his own light…

I couldn’t help myself. I blurted out—

"Because I like you."

I said it!

No take-backs now.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. I waited for him to laugh, to scoff, to walk away.

I actually said it!

The moment the words were out, I went rigid, staring at him, trying to look less nervous.

My cheeks were burning. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to stand my ground.

But to my surprise, Nathan was even more shocked than I was.

His eyes went wide. Like nobody had ever said that to him.

The sudden confession left him at a total loss.

He wasn’t bad-looking, but years of being treated like a freak had made him an outcast. Three years in juvie had erased his youth—how could he imagine anyone liking him?

He stared at me, stunned. I wondered if anyone had ever told him they cared before.

But I did.

I was sure it wasn’t pity anymore—it was love.

No turning back.

My heart was racing, but I didn’t regret a thing.

"Nathan, I like you."

The moment I finished, I regretted it.

I wanted to take it back, to hide under my covers and pretend none of this had happened.

He wasn’t a normal person—he was sensitive, and he already had someone in his heart. By pushing myself on him, I was only making things harder for him.

I fidgeted, head down, unsure how to continue.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

The air grew tense, my heart pounding.

"I’m sorry…"

Even though I knew it was coming, hearing it still weighed me down. I cut him off and said what every side character says.

I forced a smile, hoping he couldn’t see how much it hurt.

"It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. Really. I just… want to be here for you."

I knew he had someone in his heart, but I didn’t say it. In the book, he never confessed to the heroine, probably wanting to keep that feeling to himself.

If I weren’t in the story, I’d probably curse out the heroine. But as Emily Sanders, I understood Nathan’s devotion to Molly.

But I didn’t want him to get lost on that path.

To end up executed.

That thought made my eyes sting, tears streaming down. I couldn’t understand why a boy as gentle as him ended up like this.

He clearly didn’t get it. Didn’t know what to say. So he just… patted my head. Awkward, but gentle.

"Don’t cry."

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I sniffled, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

I stopped, looking up at his beautiful face through my tears.

He looked away, cheeks pink. Embarrassed? Overwhelmed? Maybe both.

"I…"

He clearly wanted to say something, but years of isolation had left him unsure how to respond. Watching his confusion, I suddenly laughed through my tears.

The sound surprised both of us. It felt good, like letting go of a weight I’d been carrying for years.

I’d been so influenced by the book, picturing him as a villain, I’d forgotten that right now, he was just an inexperienced boy.

He wasn’t lost yet—there was still hope.

"You don’t hate me, do you?"

I sniffled, watching him.

He shook his head, eyes wide. I felt a spark of hope flicker in my chest.

His pale face flushed under the warm light. He quickly looked away, hands fidgeting in front of him, unsure what to do.

He was kind of adorable, actually. Awkward, but sweet.

So innocent.

Compared to me, who’d lived two lives, I felt like an old lady—yet here I was, blushing and shy.

I shook my head, a mischievous thought popping up. I stepped closer and teased—

"So, I can still stay by your side, right?"

He didn’t answer—he ran away.

He bolted for the door, his ears red. I watched him go, laughing in spite of myself.

He left my place, didn’t go upstairs, probably to avoid his father. He disappeared for days.

I asked around, but no one had seen him. I worried, but tried not to let it show.

His father was frantic.

The deed was in Nathan’s name—his grandmother left it to him. Without his signature, no payout. His dad was furious, cursing up and down the halls. The neighbors were over it.

"That kid’s unlucky to have a dad like that!"

"Yeah, heard he did drugs too. His wife left because she couldn’t take it…"

"Enough, some families are just cursed."

The gossip was relentless. I tried to tune it out, but it followed me everywhere.