(This chapter contains material that some readers may find offensive or disturbing. This includes suggestions of attempted drug overdose and attempted suicide. Reader discretion is advised)
"Dylan?"The name left her lips like a curse, sharp and venomous, slicing through the thick, suffocating air. The moment stretched, a cruel, endless beat of silence before reality crashed into her like a tidal wave.
The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in, her lungs locking up. Her pulse roared in her ears, but beneath the shock, something dark and bitter rose inside her—a laugh, cold and jagged, tumbling from her throat.
"Of course."
Her voice dripped with a venomous amusement, a twisted mix of anger and disbelief. The cruel irony clawed at her chest. The man she had fought to love, the one she had trusted despite every warning, was nothing more than a betrayal, another knife between her ribs.
Dylan scrambled off the bed, yanking a sheet around his waist, his eyes wild. "Ana—this isn't what it looks like!"
"Oh, really?" Her voice was ice, but her fingers trembled. "Then please, enlighten me. What exactly am I looking at?"
He took a step toward her. "I can explain."
"Explain what?" she snapped, every syllable a blade. "That you just happened to fall into bed with Britney? That this is all some big misunderstanding?"
His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
Britney, still lounging in the sheets like a damn queen, let out a low, smug chuckle. "Oh, please, Ana. Don't be so dramatic. You must've known this was coming."
Anastasia's nails dug into her palms, the pain grounding her. "You're disgusting."
Britney stretched lazily. "Oh, and by the way… Dylan's going to be a daddy."
The room tilted.
Dylan flinched as if she had slapped him. "You're—what?"
Britney grinned, eyes gleaming with triumph. "Two months. Guess all those nights together paid off, huh?"
Anastasia's stomach twisted, nausea clawing up her throat. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. "We've been together for four years. I thought—"
His expression darkened. "Thought what? That I'd wait forever for you? Maybe this wouldn't have happened."
A sharp, bitter laugh ripped from her throat. "So it's my fault? Because I wasn't giving you a good fuck? Well, congratulations, Dylan. You've got everything you wanted. I hope it was worth it."
She turned on her heel, every nerve screaming at her to run.
Dylan grabbed her wrist. "Ana, wait! I—"
She wrenched free. "Don't touch me."
She stormed out, barely hearing Britney's laughter echo behind her.
She drove blindly, streets blurring past in streaks of neon and shadow. The betrayal burned inside her, searing and unbearable. The weight of it pressed on her chest, suffocating.
Somehow, she ended up at the liquor store. Then the drugstore. Her hands moved on autopilot, grabbing what she needed.
And now, here she was.
Perched on the edge of a rooftop, whiskey bottle in one hand, pill bottle in the other. The city stretched below, endless, glittering, oblivious.
The wind tangled in her hair, cold against the hot tracks of her tears.
She tipped the bottle to her lips, the burn sliding down her throat. It didn't make her feel better, but it numbed the edges. Just a little.
A raw sob ripped from her chest, her body shaking with the weight of it all. Her mother. Bastian. Dylan. Britney. And now her brothers hated her. Every loss, every heartbreak, piled on top of her like stones, crushing her beneath their weight. Today was supposed to be one of the best days of her life.
'How did it come to this? Was I really a terrible person that the whole world hates me? Why do I feel so alone? I'm sorry Mom. I'm sorry Bastian. I really did try live the best life that would make you both proud.'
She tossed back another gulp, then popped the cap off the pills. One, two, three. Washed down with whiskey. A fitting lullaby to a life that had been nothing but disappointment.
Her fingers traced the bracelet on her wrist, the one Bastian had given her.
"Oh, Bastian," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I wish you were here. I wish—"
A wave of dizziness hit her, her vision swimming.
She blinked blearily at the streetlights below, suddenly uncertain if she was sitting or falling.
"Whoohoo, am I drunk or just really tired?" she giggled, tipping dangerously forward.
The ledge crumbled beneath her fingers.
And then—
The world slipped away.
She was falling.
Falling.
Darkness swallowed her whole.