For a while, she convinced herself that everything was fine. James was still the person she ran to when home became unbearable, and their conversations still gave her a sense of peace. She had begun measuring her days by the moments she could hear his voice. If the day was difficult, she told herself, Just wait until I talk to James. If she felt lonely, she reminded herself that someone cared about her. It was a dangerous kind of comfort because she was slowly forgetting how to comfort herself.
At school, their relationship looked beautiful from the outside. Her friends knew James. They knew how much she cared about him. They teased her whenever his name came up, and she would pretend to be annoyed even though she secretly loved the attention. When he visited, everyone knew. When they met during games or quizzes, the excitement was impossible to hide. Their story had become something people around them recognized.
But behind the happiness, small cracks were beginning to appear.
She noticed that James wasn't always the same anymore. Sometimes he was affectionate and attentive. Other times, she felt as though she had to compete for his attention. And whenever Joselyn's name appeared, that familiar pain returned.
She had promised herself she wouldn't keep questioning him.
So she didn't.
Instead, she watched.
She watched the way his face changed when he spoke to certain people. She noticed how easily he could spend hours talking to Joselyn. She noticed when his attention drifted away from her. She noticed everything, but she said almost nothing.
One afternoon, she finally asked him a simple question.
"Are we okay?"
James looked at her.
"Of course we're okay."
She nodded.
"Okay."
That was all she said.
But the question had never really been about whether they were together.
It was about whether she still mattered.
She didn't ask that part.
She was afraid of the answer.
At home, things were becoming difficult again. The long hours working with her mother continued. The criticism continued. The beatings continued. Some days she returned from school already exhausted, only to face more work.
James became the person who heard about those days.
She would tell him what happened.
Sometimes he comforted her.
Sometimes he simply listened.
And sometimes she wondered whether he truly understood how much his presence meant to her.
He probably didn't.
How could he?
He wasn't inside her mind.
He didn't know that when she heard his voice, she wasn't just hearing her boyfriend.
She was hearing an escape.
She was hearing someone who hadn't called her lazy.
Someone who hadn't made her feel like a problem.
Someone who seemed to choose her.
That was why even small changes in James frightened her.
A shorter conversation could ruin her entire evening.
A missed call could make her wonder whether something had happened.
A delayed reply could send her mind racing.
She hated herself for becoming so dependent.
But she didn't know how to stop.
Then something happened that she couldn't easily explain away.
James became distant for a while.
Not completely.
Just enough for her to notice.
The conversations weren't always as long.
The excitement wasn't always the same.
She tried telling herself that he was simply busy.
School was demanding.
Life was changing.
People grew.
There were many reasonable explanations.
She chose the easiest one.
He's just busy.
But the heart doesn't always believe what the mind tells it.
She began feeling uneasy.
And instead of asking him, she kept watching.
She remembered what had happened before.
The rumors about Lawrencia.
The party.
The denial.
The anonymous letters.
The months of silence.
She had already survived losing James once.
She didn't want to experience it again.
So she held tighter.
Perhaps too tightly.
She gave more.
More attention.
More patience.
More understanding.
More of herself.
She didn't realize that sometimes, the fear of losing someone can make you ignore the very things that should concern you.
And James was slowly becoming harder for her to understand.
One Saturday, they spoke for hours again.
By the end of the conversation, she felt relieved.
Maybe she had imagined everything.
Maybe they were still okay.
Maybe the distance she had felt was temporary.
Maybe she was simply overthinking.
James reassured her.
And she believed him.
Because believing him was easier than facing the possibility that something was changing.
That night, she smiled.
She slept believing that their relationship was safe.
But the next chapter of their story was already approaching.
She didn't know what it would look like.
She didn't know who would be involved.
She didn't know how much it would hurt.
She only knew that something had shifted.
Something small.
Something almost invisible.
But once trust begins to crack, even the smallest sound can become impossible to ignore.
And soon, she would hear it clearly.
The boy she had made her safe place was beginning to become the source of another wound.
I can continue with Chapter 37, where the first undeniable signs of James's betrayal begin to surface.