The Floating Comments Showed Me His Real Feelings Chapter 10
Nolan came running up, out of breath, and caught Sienna by the arm.
“Sienna, we tried everything we could.
“If you actually had a shot with him, would you be standing here like this?”
“I know you don’t want to hear it. But this is how it was always going to end. Let it go.”
Sienna crumpled to the pavement, sobbing. She looked nothing like the polished, untouchable girl I’d met all those months ago.
Callum didn’t linger. He took my hand and walked me away.
He walked me straight to my new apartment like he’d been there a hundred times.
“So you’re the one behind all the food Tessa brought me?”
Callum was quiet for a long time before he looked at me.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been tracking this down.”
Sienna had planted cameras in our old apartment. And the vintage gemstone pendant I wore-she’d hidden
a micro-receiver inside it.
That’s where the comments had been coming from.
“Maren, how could you just leave like that? Do you even care about me at all?”
“Am I really that hard to trust?”
Callum, the guy who never broke, never wavered, was standing in front of me with red-rimmed eyes, looking like a kicked puppy.
Every wall I’d built came down at once. But I had my own hurt too.
“How was I supposed to be sure?”
“You were acting so strange that night. You wouldn’t tell me where you were going, and you kept saying my
name like it was a chore.”
“Every time… every time we were together like that, you looked like it tortured you. How was I supposed to
not overthink?”
“None of your exes made it past three months. And with those comments on top of everything, I couldn’t be
sure…”
Callum pulled out his phone and scrolled to a screenshot.
It was a post I’d made the first week of college. The caption read: [My type? Guys who couldn’t care less about me.]
I wanted to disappear. I’d pasted that because some creep wouldn’t stop hitting on me.
Then he pulled up his old messages, the ones with his so-called exes.
Every single one of them was a friend or a cousin he’d asked to pretend to date him, all to keep anyone
genuinely interested away.
“Maren, can you just… trust me? Don’t run. If something’s wrong, tell me first. Please.”
He pulled me in, half-grumbling, half-begging, and somewhere in the middle of it, the charm bracelet slid
onto my wrist.
I smiled and held on tight.
“Of course.”
A guy this hot didn’t come around twice. No way I was letting him go again.
But if this whole mess taught me anything, it was this: no matter who I loved, I had to come first.
