His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart

clutching my hand, her eyes red-rimmed. I was in a hospital bed, the sterile smell burning

r the room clutched in his hand. His usual effortless charm was replaced by a hesitant uncertain

t. "He even came to the house when you didn't an

rried? Looking for me?

surprisingly gentle. "Are you ok

isunderstanding my silence for weakness, nodded gratefully

s alone. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. I co

sound, and then, slowly, wrapped an arm around me. It was a familiar embr

it sounded bad." He paused, as if expecting me to protest, but I remained still. "Gigi... she j

I don't care about your weight, Elena. Nev

ed against my hair, and for a split second, I almost believed him. His face, when I risked a glance, held an expres

for him. Not anymore. I was so tired of trying to decipher him,

hoarse, pulling away from his embrac

xams? You mean the Stanford

he knew. Everyone in our small town k

row furrowed. "It's a really competitive spo

gi, Damian?" I asked, a bitter taste in my m

t... we always talked about going to Stan

. You were supposed to be the backup. The sma

with a new, quiet fury. "Is that it? Our whole lives, we talked about going to c

"Gigi... she really needs this. Her family is struggling right now. And you're so smart, you'll get into

ve up my dream. For Gigi. Again. I pushed past him, scramblin

is voice urgent. "At least.

h gleamed there. It was the custom one Gigi had given him for his birthday, the one all the popular kids were talking about. My own gift, a handmade leather-bound journal I' d personalized with his favorite q

birthday, Damian," I said, my voice flat. "I hope yo

poken meaning. He didn' t seem to notice