Just as they say in tales, days passed by and during those days, I learned that pain doesn't simply fade away. I must admit, I'm greatly disappointed with fairytales that promised "time heals pain."

"I can't believe they allow youngsters like you to drive freely," Mum said, a deep frown etched on her face as we both looked out at the car park through Mum's windscreen.

"Yes, Mum, that's because it's legal. You should get me one," I replied.

"It's illegal. You're too young for wheels," she replied without a hint of humour in her words.

"I'm tall enough to see the road," I sarcastically retorted.

"First, learn to remember to fasten your seatbelt," she said, arching a single brow, causing my eyes to roll automatically. "I can see you rolling your eyes at your mother. You should get going before the bell rings. I have some patients waiting at the hospital," she added.

Okay, Mum. And I didn't vacate the continent. Surprised? Here's what happened.

On Leigh's heart-wrenching birthday party night, after I confided in her about most things—excluding the most heinous sins I committed, like stealing my mother's happiness—Evie stayed by my side all night, just like Sawyer did with Mum.

I don't remember falling asleep that night, but I do recall waking up to words of encouragement and promises that everything would be alright, although I still doubt it. Well, afterwards, Evie came up with a plan since she had spent two days losing her mind over the news of my mother's sudden suggestion to transfer.

As I was useless in providing any helpful assistance, Evie had to spend hours convincing my cousin to plant a reminder in my mother's head that not everyone gets lucky twice in a lifetime, and her job pays her well, so she shouldn't let it go so easily.

While I spent my time worrying about Leigh since my phone had been held hostage by my mom, Evie was there during my moments of agony. She became my shoulder to cry on, the backbone of support, my advisor, and most importantly, my best friend. We had many sleepovers at each other's places, mostly at mine since I had been under house arrest for half of January. Yes, my mom grounded me.

During those tormenting days, I only had my freedom once. It was after New Year's Eve when Sawyer's stay finally came to an end—Mom and I drove her to the airport.

Speaking of Sawyer, after the drama on the twenty-seventh of December, my cousin hadn't spoken a word to me. She refused to engage in anything involving me. I accept my mistakes, and I know I've lied and hurt her feelings. I wish I could tell her the truth that lies within me, but in some strange way, I prefer to keep it concealed. I know that letting it out would only result in worse outcomes.

However, grudges don't last forever. I believed that as the boarding of her flight began, and just like that, Sawyer and I let go of the past and focused on the present. It was like a tradition for us to weep like babies every time we were about to part, just like at the end of summer back in London when I had to officially move here. Sawyer and I became highly emotional. Oh, and before she boarded, she threatened to haunt me if I dared to break my mother's heart again... speaking of hearts, Xavier was completely broken and refused to leave the airport even when his girlfriend's plane had departed. That day, Mom had to grant me some additional freedom for the sake of the poor boy with braces. I silently sat next to him until he was ready to leave the crowded airport.

"I'll see you later, and remember to eat something healthy when you get home. You can't always depend on cereal," she repeated her usual weekday speech.

"I'll try," I responded, as I always do, with a smile.

"Thank you, and try harder, because your 'trying' means there's no chance," she replied with a smile, and I giggled. "Now, here's your tea. Stay safe." She handed me my tea flask, gave departing kisses on my cheeks, and said, "I love you, my baby."

"I love you too," I replied, giving back the affection, and hopped out of the SUV.

Yes, this is our recent routine. Mom drives me to school, reminds me to make a healthy meal when I get back home, we exchange 'I love you's,' and all that stuff.

Honestly, I'm proud of my mom for being strong. I wish there was a way I could erase all the pain she's burying inside.

With the tea flask that Sawyer had given me for Christmas, I headed towards the school building, intentionally avoiding the four pairs of eyes near the red Ferrari.

As I stepped foot in the hallway, I was welcomed by a banner announcing the cheetahs vs. bullocks match scheduled for the fourteenth of February. It was the same day the school would be showcasing its classic Romeo and Juliet drama, which explained why audition posters were plastered all over the hallways. Additionally, Sofia Halt was hosting a house party on the same day.

Dressed in my antique high-waisted jeans, a white open-necked t-shirt under a camel pea overcoat, and sporting a beige backpack that matched my boots, I walked the hallways of Hills High, receiving admiring stares and sweet compliments.

"Hey, love," and that's where I'll begin with the story. "Wait a minute, baby... Ava," she struggled to reach me in the middle of the bustling hallway, bringing me face to face with my greatest sorrow—Sofia Halt—and the only boy I've ever loved.

I guess I never mentioned that Leigh, the cheerleading captain, and Sofia had become inseparable. Since the start of the school year, they rode together, hung out in the lunchroom together, and worked out together. Apart from the hatred directed at the four mean girls, it was one of the reasons I opted out of cheering—I couldn't bear witnessing the flirtatious scenes in the gymnasium when Leigh was involved. I knew I was nothing but an audience, just like everyone else.

Throughout the past week, I struggled with the image of someone I thought was mine and the girl I knew I couldn't compete with, because Sofia was way out of my league. She was the kind of girl that no man could say no to. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was also wealthy and popular—she had it all. Her radiance easily overshadowed anyone standing next to her. The worst part of my current situation, which hurts like hell, is knowing that every day I walk these hallways, I have to witness Leigh next to Sofia. Oh, and she still admires me.

Sometimes, I wonder if she genuinely admires me, or if this is her way of ridiculing me. I can't entirely blame Leigh for making this decision, as he had tried to talk to me on numerous occasions.

I want to believe that he's using Sofia Halt as a cover-up, to appease his father and ward off any suspicious individuals who might think we're together. But we haven't discussed this, and it scares me.

What if he starts desiring her? What if he stops desiring me? I can't think without tears threatening to spill down my face.

Honestly, ever since that night at his house, I can barely believe Leigh and I have the future he claims. I've avoided speaking to him, even after my mom returned my mobile phone.

It hurts like hell to believe that he gave up on us so quickly. Not that I should be surprised, considering the way he treated Christmas at his son's birthday. I should have known this would happen sooner.

But whatever happened, I brought it upon myself. I pushed him away, only he couldn't wait a little longer. He didn't try harder.

I swallow the lump in my throat and avert my eyes, looking everywhere but at Leigh. "I have a presentation." It's not entirely a lie; I do have a presentation in my social studies class, and it happens to be my first period.

"The bell hasn't rung, Ava," she stares at me through narrowed eyes before continuing. "What I want to say is you look like a captivating British pie. I want to marry you." She pouts childishly. "Baby, isn't she cute?" She tilts towards her dear boyfriend. Baby, really? Give me a break.

"She's alright," he nonchalantly answers, and I tighten my grip on the strap of my backpack and bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the tears burning my eyes.

I'm alright?

What an asshole.

"Wait, we should take a picture together. I have to update my Instagram this morning with a caption like 'I JUST MET A PRETTY WOMAN.'" Sofia grins widely. "Leigh, would you mind taking the shot?" She holds out her phone to the biggest asshole the universe has ever known.

My heart is racing hard in my chest. I can't think of a logical way out of this torment.

He's close, and I'm starting to lose it. His smell, his magnetic arms, everything about him is pulling me and crushing me at the same time.

"I don't think the back camera is working," he reluctantly informs her after we've been posing for almost six seconds.

"But how is that possible? It was working perfectly the last time I checked," she frowns.

With a shrug, he replies, "I don't know."

I finally find my voice and croakily announce, "I should go," intending to step away from the distressing reality that hits like a nail in the middle of my head. But Sawyer tightens her clutch around my waist, denying me an escape.

"Can you please use your phone? You can share it through Airdrop afterwards," she tells the person who has scratched out my existence from his life. "Ava, I'm sorry for the delay, but we need a picture. You look like a diva, and you know how I can be." Yes, you always get what you want. My eyes mentally roll at her.

Her strong perfume slaps me in the face, and I find it hard to articulate how I feel inside. I must be pale, or even blue, in this nerve-racking situation.

"Thank you," I quietly mutter, and the asshole's mobile phone flashes a bright light, signaling that the shot has been taken—or rather, my freedom from this moment.

"Hey babe, I forgot. That boring teacher says to tell you to meet her when you're free." Sofia Halt informs Leigh, and I wince at the possibility of his teacher's needs. Is he still having an affair with her? I hope not. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me when Sofia spun to face me with a smirk playing on her coral lips. "Ava, you really need to come back to the squad. I can't do this without you. The school needs you." And here we go, the regular suggestion, like every other morning. I don't know how many times I have to turn down her offer.

"It has never been my thing. I don't have a passion for cheerleading."

"Swimming is your thing? You're the slow student I heard," she warily stares at me. The asshole beside her snorts, and she shoots him a warning glare.

"I'm not good at athletics."

"You're damn good at flying," she retorts.

"Well, thank you, but I have things to take care of, like my presentation right now." I begin backing away.

"I'll tag you on Instagram. Get ready for an explosion in your notification box," she cheerfully smiles, and I force a miserable smile back before turning on my heels as quickly as I can, just as I have done every weekday for a week now.

I still don't understand why Leigh chooses to rub this painful hurt in my chest every morning. And what confuses me even more is: did we break up our parents for this?

I might have reactivated my Instagram, but it's been a while since I updated my profile. I'm surprised I still receive new followers, considering my inactivity. "Alright," I nod once and stride into the crowd, but I catch her next words. "If you're not into athletics, then I guess you should try drama. Mrs. Gomez could use a gorgeous English Juliet."

Like a disease, that's how everyone in the hallway steps away from me. If they weren't looking at me with esteem, I would mentally plead for my funeral.

Turning around, I find the cheerleader captain winking and smiling, then snuggling against the place I once found solace: Leigh's chest. I waste a whole minute in the same spot, even when the crowd has returned to their personal business.

"Hey, you look like a sweetheart. Marry me," Evie pulls me into a hug, and my eyes involuntarily roll.

"I guess I'll be marrying two ladies today," I sarcastically say as I angrily stuff my backpack's contents into my locker.

"Nah, honey. I'm the jealous one. I only want you to myself. But if you're talking about Sofia Halt, then with all pleasure, count me in. You can marry her so I can slice her into pieces, roast her with barbecue sauce, and feed her to the cats. I hate her," she groans silently.

"Tell me about it," I mumble in an equally hushed tone before my phone buzzes.

And there it is, an early morning treat for my twenty-two thousand Instagram followers.

"She wasn't kidding about the caption," I mumble under my breath.

***

"Who is Jane Austen to you?" Mrs Murphy asks the entire class.

"May I?" A junior raises his hand.

It's third period, and it's yet another multigrade class.

"Go ahead, Mr. Connor." With a nod, the teacher grants him permission to answer the question.

"Easy... she wrote books girls wouldn't get over," he presumptuously says, feeling proud of himself, and low chuckles take over the homeroom. I can't help but want to smash him in the face.

"Anyone?" Mrs Murphy ignores Mr Connor's poor ability to see the world as it is. "Miss Brown?" She gestures to the left side of the class where the dangerous quadruplets are seated.

"I'm sick, Mrs. Murphy. I can barely speak," Suri clearly lies, as she had been whispering since the class started.

"It's a shame that none of you can defend yourselves in literature," Mrs Murphy complains.

"I've read Fifty Shades of Grey and seen the movie. I'm quite a literalist," Eric Joseph stupidly says, gaining pats on the back as if he wasn't a guy with a brain full of nonsense. Extremely annoyed, my instincts react before I can stop myself.

"A literalist is someone who adheres to the exact words and translates them literally. I doubt that's what you meant," I blurt out.

"What?" Now I have gained everyone's attention, but it's my honour when it comes to class arguments.

"Miss Lancelot, do you have something to say to the class?" Mrs Murphy questions me.

I take a calm breath and begin, "I believe Jane Austen is one of the best classic authors of all time. She had a gift for keenly observing human nature and portraying life from her perspective, with a particular focus on true romantic relationships. She truly understood women, and for years, they have loved her for it. I refuse to believe that anyone could ever tire of her modest, beautiful, and educational books. She wasted no words in her writing. Through her words, she depicted true love, society, and an understanding of people with biting irony and realism. She completed Pride and Prejudice when she was only twenty-one, one of the world's classic books. The sincerity and charm of her characters are another intriguing aspect of her writing; she has inspired many lives. Honestly, I must say there isn't an Austen book I have encountered that I didn't like."

"Well, aren't you the Juliet I've been looking for?" Mrs Gomez from the drama club leans against the doorframe with the proudest smile on her face. "Please meet me in my office when you're free. We need to start rehearsals soon," she adds before spinning out of the classroom.

"Thank you, Miss Lancelot. Please take your seat," Mrs Murphy instructs. "I hope you all have gained something from what she said."

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't we? It's like Mother Teresa dreaming of a happily ever after anyway," Embry responds mockingly.

"Embry, seriously?" I hear Quinn mumble to her friend.

"It doesn't happen often, does it? Lancelot, you've got some lecture from the junior here. It must hurt hanging on your copy-cat vehicle hood every day with Boyce and Halt riding to school together when all you ever wanted was to replace Hailey Morgan. But... you'll have to wait until they're crowned king and queen at prom. That's when Lancelot gets lectured about years of dreaming, or maybe... nightmares, is it, Wesley?"

No way!

Did Lisa Austen just defend me?

Evie shoots me a surprised glance, and then someone slaps a desk at the back of the classroom.

Jaw clenched and fists white, Embry spits, "Who the fuck do you think you are, sophomore?"

"Behave yourselves," Mrs Murphy's stern tone brings everyone's attention back, and the class falls silent again.

"I think I'm improving in swimming," I say after ending a long phone conversation with Sawyer.

"Mmm," Evie mumbles.

I choose to follow the school bus to my new neighbourhood, as Evie will also be going there after school resumes from the holiday.

"I'm twentieth now," I brag.

"That's because Foley quit, Ava. You're still last," she exhales loudly, matter-of-factly, and sinks into her seat.

"Stop making it sound like it's a bad thing," I fire back.

She rolls her eyes in boredom. "It's terrible. You need to go back to cheering."

"I'd rather eat an overnight lobster than go there," I confidently state.

She looks at me with a concerned look. "But you can't let Leigh or that lame girl take away what you have."

"It's not about him. I've never loved cheering. Sofia forced me into it, and now I have no interest in it."

"I understand you," she shrugs and leans back.

My eyes are narrow as I observe her. Wasn't she the persistent girl who wouldn't give up just a moment ago? "You do?"

"Of course. With most girls despising you and your almost stepbrother, who has turned into a jerk, you need a break," she says, pulling out her mobile phone from her jacket pocket.

I shake my head. "No, he's not just a jerk. Leigh is the new asshole."

"Precisely," Evie giggles, inclining her head while scrolling down her mobile phone. "I like your new post. I'm sure everyone does. You've got almost two thousand likes in thirty minutes."

Before Evie's words register in my head, my eyes find Lisa sitting next to her sidekick from across the aisle, and I smile at her as a gesture of gratitude for what she did for me earlier. But instead, her upper lip curls up into a sneer, and she mouths, "I hate you," before looking away.

Whatever. I heave a sigh, and then Evie's words sink in.

"What are you talking about?" I practically yell.

"Your Instagram?" she asks, puzzled.

My fingers quickly dig into my backpack and pull out my mobile phone. Tapping on Instagram and opening my profile, I find a recent post that I didn't make.

Panicked, I horrifiedly blurt out, "I've been hacked! I didn't post that."

"What? Damn, girl." She raises her eyebrows and motions to my mobile phone screen. "You need to reset your password immediately," she emphasises.

Without hesitation, I start the process. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

"But who would do such a thing?" she asks, confused.

"I don't know. It must be a hacker," I say, wholly focused on the screen.

"Yes, a hacker, but who? And why did they choose to post your decent picture rather than anything offensive? Because whoever posted that picture is someone you posed for. The camera is facing you directly."

That grabs my attention.

"Oh my goodness," I murmur.

"What? Does it ring any bells?" Her eyes widen.

Ping*

Leigh: I thought it's time you check IG. P.S. Nice beret.

Nice? Wasn't I just okay earlier?

"The asshole."

***

It's Wednesday afternoon, just before the final bell rings, when the swimming coach informs all his students that we have permission to load onto a school bus. We're heading to a swimming centre for practice. Everyone thinks it's a bit much since our swimming pool is spacious enough. But the kids all wanted to leave school and have some fun outside the toxic environment. Take the last words as mine.

The ride to our first destination, which is about to close for the day, is quite eventful, considering it's almost two in the afternoon. But the staff are nice, and they give us an extra hour, extending their usual closing time.

After what shouldn't be considered brunch, we leave the restaurant and make our way to our final destination, which is just a few blocks away.

Realization hits me as to where we're heading, and I instantly know I made a wrong choice coming here.

I follow behind the group of students, each step getting heavier than the previous, while I silently pray to make it out of here without having to encounter him.

Evie is beside me, and I'm sure she can sense my restlessness.

As we turn a corner and the sound of excited kids echoes, I realize my prayers haven't been answered.

Who lets their kids swim in January? Crazy people, that's who.

I don't know whom to blame right now, the parents or the universe for bestowing this fate upon me.

If Leigh is coaching those kids, I don't think I can handle it.

My legs weaken, and my foot feels glued to the concrete floor. Forgetting the purpose of my arrival, I steal a glance from my angle.

And there he is. Leigh stands beside the pool, wearing cargo shorts and a whistle necklace around his neck over a white sleeveless shirt. His hair looks damp, with strands sticking to his forehead.

Suddenly, I feel the urge to walk over and push his soft, silky hair back. I want to feel it between my fingers.

And suddenly, I feel lonely. I miss him.

I swallow the bitterness in the back of my chest. I honestly don't know how we got here. Leigh and I didn't have a fight; I only needed some time for myself that night, and then I lost my phone for two weeks. Yes, I might have been distant and avoiding him, like the coward that I am, but I didn't want to believe that he and I are over.

I don't know what to do if I get stuck in this game, where he's succeeding with someone who isn't me.

Seeing the steam rising from the pool, I realize the water must be warm, but it still doesn't make reasonable sense. Couldn't they wait until spring to send their kids here?

"Butterfly," Leigh loudly instructs, roaming back and forth around the pool as the kids stretch their arms wide open.

"Front crawl to the edge, return with a second submerge," he claps his palms together, and the kids follow his instructions.

"Now I want backstrokes, surprise me, guys," he twirls the cap of a water bottle and takes a gulp. I watch his Adam's apple move up and down his perfect neck. "Tamara, ears in the water, stretch your body as long as possible. Jo, keep your legs long with pointed toes. Exactly, that's correct," he paces to the edge of the pool after placing the bottle on a bench.

The gleeful kids energetically move in the water as if they were born for it. My eyes fall on the least fastest kid in line, and my mind takes me back to my own swimming class. My coach must have been feigning his irritation, or so I am sure. It must be hard training someone who doesn't improve at all.

"Bryce, you're doing good. Stretch your arms a little more."

And when all the kids are floating on the water, Leigh bends his trunk, his palms holding his knees, and he softly tells the kids, "And now breathe calmly."

"He's so good," Evie breathes.

"He is," I agree, watching him smile at a kid moving in a straight line.

"Can we submerge underwater like you do?" one of the kids pleads.

"Let's make it this way: I will teach the best backstrokers how to dive into the water and stay submerged for ten seconds, like a shark."

"I'll be the best backstroker, Leigh, I promise," some little girl rushes to say before all the kids begin reciting the same.

"Well, I need proof from all of you," he playfully raises an eyebrow, and just like that, they're back to training.

I watch him silently from a distance. He's like an angel, completely loved and admired by everyone, both adults and young people alike.

I didn't know I was smiling until it starts fading, replaced by fear as reality kicks in.

In a mini purple skirt, Sofia Halt saunters over to him, her stilettos crackling sharply against the floor. She closes the distance between them, her hands snaking around his waist.

It rips me apart. This wasn't just a game; it was real. She wasn't just a cover-up; she's Hailey's replacement.

With red cheeks, she waggles her eyebrows at him, and a teasing smile spreads across her lips as he mutters something to her.

Shamelessly, he leans in and kisses her forehead, and then her hair. The gesture is too intimate, sending a penetrating pain through my chest, making me instantly nauseous.

The sight before me freezes me, as if the entire world's clock had stopped. My blood runs cold, and the tips of my fingers and toes begin to freeze. Anger and sorrow flood me like never before. My eyes well up with tears from the pain that springs into my sight. I can't swallow the hard lump in my throat. I know there's nothing I can do anymore.

His eyes lazily travel from his priority to the kids in the pool, and then they suddenly fall on me.

Like a push, that's how I shove backward, and my blurry eyes lock with his perfect ones. My heart hammers in my chest, and my veins burn with different emotions. I shake my head in denial of what I see, but I still wake up from my dream. She wasn't just a cover-up; Leigh had really given up on us.

"Ava?" I feel Evie's touch on my skin.

Unaware, I take a step back and exhale through my mouth. "Can... you... I... I should go," I stammer, unable to form coherent words. I break the gaze and spin around, racing out of the building as fast as I can.

What happened to wanting only me?

Mom was right, Earth is probably more painful than hell.