The final straw was when someone—one of Anya’s friends, I think—came up to me, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You’re so brave for coming here. It must be hard, seeing them acting sweet in front of you."
I stared at her, not sure if I wanted to scream or cry. Instead, I just nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yeah. It’s hard."
I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I slipped away from the crowd, heading for the exit. Palmer called after me, but I didn’t stop. I needed air. I needed to get out of there before I completely fell apart.
As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my face, and I took a deep breath. I had never felt so humiliated, so small. I was never supposed to come here. What was I thinking? Trying to act like I could handle this, like I could just move on.
But the truth was, I wasn’t over it. I wasn’t over him. And maybe I never would be.