The next day, Hazel went looking for James.
She found him at the backseat ball field, sitting alone, staring at nothing.
Relief rushed through her chest.
She waved at him.
He didn't respond.
Maybe he didn't see me, she thought.
So she called his name.
"James."
His head snapped up.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes — something wild, desperate, almost hopeful.
He stood up so fast the bench behind him shook. His face was flushed, breath unsteady, and he started running toward her.
Hazel's heart leapt.
He looks like he wants to hug me…
She smiled and opened her arms.
But then—
James suddenly changed direction.
Someone stood behind Hazel.
He rushed past her and wrapped his arms around that person, holding them so tightly it looked like he was afraid they would disappear.
Hazel turned slowly.
Her world stopped.
It was Ashley.
Her stepsister.
"You came for me, didn't you?" James said, voice breaking. "You're finally here. I thought you didn't like me anymore. I really missed you, Ashley."
He couldn't stop himself.
Ashley hugged him back.
"I missed you too… baby."
Then Ashley lifted her head and looked straight at Hazel.
She smiled.
"Sister. How have you been?"
Hazel couldn't breathe.
Edward whispered, "What's going on there?"
James finally noticed Hazel standing frozen.
"How do you two know each other?"
Ashley tilted her head sweetly. "She's my stepsister. But James… is it true? I heard you and Hazel are dating."
James hesitated.
"We were."
Hazel's lips parted. "We… we weren't in that kind of relationship. We were just friends."
Ashley's eyes gleamed.
"Oh? Is that true, sister?"
Hazel grabbed James's hand and pulled him aside.
Her voice trembled.
"What do you mean we were just friends?"
James exhaled slowly. "Aren't we? Hazel… from the start, I told you I only wanted to be your friend. I never planned anything serious. And now that the most important person is here, I'm backing out."
Hazel stared at him.
"Are you insane? What do you mean just friends? Were you playing me this whole time?"
"When did we ever get serious?" he said calmly. "Saying I liked you was just something I said. I can get any girl I want. You were just an option. A bet. Who do you think you are? You're just one of those girls I dump."
Her chest collapsed inward.
"So… you never liked me? I was just part of those—"
James smirked.
"Yes. You were one of the many. You were pretty hard to get, I'll give you that. But I don't care anymore."
Hazel's eyes burned.
"So everything we shared meant nothing to you? Tell me… did you ever have even a tiny feeling for me?"
He stared at her.
Five seconds passed.
James answered, cold and clear.
"Not even a tiny feeling."
Something inside Hazel broke.
She forced herself not to cry as she watched him walk back to Ashley, laughing, holding her hand — leaving Hazel standing there alone with a heart that no longer worked.
Hazel didn't return to her dorm.
She went home.
Not the small room near campus, but the mansion — the quiet, oversized house she only visited when she wanted to disappear. The gates closed behind her with a hollow sound, sealing her inside a silence that felt louder than any scream.
She didn't go to school.
One day passed.
Then another.
Then a week.
No calls.
No messages.
No one came looking.
Hazel slept.
She slept until morning turned into night, and night folded back into morning. Sometimes she didn't even remember falling asleep — only waking up with the same ache sitting heavy on her chest.
The mansion felt lifeless.
The long hallways echoed with her footsteps when she moved from room to room, barefoot, wrapped in oversized clothes. The curtains stayed closed. Sunlight barely touched the marble floors. Dust floated in the air like time itself had stopped here.
Sometimes, she stood in front of the massive portrait hanging in the living room.
A man and a woman stood there, smiling gently — her first adoptive parents.
They looked warm. Kind. Alive.
Hazel stared at the painting for a long time, her eyes empty.
"You would've believed me, wouldn't you?" she whispered.
Her fingers tightened around the neck of a bottle.
Alcohol burned down her throat, sharp and unforgiving. She didn't even flinch. She drank like she was punishing herself, like she deserved the pain.
She sank onto the cold floor beneath the portrait, her back against the wall, knees pulled to her chest.
The mansion had always been big.
But tonight, it felt endless.
Her phone lay abandoned somewhere nearby, screen dark. No missed calls. No messages from James. No apology. No explanation.
Hazel laughed quietly.
A broken sound.
"So this is it," she murmured. "This is what love feels like."
Her eyes burned, but no tears came. She had cried enough at the ball field. Enough to last a lifetime.
Her gaze drifted back to the painting.
"You told me I was strong," she said softly. "You told me people couldn't break me."
She lifted the bottle again.
"But you were wrong."
The silence swallowed her words.
Outside, the world kept moving.
At school, life went on.
James laughed. Ashley smiled.
And Hazel faded quietly inside a mansion too big to notice she was breaking.