Tracy's POV
The house felt too quiet when I returned from the interview. Mrs. Callahan had stepped out to visit a neighbor, leaving only the faint hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen and the ticking wall clock to keep her company. I slipped off my shoes and sank onto the small couch, my heart still racing from the hours earlier.
For a moment, I let myself smile—just a tiny one. The interview hadn't gone perfectly, but I had managed to get through it without falling apart. I had spoken honestly, and for once, my words had been heard. That alone felt like a victory.
But when I turned on the television, any trace of that fragile peace shattered.
The news channel was buzzing with society updates, as it always did, and there he was— my fiancé. The man I had been prepared to marry. He was standing beside my sister, both of them smiling as though nothing in the world could touch them.
My chest tightened. My throat felt like it was closing. I leaned forward, staring at the screen, unable to look away. He was not grieving my disappearance, not even pretending. He looked… happy. Radiant, even, with my sister clinging to his arm as though she had always belonged there.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
I switched off the TV quickly, the silence slamming into me like a blow. I pressed my palms against my face, my breath trembling. I had been holding onto this tiny thread of hope— that maybe, somewhere deep inside, he had cared for me. That maybe, despite my mother's cruelty and my sister's betrayal, he at least had wanted me.
But the smile on his face told me otherwise.
I did not call him that day. I didn't call the next either. Fear held me back. Fear of the truth, fear of the rejection I already sensed was waiting for me. But after four long days, the silence became unbearable. I needed to hear it from him— I needed to know.
My hands shook as i dialed his number. Each ring felt like a lifetime, my stomach churning until finally, the line clicked and his familiar voice came through.
"Hello…"
" This..this is Tracy."
"Tracy?" he said, his tone flat, distant.
My breath hitched. "It's me," I whispered. "I… I just wanted to know if you were alright. I thought maybe you'd be hurt, or—"
He cut my off suddenly, his voice sharp and cold. "Tracy, do not fool yourself. I was never hurt. Not for a second. Because you were never the one I wanted."
My heart cracked with those words, the bluntness slicing through me like glass. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. "What… what do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said," he snapped. "It was always your sister. I liked her from the very beginning. But my family wanted you. You were… convenient. Useful. So I went along with it. That's all you ever were to me."
Tears welled up, blurring my vision. I gripped the phone tighter, desperate to say something, anything— but my voice wouldn't come.
"And now," he added cruelly, "things are the way they should be. Do not call me again."
The line went dead.
For a moment, I sat frozen, the phone still pressed against my ear, the silence on the other end echoing louder than any words could. Then slowly, I lowered it, my hand trembling so hard I nearly dropped it.
The tears came in waves, spilling down my cheeks as I buried my face in my hands. I had held onto the hope that somewhere, somehow, there was love between us. That maybe the little moments I thought I'd saw— the way he brushed his hand against mine, the times he smiled softly, the rare warmth in his voice— meant something.
But now, replaying those moments in my mind, I saw the truth. The distance. The way his eyes had always strayed to my sister when he thought no one noticed. The coldness in his touch. The indifference in his silence.
I had ignored the signs. I had convinced myself it was love, because I wanted so badly to be loved.
My sobs filled the room, raw and unrestrained. The betrayal of my mother, my sister, and now him— it was too much. My chest ached, and for a moment, I wondered how much more I could bear.
And then— my phone buzzed.
My tears slowed as i wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, glancing at the screen. An email notification. With trembling fingers, I opened it.
Cole Enterprises – Interview Result.
My heart raced as I clicked it open.
We are pleased to inform you…
The words blurred through my tears, but I did not need to read the rest. I had been accepted.
For a long moment, I sat there in stunned silence, the phone resting on my lap. I was broken, yes. Abandoned. Rejected. But at the same time… life was giving me a chance. A chance to step forward, to leave the ashes of my past behind.
I exhaled shakily, pressing the phone against my chest. This was my cue. My sign.
I could not fix what had been broken, but i could build something new.
For the first time in weeks, a flicker of determination stirred inside me.
I would take the job. I would start fresh. I would live for myself, not for the family that had cast me aside.
And no matter how much it hurt, I whispered the words aloud, as though speaking them could make them real:
"I will move on."
I didn't know how yet, or what tomorrow would bring, but I knew this— I wasn't going back.
...To be continued