Too Late For His Desperate Proposal

Wo Ruo

Romance | Completed

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For seventeen years, I loved my best friend, Holden King. I was the quiet girl who always had a bandage for his scraped knees, secretly believing we were meant to be. But he shattered my world with six words: "She's my sister. That's all." He fell for the cruel and glamorous Fabiola, even taking her to our secret meadow. Her jealousy was a poison. She faked a pregnancy to trap him, then hired a man to attack me in an alley. The trauma ruptured an aneurysm in my brain, and I went blind. Through it all, Holden defended her. He refused to believe she was capable of such evil, choosing the monster he'd known for months over the girl he'd known his whole life. My savior, a kind doctor named Jace, offered me a future, and we planned a fake wedding to give my terrified parents hope. But as I stood blind at the altar, Holden crashed the ceremony. He fell to his knees, a diamond ring in his hand. "I love you, Chloe," he cried. "Marry me."

Betrayal First love Revenge Love triangle Drama

Chapter 17

01-06 21:45

Chapter 1

For seventeen years, I loved my best friend, Holden King. I was the quiet girl who always had a bandage for his scraped knees, secretly believing we were meant to be.

But he shattered my world with six words: "She's my sister. That's all." He fell for the cruel and glamorous Fabiola, even taking her to our secret meadow.

Her jealousy was a poison. She faked a pregnancy to trap him, then hired a man to attack me in an alley. The trauma ruptured an aneurysm in my brain, and I went blind.

Through it all, Holden defended her. He refused to believe she was capable of such evil, choosing the monster he'd known for months over the girl he'd known his whole life.

My savior, a kind doctor named Jace, offered me a future, and we planned a fake wedding to give my terrified parents hope.

But as I stood blind at the altar, Holden crashed the ceremony. He fell to his knees, a diamond ring in his hand.

"I love you, Chloe," he cried. "Marry me."

Chapter 1

Chloe Waller POV:

"I love you, Chloe," Holden King whispered, his voice thick with an emotion I' d waited a lifetime to hear. "It' s always been you." He knelt before me, his handsome face etched with desperation, a diamond ring held between his trembling fingers. "Marry me."

I looked down at the man I had loved for seventeen years, the boy who had been my entire world. Then, I looked past him, to the man standing by my side, whose hand was resting gently on my back.

I smiled, a small, sad curve of my lips. "Holden," I said, my voice clear and steady, "I' m already married."

One month ago, my world had been a different color. It had been painted in shades of Holden King.

The university' s annual spring festival was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and blooming jacaranda trees. Laughter and music swirled around me, but I only had eyes for one person. Holden. He was standing by the impromptu stage, the setting sun catching the golden highlights in his brown hair, a confident smile playing on his lips as he talked with his business fraternity brothers.

He was charismatic, popular, the sun around which so many people orbited. And I, Chloe Waller, was just a quiet moon, content to circle in his gravitational pull, a secret I had guarded since I was ten years old.

We were inseparable. The Chloe-and-Holden show, our parents called it. He was the adventurous one, I was the cautious one. He was the one who scraped his knees, and I was the one who always had a bandage ready. He saw me as his little sister, a role I played with practiced ease, all the while my heart was screaming a different truth.

"Seriously, King, when are you going to make a move on Fabiola Clarke?" one of his friends, Liam, elbowed him playfully.

My heart did a painful little flip-flop in my chest. Fabiola Clarke. The university' s reigning queen bee, an influencer with a million followers and a trust fund to match. She was everything I wasn' t: bold, glamorous, and wealthy.

Holden let out a low chuckle, a sound that usually made my stomach flutter. This time, it felt like a stone dropping into a pit. "Give me a break, man. I' m working on it."

"Working on it? Dude, the girl' s been giving you the green light for months," another friend chimed in. "What' s the hold-up? You' re not still hung up on your little shadow, are you?"

My breath hitched. I shrank back behind a large oak tree, the rough bark digging into my shoulder blades. I shouldn' t be listening. This was private.

Holden' s voice, when it came, was dismissive. "Chloe? Don' t be ridiculous. She' s my sister. That' s all she' ll ever be."

Sister.

The word was a hammer blow, shattering the fragile glass house of my dreams. I' d heard it a thousand times, but this time, in the context of him wanting someone else, it felt like a final judgment.

"Good," Liam said, clapping him on the back. "Because Fabiola is a score. Her family owns half the city. You lock that down, you' re set for life."

"It' s not about that," Holden said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "She' s... exciting. Different."

The unspoken words hung in the air: Different from Chloe.

I didn' t need to hear any more. I turned and fled, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. I found a deserted corner behind the library, a place where the shadows were deep and comforting. I slid down the cool brick wall, pulling my knees to my chest, and finally let the sobs wrack my body.

It was over. A love story that had only ever existed in my head had reached its tragic conclusion.

After the tears subsided, a cold resolve settled in my chest. Fine. If he only saw me as a sister, then that' s what I would be. I would bury my feelings so deep he' d never find them. I would smile, I would be supportive, and I would watch him fall in love with someone else, even if it killed me.

I straightened my clothes, wiped my face, and walked back into the festival, a carefully constructed mask of cheerful indifference firmly in place.

Later that evening, the world exploded in a shower of fireworks. Under the glittering sky, I saw him. Holden was standing in the middle of the crowded lawn, holding a single, perfect red rose. He was looking at Fabiola Clarke, his eyes shining with an adoration I had only ever dreamed of receiving.

"Fabiola," he said, his voice carrying in a lull between explosions. "I know I' ve been slow to act, but the truth is, I can' t stop thinking about you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

The crowd around them oohed and aahed. Fabiola, looking every bit the starlet in her designer dress, let out a delighted gasp. She took the rose, her perfectly manicured fingers brushing against his. "Of course, Holden. I thought you' d never ask."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss that sealed their new reality. The crowd erupted in cheers.

My own hands were clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The bouquet of wildflowers I' d picked for him earlier, a silly, hopeful gesture, felt like a bundle of weeds in my grasp. A single tear escaped and traced a cold path down my cheek.

I turned away before anyone could see. As I walked towards the campus exit, I passed a trash can. Without a second thought, I tossed the flowers inside. They landed with a soft, pathetic thud.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips.

It' s time to let go, Chloe, I told myself, the words a silent, painful mantra. He' s not yours. He never was.

Two weeks later, Holden threw a party at his off-campus house to celebrate his new relationship. An invitation had appeared in my inbox, a casual "You gotta come, Chlo!" text attached. My first instinct was to delete it, to feign illness, to do anything but go. But that would be admitting defeat. That would be showing him he' d hurt me.

So I went.

I dressed simply, in jeans and a soft sweater, a stark contrast to the glitter and glam of Fabiola' s friends. The house was thrumming with bass-heavy music and the cacophony of a hundred conversations.

Holden spotted me from across the room and his face lit up. "Chlo! You made it!" He wrapped me in a familiar, bone-crushing hug. For a second, I let myself melt into it, breathing in his scent, the scent of home.

Then he pulled away, grabbing another hand. "Chloe, this is Fabiola. Fabiola, my best friend, Chloe."

Fabiola' s smile was bright, but it didn' t reach her eyes. Her grip was cool and firm as we shook hands. "It' s so lovely to finally meet the famous Chloe. Holden talks about you all the time."

"All good things, I hope," I managed, my own smile feeling stiff and unnatural.

"Of course," she said, her arm snaking possessively around Holden' s waist. "He told me how you' re like the sister he never had."

There it was again. That word. Sister.

"Congratulations, you two," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly steady. "You make a beautiful couple."

I grabbed a plastic cup of beer from a nearby table and took a long swallow, the bitter liquid doing little to numb the ache in my chest. I spent the rest of the night on the periphery, a ghost at the feast, watching Holden dote on his new girlfriend. He was attentive, charming, a perfect boyfriend.

The party eventually wound down. Fabiola was leaning against Holden, looking tired but triumphant. Holden looked over at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Chlo, how are you getting home?" he asked. "It' s late."

Before I could answer, Fabiola spoke up, her voice syrupy sweet. "We can give you a ride, Chloe. It' s no trouble at all." It wasn' t a question; it was a declaration of ownership. We are a unit now. You are the outsider.

A surge of defiance, sharp and unexpected, cut through my alcohol-induced haze. "No, thanks," I said, grabbing my bag. "I' ve already called a car."

I didn' t wait for a reply. I walked out the door and into the cool night air, not looking back. As my rideshare pulled away from the curb, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I saw Holden take a step toward the door, a frown on his face, but Fabiola tugged him back, whispering something in his ear. He hesitated, then let her lead him back inside.

He didn' t even look back.

The tears finally came, hot and silent, as the car sped through the empty streets.

"Rough night?" the driver, a kind-faced older man, asked gently, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

I shook my head, quickly wiping my face. "No. I' m just... really happy for my friend."

The lie tasted like ash in my mouth.

Seventeen years. I had known Holden King for seventeen years. He had moved in next door when I was five. He' d taught me how to ride a bike. He' d punched a bully in the nose for pulling my hair in third grade and got detention for a week. I remembered sitting outside the principal' s office, crying, until he came out.

He had ruffled my hair and said, with all the bravado a nine-year-old could muster, "Don' t cry, Chlo. I' m your big brother. I' ll always protect you."

That was the day my childish affection had morphed into something deeper, something quieter and more profound. I had followed him, supported him, cheered for him from the sidelines of his life, always believing that one day he would turn around and see me. Really see me.

He had promised to protect me forever.

But who was going to protect me from him?