Nothing Left to Say

Clive Hawkins, who had been giving me the cold shoulder, posted on X.

[First 100 likes get a breakup cash giveaway.]

In no time, it had 99 likes and reposts.

I knew he was waiting for me to give in, just like how I begged him to delete it during the ten times we fought before.

But this time, I reposted it myself and wrote, [Count me in.]

Then, I blocked him on every platform.

Three days later, his sister messaged me.

[Clive saved you a front row seat. Stop hiding and come back. As long as you show up, he's willing to forgive you.]

I glanced at the plane ticket on my desk and replied.

[I'm busy.]

I really was busy. I’d been admitted to graduate school at Redstone University, and my flight was leaving that night for orientation.

From then on, we would be separated by thousands of miles, never to see each other again.

When I found out Clive Hawkins had booked a hotel room to cheer up his heartbroken childhood friend, I slapped him across the face.

In the hotel room, Clive's shirt was half open, and there were still marks on his neck he hadn't bothered to hide.

I stood in front of him and asked if he really thought this was fair to me.

He clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his hair, as if he had just heard something ridiculous.

"We're just dating, not married. Who I sleep with isn't your business."

After saying that, he even turned around to glance at Danielle Medina.

Danielle spoke softly, her voice trembling as if she were about to cry, "Julia, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. Don't blame him…"

"That's enough," Clive cut her off, but his eyes stayed on me, his gaze turning cold. "I did it willingly. It's not that big of a deal. Do you really have to make a scene like this?What, you want to break up again?"

Again with the breakup threat.

This was the 11th time we had talked about breaking up because of Danielle.

From the freshman year of college until now, we had been together for four years. We had fought countless times, and every single time, I was the one who backed down first.

Clive had probably taken that for granted a long time ago.

This time, I didn't want to back down anymore.

I didn't even have the energy to argue. I nodded and turned toward the elevator.

Suddenly, Danielle jogged over and grabbed my hand. Her fingers were ice-cold, her voice soft like cotton.

"Julia, please don't be mad. Clive really loves you. He kept calling your name in bed just now…"

I yanked my hand away hard.

How disgusting!

A sick, indescribable nausea rose from my stomach.

Clive strode over, pulled her behind him, and stared at me as he spoke, word by word, "If you can't accept it, then get out. Don't stand here giving me that look."

I