C3

I rushed away from Elio, my steps quickening as if I could outrun the turmoil inside me. My mind was a maelstrom of emotions—guilt for lying to him, sadness at the situation, and a lingering hope that things could be different. I headed to the school library, seeking its quiet refuge.

I found an empty table in a corner and sat down, burying my face in my hands. The library was almost deserted, a few students scattered amongst the tables, absorbed in their books.

Lost in thought, I heard a commotion outside. Looking up, I saw Elio and Isabella walking past the glass doors, hand in hand, laughing, their faces radiant with happiness. My heart sank. 'I should focus on my studies', I thought, but the words were a hollow mantra. I watched them disappear, my eyes following their retreating figures until they were gone. I tried to return to my book, but the words blurred. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elio's face, his smile, the way he looked at Isabella—a constant, agonizing ache.

But I refused to give up. Or did I? Elio only sees me as a friend. Maybe I should just...give up. He has Isabella. I'll have to pick up the pieces of my own foolish heart.

The following weeks were a blur. Parties, the art club, new friends—I tried to fill the void, to distract myself. But no matter what I did, a gnawing emptiness remained.

I took another glass of wine, gulping it down. "One more glass, please," I mumbled, my head heavier than my feet, feeling like I might topple from my chair. "Can you go home in that state, miss?" the bartender asked, his gaze assessing my inebriated condition. I nodded, and he shrugged, pouring another glass.

Just as I reached for it, a hand snatched the glass away. I glared at the intruder. "Hey—" But the sight of his face stole my breath. His gaze was stern. I looked away, ignoring him. "One more wine, please!" I insisted, my voice sharp. The bartender glanced at the man behind me, seeking permission. 'The nerve! I thought, I'm the customer!', "Hey! I said one more glass!" I gritted my teeth. He sighed, finally pouring the wine. Nosy bartender!

"Sajarah..." he said. 'Damn you, Elio. I hate you.'

Ignoring him, I took a sip. He reached for the glass again. "Enough of that..." I slapped his hand away. "Stop interfering!" I shouted, irritation bubbling over. He grabbed my wrist, hoisting me onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Elio, you—Put me down!"

I tried to protest, but the alcohol had me swaying. 'This is ridiculous.'

He carried me out to his car, settling me into the front seat. I huffed in frustration, too drunk to resist. I closed my eyes, ignoring his gaze.

A moment of silence stretched after he pulled away from the bar. Then, his voice, gentle yet concerned, cut through the quiet. "What made you so drunk tonight?" The question, laced with concern, reopened the wounds of the day. Stupid Elio. 'Just when I was about to forget, even for tonight...you know how to break me.'

I stayed silent until we arrived at my house. He carried me to the entrance. A maid opened the door, letting him in. Everyone here, including my parents, knows Elio. It's not surprising, but right now, I hate it.

He carried me to my room, laying me gently on my bed. I groaned, settling into the softness. He removed my heels, tucked me under the covers, and turned on the air conditioning. I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear him, every careful movement in the quiet room. Then, the soft click of the door closing, and the sound of his retreating footsteps.

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