~Important Note.

☆☆I'm starting the first chapter from Paige's(main character)best friend-chloé's point of view.

Chloé's POV
-

'I never even loved you.'

These were the only words I could remember. These heart- wrenching words no one wants to hear from the person who means the world to them, someone they left everything for.

I woke up terrified. I took a deep breath and realized it was just a dream. A silly dream. The dream felt so real - the nightmare about Mark.

Mark and I had been dating for two years, but work took most of his time. I left New York, my best friend and all the beautiful memories behind, just to be next to him, and support him. I was deeply in love with him. He was my world, everything I ever wanted in a guy.

I pushed off the soft cream duvet, one of the most comfortable I'd ever used. Relief came over me when I found Mark's blue pajamas on the ground next to the bed, realizing it was just a dream.

After getting up, I brushed my teeth, took a long shower, and then tucked my pink t-shirt into my distressed jeans. I finished up by restraining my strawberry blonde hair in a hurried ponytail.

When I entered the kitchen, I found a half-empty cup of hot coffee. The aroma of fresh-baked bread greeted my nose. I rushed to the toaster as I realized the smell was burning toast.

"Oh Mark!" I screamed while throwing the burnt toasts in the bin, using the handkerchief from the counter.

Mark's glowing iMac caught my attention. It was still logged in on his Facebook account.

"Poor Mark, he was probably in a hurry and had to leave quickly before logging off and removing the toasts," I concluded. 

As I was about to switch it off, a message came in from Kesha.

-I just received the flowers. Thanks xx

"Who the hell is Kesha?" I asked absentmindedly.

 I clicked on the chat out of curiosity; I wanted to find out about these flowers and the two kisses, I thought shaking my head. She probably is throwing herself at him, but why would he send her flowers.

"Mark wouldn't do it. He would never cheat on me," I consoled myself as I moved the arrow to the close button. He loved me...how could I suspect something like this?

When I scrolled up to read the rest of the messages, I saw heart-shaped emojis.

...Heart-shaped?!

What. The. Hell?

As I scrolled up, I read their conversations meticulously in order to understand the situation. 

After reading the conversation at the top; their very first, I gathered that they'd met in front of the bank, and he helped her with her bags. 

 As I read further, a barrage of emotions flooded my heart. I became scared, curious and heartbroken.

She asked if he had a girlfriend and he'd said no.

"...No?!"

"That was months ago!" I screamed.

"Oh my God! They had been meeting and hooking up."

Tears coursed down my cheeks as I realized what had been happening behind me unnoticed.

My heart crashed into a hundred pieces like it was made of glass.

I sat there in disbelief. "How could I have been so blind?"

I felt weak and used. Although I was angry at Mark for doing such thing, I was angrier at myself for letting him do it.

....

A fusillade of questions engaged my mind. "What have I done wrong? Where did I go wrong? Wasn't I good enough for you?"

For an hour I cried, and my sobbing turned to a sad song.

I dashed the tears angrily out of my eyes with the back of my hand, glaring at myself in the mirror. A pale and broken ghost stared back at me.

I pulled the blue box containing our photos out of the closet and I went back into the kitchen to check out Kesha's profile on Facebook. I got her address and switched off the laptop. 

I decided to check out her address. I dressed up and applied some makeup. 

I was at her doorstep in the next hour and knocking on the door. Though a part of me didn't want to see her face, the other part was desperate to see the girl Mark betrayed me for.

"Hello," she greeted innocently. 

She was short and her curly, brown hair was packed into a messy bun. Her luminous black eyes were framed with thick, fake eyelashes. A bold red shade of lipstick colored her lips.
She looked pretty, but had a bad taste in fashion. Who would wear such a tacky shirt with a flared satin skirt?

I looked down at her shoes, dull-black, thick middle-sized heels. 

"Focus, Chloé!" I charged myself.

"Hi," I chirped sweetly, extending the pleasantries while throwing the biggest fake smile.

Because I wanted to give her a piece of my mind, I tried my best not to tear up. I had to wait until I got all the information I needed.

"Who are you?" she asked.

'Who am I?' I definitely should not tell her I'm the stupid girlfriend of the boy she'd been cheating with.

"Uh, I'm Mark's step sister," I muttered, shocked with my stupid response. That was the only thing I could come up with.

I could see her face light up and a smile covered up her face.

"Oh! Come in please," she urged, stepping aside so that I could pass.

As I stepped inside, I squeezed my face in disgust at the cheap, worn brown beige furniture.
I sat down on a chair flanked by tables.

On my left, there was a photo of Mark and her kissing. I picked up the photo, and my eyes widened in disappointment as I figured out that it was truly Mark who was in the picture.

"Oh, that was last week," she told me, smiling as she recalled the memory.

"Screw you Mark!" a low but bewildered voice echoed within me.

Taking a deep gulp, I tried my best not to blink to prevent any tears from falling. I was glad I had worn my sunglasses; she couldn't see right through me, nor could she see the emotions portrayed through my glassy eyes.

"How long have you guys been together?" I asked as she came out of the kitchen, bringing two glasses of water. In spite of my impartial tone, I was desperately struggling not to show how hurt I was.

"Uhm, about four months," she answered while handing me one of the glasses.

A dull knife sawed through my broken heart as she spoke those words.

FOUR months!
Mark had been cheating on me for FOUR months.

My throat dried up. I took the glass of water in my trembling hands, to quench my sudden thirst and sore throat. Every sip felt like poison running through my fragile body.

How could have I been so naive? Why hadn't I noticed?

Tears streamed down my cheeks, past my sunglasses. Though I had been determined not to let them fall, I had failed.

I retrieved my apartment's spare key and photos from my purse then tossed them on the table in front of her.

"What are those?" she asked confusingly, picking up the photos. I noticed the disappointment on her face as she glanced through the photos.

Flabbergasted, she stared at me. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry. He never told me he had a girlfriend," she murmured, and I believed her because I had read their messages on Facebook.

"You know what to do."

Without any other word, I wiped my damp cheeks, rose from the chair, and left her staring at the photos.

I returned to the apartment where Mark and I had shared the best time of our lives. At least that's what I'd always thought.

I burned every love letter he wrote me. Then I sat on the bed and screamed from the top of my lungs into a pillow, while tears and mascara dripped from my eyes.

How did I let him do this to me?!

I decided to drop a note for Mark. After locating my notebook, I tore out a sheet of paper.

▪▪
-Guess who left his Facebook open on the computer and got a message from KESHA?
Yeah? YOU!
Don't worry I didn't break anything.
I know you're going to come in and not find your things but don't worry, nothing went to waste.

•You don't have to search for your clothes because I gave them to the homeless man down the street. I just wanted to tell you to save you some time.

•Your video games are where we first kissed!

•Your laptop...well, I forgot where I dropped it after reading the messages.

•MY house keys are at Kesha's and I asked her if she could move in with you.

Everything else, including our pictures, is AT KESHA'S HOUSE!

Have fun! I never want to see your face again. Hurry before someone finds your video games. Happy hunting:) xx

-C

I dropped my pen and then packed my stuff before dropping off his clothes at the spot where the homeless people stay.

I called my father on my way home, .

"Dad, please I want to leave," I pleaded, trying not to sound devastated. "Can they prepare the jet for me?"

"Is something wrong? Did Mark do anything to you? Are you alright?" my father questioned, concerned.

"No. I'm alright. Don't worry," I answered.

After one final glance in the mirror, I dried my tears and scooped my strawberry blonde hair into a bun. All the while, I ignored how swollen my eyelids were and how the rims of my blue eyes had reddened from all the crying.

 I put on my shades and walk downstairs to get into the car.

"Where to ma'am?" the driver asked.

"Airport," I replied.

I kept on thinking of Mark.
How could he do this to me?
Where did I go wrong?
Was I not enough?

Once I stepped onto the plane, I left everything behind. Never would I let my happiness depend on someone else!

Goodbye, London. For good.

▪
"We've landed."

Those words stirred me from my slumber. I checked myself in the mirror and brushed my hair again.

I wanted to see Paige, my childhood best friend, first.
She and I had always been there for each other. I knew every single detail about her. 

Paige was a strong, confident girl - the girl every guy wanted to have and every girl wanted to be. She lived life to the fullest, without regret. She'd never fallen in love and never intends to. Her excuse had always been that love brings nothing but grief.

I had never agreed with her until today.

"Take me to Paige's house," I said as I entered the car.

"Alright ma'am," the driver nodded while taking the bags to the trunk of the car.

******

The instant I entered the house, Paige's signature scent was there to greet me. Memories flashed through my mind, good ones from when we'd run around to when we'd became adults. I wasn't surprised the interior seemed to have changed; Paige had always enjoyed redesigning the house's interior.

I'd missed this house. We'd had many sleepovers here.

My eyes noticed a huge photo of us hanging on her off-white wall. We'd taken this photo in Paris, before I'd met that douche bag. Paige and I used to always travel to Paris during the holidays.

My mom was from Paris. She was the one who'd picked out my name, the name which she loved so dearly. When I was seven, she passed away. I couldn't recall much of our time together, but I did remember the important parts. Like when we frequented the lake in New York to feed the ducks. It had been one of our favorite spots to spend quality time together. Her accent was a fond memory as well. She used to sing me to sleep in French. I still treasured her sweet, comforting voice.

The sound of Paige's Louboutin heels clicked against the cream granite flooring, drawing me out of recollection. I turned to see her striding down the corridor, walking as if she owned the world, as if it had been made just for her.

"Oh, Paige. How typical!" I laughed, startling her.

In her arms were an abundance of shopping bags from Dior, Louboutin, Marc Jacobs, and, of course, a box full of macaroons.Shopping was her biggest reprieve; no matter how many clothes she had, she'd always want more.

Paige loved macaroons. Aside from strawberries, if there's something she can't live without, it's macaroons. Everyone knew about her obsession for them. 

Surprise washed over her face. "Oh my God, Chloé! I've missed you! Are you alright?" She demanded, concerned. She dropped her shopping bags and ran towards me.

Everything came streaming from my mouth. I couldn't hold it in anymore. The messages, Kesha, Mark, the nightmare, the cheating was all so much for one day. My whole world collapsed in one day, shattering my heart. I told Paige how I left everything behind in London, just like how I'd left New York two years ago to move in with Mark. Paige hadn't approved of my decision, though she had still supported me. Today I traded London for New York, and my new life for my old life, the one before I'd stupidly fallen in love with the wrong person.  

"I knew it!"she declared angrily, hugging me tightly.Paige was scared of falling in love. Deep down, I knew it wasn't truly a fear of love, so much as not being loved back or feeling weak.

Between sobs, I explained what Mark had done, the messages, Kesha, and the letter I'd written to him.

"Oh, Chloé don't be sad. You lost someone who didn't love you, but he lost someone who did love him and someone any guy would want to fall in love with. Don't worry. We'll get through this together," she promised, comfortingly.

In a louder voice, she called, "Jane bring some chocolate-dipped strawberries and macaroons."

 Strawberries were her weakness and she'd eat them whenever she could, especially if she was stressed or sad.  

Jane was part of the house help. She'd always been with Paige and I as kids, treating us like the children she'd never had.

"Chloé, long time. We're happy to have you here." Jane delivered the strawberries before preparing to take my bags upstairs.

"Thank you, Jane. I've missed you all," I said. "I'm glad I'm back."

"We all are!" Paige exclaimed as she grabbed her Gucci purse. "And we're going shopping now!"

Paige considered shopping a remedy, a pleasant distraction. Because shopping was the only way she protected her sanity, she thought it would help me, too.

"Again!?" Jane and I simultaneously said, surprised.

"Allons y! We've got no time to waste," Paige insisted while pulling me off the couch.

We spent two hours shopping, laughing and spending our time just like in the past. Paige sure knew how to brighten someone's day.

"Don't you ever get tired Paige?" I asked, exhausted from roaming around the city and shopping.

"Whoever said money doesn't buy happiness didn't know where to shop." She clutched her shopping bags for emphasis. Her eyes widened as she began marching towards a door. "Look at that dress!"

"Paige, I'm going to the cafe," I told her and pointed at the building, "I'm tired."

"No you're not. Look at that bag...isn't it cute?" she inquired distractedly.

"No! We're leaving now!" I held her hand and dragged her towards the car.

"Lame! Let's grab some ice cream on our way home," Paige suggested after disposing off our shopping bags in the back seat. We climbed in the car and headed home.

I was glad to be back.
This place felt more like home than London ever did.

●○•

⚠️The next chapter starts from Paige's pov (the main character)