Chapter 3: Chosen Second, Left Alone

He lifted his hand, wanting to touch my cheek, but he hesitated. "Cass, I need to go check on her."

His voice was soft, almost pleading. He looked at me like he wanted my blessing, but I just stared back.

He must’ve seen my face, because he added, “I’ll be back soon.”

He tried to sound reassuring, but the words fell flat. I’d heard them too many times before.

I replied, voice flat: "Whatever... If it gets too late, don’t bother coming back. I’m a light sleeper—don’t wake me."

I kept my tone light, almost joking, but the bitterness slipped through. I didn’t care anymore. Or at least, I wanted to.

Miles paused, then frowned, like he thought I was just being petty.

He grabbed his jacket off the chair, shoulders hunched. The hurt in his eyes flashed for a second, but he masked it quickly.

He hurriedly grabbed his jacket. At the door, he suddenly stopped and turned back. “Cass, she’s anxious. If she gets scared, her heart condition could flare up again. Try to understand, Cass, okay? There’s really nothing going on between us, trust me.”

He tried to sound sincere, but it just made me feel smaller. Like I was the one being unreasonable, the one who needed to understand.

The door closed. My heart clenched so hard it hurt, and tears welled up in my eyes.

The click of the latch echoed in the room, final and sharp. I pressed my fist to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob that threatened to break free.

Everything from the past surged through my mind. I just couldn’t understand—if he couldn’t let go of Jamie, why was he with me?

I replayed every moment, every conversation, every look. It all felt like a lie. Why did I keep letting myself hope?

Jamie and Miles had dated for two years. Two years.

Their history was everywhere—old photos tucked in drawers, inside jokes I never understood, stories his friends still told at parties. I tried not to let it bother me, but it always did.

Eventually, Miles decided it was too soon for marriage, and since Jamie was six years older, he didn’t want to waste her time—so they called it quits.

He’d told me this story more than once, as if it explained everything. As if the age gap was the only thing that mattered. Always felt like there was more.

Miles told me their relationship was over, that if they still had feelings, they’d never have made it this far apart. But I wasn’t so sure.

He’d said it with a laugh, like it was all ancient history. But the way Jamie looked at him told a different story. One I could never quite forget.

But every time I met Jamie’s gaze, the subtle, provocative look in her eyes seemed to tell a different story. Every single time.

She’d smirk, tilt her head, toss her hair over her shoulder. Like she knew a secret I’d never be part of. It made my skin crawl.

His friends always brought it up too, saying Jamie was older than all of them, like a big sister who’d watched them grow up. Even if they weren’t lovers anymore, the bond was real—so I shouldn’t take it to heart.

They’d nudge me at parties, tell me not to worry. "She’s like family, Cass. Nothing to worry about." But I always felt like an outsider, the only one who didn’t get the joke.

Everyone told me to be more understanding. Everyone.

Even my own friends said I was overreacting. "She’s harmless," they’d say. "Just let it go." But they didn’t have to live with the constant reminders.

I tried to explain that Jamie had never truly let him go, but Miles always thought I was just being possessive and overthinking things. Just being possessive.

He’d roll his eyes, tell me I was jealous for no reason. It made me feel crazy, like I was the only one who saw what was really happening.

Even the birthday gift Miles gave me—Jamie insisted on unwrapping it first, turning it over in her hands, then saying, “Cass, I don’t think this color suits you. Why not give it to me, and let Miles pick something else for you?”

She said it with a laugh, waving the gift in the air. Everyone else chuckled, but I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger.

The moment she said that, my mind went blank, and I instinctively reached out to snatch the gift back. I had to get it back.

My hand shot out, almost on its own. I couldn’t let her take one more thing from me. Not one more thing.

Miles stopped me. “Cass, if Jamie likes it, just let her have it. It’s only a gift.”

He grabbed my wrist, his grip firm. His voice was low, warning. I felt like a child being scolded.

I gripped it tightly, refusing to let go, biting my lower lip so hard I could taste blood.

I stared him down, refusing to budge. The metallic tang filled my mouth, but I didn’t care.

Miles’s face turned cold. "Be more mature."

His words cut deeper than any slap. I felt my eyes sting, but I blinked the tears away, determined not to let them fall.

Every time something like this happened, he’d tell me to be mature. But why? I was his girlfriend, yet I always felt like the extra.

I wanted to scream, to ask him why I was always the one who had to be the adult, the one who had to give in. Why did I have to give in?

I glared at Miles, right on the edge.

My breath came in short, sharp bursts. I could feel the anger rising, threatening to spill over.

Jamie acted startled, quickly shoving the gift back into my hands, apologizing, “It’s my fault, I didn’t realize you liked it so much. Don’t fight because of me. That’d be awful.”

She put on her best innocent face, but I saw the satisfaction in her eyes. She loved it.

She added, “Don’t be mad. I’ll drink two glasses to make it up to you.” She downed her drink in one go.

She tilted her head back, swallowing the liquor without flinching. The others cheered, but I just felt sick.

But when she tried to pour herself more, Miles snatched the glass away, scolding, "Enough. Your heart isn’t in great shape—don’t push it."

He hovered over her, voice gentle, almost tender. I wanted to scream, to shake him, to make him see how much it hurt.

Jamie grabbed his wrist, smiling. “Today’s Cass’s birthday. Don’t make her mad, or your girlfriend might run away!”

She winked at me, as if we were all in on some big joke. I clenched my fists.

Miles rubbed his temples in frustration. “Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

He looked around the table, exasperated, like he was the only sane one.

Jamie leaned in and whispered something in his ear. For a second, her neckline gaped open with the motion, almost flashing me.

I saw the way she pressed her chest against his arm, her lips brushing his ear. It was deliberate. Calculated. I felt my face flush with anger.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Furious, I slammed my glass down on the table, my voice shaking as I shouted, “Miles! Should I just bring a bed over for you two, or what?!”

The words echoed through the room, silencing the laughter. Everyone stared at me, shocked.

Jamie looked completely innocent, as if she’d been terribly wronged. “Cass, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just showing him how to cheer you up…”

She blinked at me, wide-eyed, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. I wanted to scream.

I couldn’t stand the sight of her fake face anymore. I turned to leave, but Miles grabbed me tightly. “Calm down. Why are you making a scene?”

His grip was strong, almost painful. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.

My eyes were red as I glared at Miles.

I refused to look away, even as the tears threatened to spill over. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He bit back whatever he was about to say, suddenly kicked the table leg, and stood up.

The sound was loud, jarring. He didn’t say a word, just glared at everyone.

Jaw clenched, he pulled me into his arms and said to the others behind us, “We’re heading out. I’ll pay. You guys have fun.”

He tossed his credit card onto the table, not bothering to wait for the check. His arm was firm around my waist, steering me toward the door.

Jamie called after him, not ready to give up.

Her voice followed us, plaintive and sweet. "Miles, wait! Don’t go yet!"

Miles didn’t look back, just took me away.

He kept his eyes forward, jaw set. For a moment, I let myself believe I was the one who mattered most. For a moment.

That time, I thought I’d won Miles’s love, and I was over the moon.

We walked home in silence, the city lights blurring in the rain. I clung to his arm, pretending everything was okay. I wanted to believe it so badly.

But the good times didn’t last. The sweet days vanished, and Jamie crept back into our lives like a shadow, showing up so often it was suffocating.

She was everywhere—texting, calling, dropping by. I started to dread the sound of my own doorbell.

Miles didn’t come home last night.

I stared at the clock, watching the hours tick by. Every creak in the apartment made me sit up, hoping it was him. But the bed stayed empty.

I tossed and turned all night, my heart pounding so hard I couldn’t sleep.

I hugged his pillow, searching for any trace of his scent. My mind raced with a thousand what-ifs, none of them good.