Chapter 4: Off Script, On My Own

Thank God I didn’t go back. There’s no way I’m following the script from those comments.

I let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding through me. Screw that—my life was my own, not some audience’s plaything. Let them write their own drama.

“Bzzzt—”

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. Autumn was calling on video.

The screen lit up with her name, the little heart emoji she’d stuck there months ago. For a second, I almost didn’t answer.

[Heroine big-brain time—using the villain to see if anyone noticed the cash is gone. Stan her!]

[Border run loading... Don’t screw this up, villain!]

Glancing at the nonstop stream of comments, I answered, keeping my face blank.

I took a deep breath and tapped “accept,” forcing my expression into total poker face. My brain was buzzing, but I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of seeing me rattle.

She really was the heroine the comments described.

There she was, framed by the soft glow of a hotel lamp, features sharp and flawless. She had that movie-star thing—like she belonged on a billboard, not in my busted-up life.

Autumn stood tall, skin like porcelain, jet-black hair pulled into a simple bun. She gave off a cool, aloof vibe that was straight-up mesmerizing.

Even through the grainy video, her beauty was magnetic. The kind of presence that makes you forget your own name for a second. But her eyes—cold, calculating—reminded me who she really was.

No wonder I’d been into her for so many years. Anyone would be enchanted by her.

I remembered the first time I saw her at a campus mixer, laughing with friends, totally out of my league. I’d fallen hard, never thinking she’d even notice me. Looking at her now, I wondered if she ever truly had.

Right now, annoyance flickered across her otherwise calm face.

She pressed her lips together, glancing offscreen like someone had just annoyed her. The mask slipped for a heartbeat, and I saw the impatience underneath.

“Nick, why did you take so long to answer? How’s my dad? Is there anything missing at home?”

Her tone was clipped, more accusation than concern. The old Autumn would’ve at least faked it. Now she was all business, eyes darting like she was keeping score. Yikes.

As soon as the call connected, Autumn launched into complaints, then started fishing for info.

No small talk, no warmth—just her dad, her stuff, her agenda. I felt my jaw tense, but kept my voice level.

I played dumb. “I don’t really know what’s going on today. I’m working overtime, so I won’t be coming by to cook.”

I let my voice trail off, adding a tired sigh for effect. Let her stew a bit—see how she liked not being the star of the show.

“What? You haven’t gone? Then what did my dad eat for lunch?” Autumn yelled at me through the phone.

Her voice shot up an octave, echoing through my tiny office. I could practically see her pacing, fists balled, ready to blame me for everything from world hunger to a burnt piece of toast.

“Missing one meal won’t kill him. Besides, isn’t your mom still at home?” I replied, unconcerned.

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. The old Nick would’ve apologized, made excuses. Not today.

“I can’t believe how irresponsible you are. I need to seriously reconsider marrying you.”

She hit me with that icy glare—the kind that used to make me squirm. Now, it just bounced off. Not anymore.

Autumn’s face went hard.

Jaw set, lips pressed tight, eyes narrowed. She looked like a principal chewing out a kid for skipping detention.

“After my exam, I’m going to relax for a bit. In the meantime, take good care of my dad. If you do well, maybe I’ll give you another chance.”

Her words dripped with condescension. Like I was some dog waiting for a treat. I almost laughed out loud.

“How much money do you have left? Send it all to me. I’ve got a lot of expenses while I’m out.”

She said it like it was nothing, like my bank account was her personal ATM. The nerve—still trying to milk me dry.

She wanted me to bankroll her dad and her trip. I shut her down.

Didn’t even bother hiding my annoyance. “Nope. Not happening. I’m broke, and I’m not your errand boy.”

“No. I don’t have money, and I’m not taking care of your dad.”

She rolled her eyes, huffing like a teenager denied the car keys. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. Classic.

“If you don’t take care of him, what happens to his treatment?”

Her voice quivered, like she was genuinely worried. But I could see through it—just another guilt trip, trying to reel me in.

“You and your mom are still around, aren’t you? What, you want to be a neglectful daughter?”

I let the words hang in the air, knowing they’d hit home. For a split second, her composure cracked. Gotcha.

Maybe the words “neglectful daughter” hit a nerve—Autumn’s face turned bright red.

She sucked in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. The old Autumn would’ve snapped back with something cutting. Now, she just looked wounded, like I’d hit a nerve she didn’t want exposed.

I kept my cool, replaying the comments’ plot in my head.

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to let her see how much it still hurt. If this was all a script, I was finally ready to go off-book.

“Shut up! How can you say that about me?”

Her voice trembled, anger and embarrassment mixing together. For once, she didn’t have a comeback. Silence. Wow.

“Then why aren’t you taking care of him?”

I tilted my head, genuinely curious. If she cared so much, why wasn’t she there?

She looked away, blinking fast. “I just wanted you to spend more time with my parents. They like people who are caring and kind. If you behave better now, they’ll definitely accept you.” Her voice faltered, eyes darting. Was she for real?

“But I never thought you’d be so irresponsible. I’m really disappointed in you.”

Her voice softened, like she was trying to reel me back in. The guilt trip was in full swing, but I wasn’t biting. Not this time.

If this were the old me, I’d be mortified by now.

I’d probably be apologizing, promising to do better, desperate for her approval. But not anymore.

I could almost hear myself, stammering out excuses, hoping she’d forgive me. Those days were over. Not this time.

But now, thanks to the comments, I already knew what was coming.

I’d seen the script. I knew my role. And I was done playing the fool.

I was over Autumn, so her emotional manipulation didn’t land.

It was like a switch had flipped. Her words bounced off me, leaving no mark.

I picked up the milk a coworker had given me, about to drink it, when Autumn’s face suddenly darkened.

She saw the carton in my hand and her eyes narrowed, like I’d just committed some unforgivable sin. Seriously? Milk now?

“I thought you were the type who knew how to live frugally, but look at you—so wasteful.”

“That milk would be great for my dad’s recovery. Why can’t you just drink tap water?”

“You’re so selfish. How can I trust you to take care of my dad?”

Me...?

I stared at the carton, then back at the screen. Was she for real? It wasn’t even her milk.

A coworker gave it to me—why shouldn’t I drink it? It’s not even hers.

I shrugged, taking a slow sip just to spite her. The milk was warm, but it tasted like freedom. Cheers to that.

Besides, who wants to take care of her dad anyway? She makes it sound so noble.

I glanced at the clock, counting down the seconds until I could hang up. This conversation was a dumpster fire.

Autumn kept going.

She rattled on, listing every perceived slight, every penny I’d ever spent on myself. I tuned her out, focusing on the hum of the air conditioner instead. Whatever.

I couldn’t be bothered to respond. I just stuck in the straw and started drinking.

The silence on the line stretched, her frustration growing with every second I refused to play along.

Then I said, slow and easy, “Are you done? Find whoever you want to take care of your dad. Go wherever you want. It has nothing to do with me. Goodbye.”

I let my words land like a stone dropped in a still pond. No drama, no pleading. Just the truth. That’s it.

Before Autumn could react, I hung up, blocked her, and shut the door on the drama.

Relief washed over me—a weight gone. I tossed my phone onto the desk and leaned back, savoring the quiet.