Love Unscripted

✨Chapter Seven:Doors that Shouldn't be Opened

The school bell rang like freedom itself.

I grabbed my bag, ignoring the buzzing chatter of students eager to spill into the afternoon. Telly gave me a small smile and a wave as we parted ways, and Thierry tossed me a joke“Don’t miss me too much” before disappearing down the hallway.

I didn’t say much in return. The day had taken a toll—between Sasha’s snide comments and the emotional whiplash from my talk with the principal, i just wanted quiet.

But quiet wasn’t what waited outside.

Standing by the gate, arms folded and looking out of place in his pressed shirt and clean car, was Bryan. Nick’s driver. He spotted me instantly and waved me over.

My stomach dropped.

Bryan only showed up when Nick didn’t want to see me. I didn’t need to ask why.

I slid into the front seat, buckled my seatbelt, and avoided his eyes.

Bryan didn’t start the engine right away. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know Nick’s upset,” he said, glancing at me. “Said you were rude to the principal this morning.”

I scoffed and turned to the window. “I wasn’t even mad. We talked. Like, really talked.”

Bryan nodded but didn’t push. He started the car, letting the radio hum quietly as we pulled away from Wheelerslane.

The drive home was mostly silent. A few awkward starts to conversation that fizzled out fast. I didn’t want to explain myself—not to Bryan, not to Nick, not to anyone.

By the time we reached the house, the sun was hanging low in the sky, throwing orange light across the walls. Bryan parked but didn’t get out. I did.

“Thanks,” i muttered as i shut the door.

As i approached the front steps, voices drifted out from inside.

Loud ones. Angry ones. Familiar ones.

I slowed.

“…She’s not staying here much longer, Keston,” my mother’s voice snapped through the half-closed window. “She’s your responsibility too!”

“I’ve taken responsibility,” Nick’s voice shot back. “I feed her. I drive her. I signed the school forms. You, on the other hand, emotionally distanced yourself from her for half her life and now you act like you’re doing her a favor.”

“You think she wants to be here with you? She’s my daughter.”

“Then act like it.”

I froze at the door.

The words hit harder than i expected. Cold. Sharp. Real.

I stood there, one hand on the knob, heart pounding. Every word—every insult, every accusation—landed square in my chest.

I wasn’t supposed to hear this.

I wished i hadn’t.

Inside, something crashed—maybe a cup, maybe someone’s pride.

“I’m not keeping her here just for you to float in and out,” Nick growled. “If she’s staying, it needs to be decided now. No more half-measures.”

There was silence. Then my mother said, quieter this time, “She reminds me too much of myself. That’s the problem.”

I let go of the doorknob.

I took a shaky step back. Then another. I didn’t want them to know i was there. I didn’t want to walk in and see the fake smiles they’d slap on like it never happened.

I walked around the back instead.

Climbed in through the window of the spare room and curled up on the bed—not mine, not anyone’s—and stared at the ceiling.

I had no idea where i belonged. But right now, it didn’t feel like here.