Chapter 17
1827 Words
Lily held Heather’s arm firmly as she tried to steady her shaking hands. “Don’t worry about her,” Lily whispered, nodding toward Maria, who was laughing and chatting arrogantly at the table. “She’s always been like that.”
Heather forced a smile, but inside her chest felt like it was being squeezed. Every laugh Maria let out, every glance Luke gave her fiancé, made her heart twist painfully. She had promised herself she would leave Luke behind, walk away from the storm of emotions that consumed her, yet here she was again, forced to witness it—forced to be a part of this charade.
“It’s fine,” Heather whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m used to people like her.”
Lily gave her a small, understanding nod. “Come on, it’s lunch break. Let’s get out of here for a bit.”
Heather exhaled shakily, following Lily outside. The sunlight hit her, but it did nothing to warm the ache in her chest. She tried to focus on her steps, on pretending she wasn’t unraveling, but memories of Luke—the way he had looked at her, the tension that had crackled between them—refused to leave her mind.
Then Lily leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Did you hear about the rumors? About Luke and some girl on his live?”
Heather’s heart lurched violently. Panic rose in her throat, and for a split second she felt frozen. “Rumors?” she asked, forcing curiosity into her tone, hiding the fear underneath.
Lily’s eyes darted around to make sure no one else was listening. “He was reckless on live with some girl,” she whispered, “and I just know he lied when he said it was Maria.”
Heather’s stomach dropped. She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “Oh…” she murmured, barely above a whisper.
Lily’s voice softened, though her words carried quiet judgment. “But honestly… his father should let him date whoever he wants. I bet that girl would behave better than Maria.”
Heather’s lips pressed into a thin line. The words struck her like a knife—so true, yet so cruelly impossible. She had loved Luke quietly, secretly, watched him with Maria, and known that she could never compete with what the world saw as “perfect.”
Taking a shaky breath, Heather turned to Lily, her voice low and hesitant. “Lily… can I ask you something?” Her hands clutched her apron tightly, knuckles white.
Lily gave her her full attention, leaning closer. “Anything,” she said softly.
Heather swallowed, struggling to find the words for the storm inside her. “It’s about… a friend of mine,” she said slowly. “She… she likes two men. She was first with one, but now she’s dating the second. And with the first… she keeps a secret, something that could hurt the second guy, who’s loyal, good… too good. Should she… run away? Or choose one?”
Lily paused, thoughtful. Her brow furrowed as she considered the scenario. “Hmm… If I were her… I’d run away,” she said quietly, her voice heavy with meaning. “I’d have nothing to lose… unless I truly loved one. Then… then I’d have to choose. But if my heart’s torn? Running away is the only way to stop hurting anyone. You can’t control what you feel, and you can’t fix what’s already broken.”
Heather nodded slowly, letting Lily’s words sink into her chest. Each word felt like a reflection of her own heart—fragile, conflicted, bleeding with love and guilt. She had tried so hard to forget Luke, to bury her feelings under the safety of being with Jake, yet every glance at Luke, every memory of his touch, pulled her deeper into a storm she couldn’t escape.
Her lips pressed together, quivering, as the tears she refused to shed burned behind her eyes. She stole a glance back toward the house. Luke’s laughter echoed faintly from the dining room, Maria’s voice cut through the air like knives, and Heather felt her chest constrict.
Six hours later, the house had grown quiet again, the kind of quiet that pressed down on Heather’s chest. She stood in the kitchen carefully arranging plates, aligning the cutlery until everything was perfectly straight. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was loud, replaying every word from earlier, every glance Luke had avoided.
The sound of footsteps made her stiffen.
Luke walked in.
He didn’t look at her. Not even once. He went straight to the fridge like she wasn’t there at all, like she was just another piece of furniture in the room. Heather’s heart sank. She knew he shouldn’t act close to her—not here, not now—but the silence felt cruel. Cold. Final.
She swallowed hard and turned slightly toward him.
“Luke, I—”
He cut her off instantly, his voice sharp and impatient. “No. Not again, Heather. Stop this.” He shut the fridge door harder than necessary. “Just do your work.”
The words hit her like a slap.
Not her name spoken gently. Not a quiet explanation. Just an order. A reminder of her place.
Heather’s lips parted. “I… I just—” Her voice cracked, betraying her before she could stop it.
Luke didn’t turn around. “You’re here to work,” he said flatly. “Nothing more. Don’t make things harder than they already are.”
Her mouth closed into a thin, trembling line. Whatever she wanted to say died right there in her throat. She nodded once, forcing herself to look back down at the plates, her hands shaking as she resumed arranging them. Each clink of porcelain sounded too loud, too sharp.
And then, as if the moment needed one final blow—
Maria walked in.
She was dressed effortlessly, sporty leggings hugging her figure, hair flawless, confidence dripping from every step. Heather hated herself for noticing, for admitting—even silently—that Maria was beautiful. Rich. Powerful. Everything Heather wasn’t.
Maria’s eyes flicked to Heather, then back to Luke, her expression instantly changing to mild annoyance.
“Babe,” she said sweetly, looping her arm around Luke’s, “is she bothering you?”
Heather’s breath caught. She didn’t look up. She couldn’t.
Luke shook his head without hesitation. “No.” His voice was calm, dismissive. “She’s fine.”
Fine. Like a task. Like a responsibility. Like nothing.
Maria smirked faintly, satisfied. “Good.” She leaned closer to him. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
Luke finally looked at Maria, his tone softening just enough to hurt. “Yeah. Let’s go.” His eyes swept over her outfit briefly. “You look good.”
Heather’s hands stilled.
That was it.
No glance back. No hesitation. No regret visible on his face.
They turned and walked out together, their voices fading down the hallway. Heather stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway they left behind. Her chest felt tight, like something inside her had cracked open quietly.
She blinked hard, but tears still slipped down her cheeks, landing silently on the countertop. She wiped them away quickly, angrily, as if even crying was something she wasn’t allowed to do here.
She had been reduced to nothing in that moment. Not the girl he once held. Not the one he said he loved. Just “she.” Just “the help.” Just someone who should know better than to speak.
Heather straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to breathe. She picked up the last plate and placed it carefully where it belonged. If anyone walked in now, they would see a calm, professional worker doing her job perfectly.
But inside, she felt hollow.
Luke’s words echoed in her head over and over—just do your work—and with every repetition, something in her heart broke a little more.
She let out a slow breath and leaned against the counter, the kitchen suddenly feeling too quiet. To distract herself, Heather reached for her phone, scrolling mindlessly, letting the glow of the screen numb her thoughts for a moment. Nothing held her attention. Every sound in the house made her chest tighten, every shadow reminding her of Luke’s cold voice earlier.
With a small sigh, she opened Jake’s contact. Her fingers hesitated for a second before she typed.
“What are you doing?”
She hit send and rested her elbow on the counter, staring at the screen like it might answer faster if she willed it to.
One minute passed.
Two.
Three.
Her shoulders sank slightly. By the sixth minute, she exhaled in disappointment and placed the phone face-down, telling herself not to overthink it. He was probably busy. He always was.
Then it buzzed.
Her heart jumped as she grabbed it again. Of course—it was Jake.
Jake: just resting a bit
A small smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Heather: oh… that’s nice
She stared at the message after sending it, unsure what else to say. Everything she wanted to say felt too heavy, too complicated. Before she could spiral further, another notification appeared.
Jake: I’m no longer coming in a week. I’ll come tomorrow.
Her eyes widened. Tomorrow. The word echoed in her mind, stirring both relief and panic.
Heather: I can’t wait to see you
She meant it—or at least she wanted to mean it. Seeing Jake felt safe. Familiar. Predictable. Not like the storm Luke had turned her heart into.
Jake: come pick me up at the airport
Heather smiled faintly, shaking her head at the screen.
Heather: you know I can’t
The reply came quickly.
Jake: I wish you could… can I call?
Her gaze lifted instinctively toward the hallway, toward the rooms where Luke and Maria had disappeared earlier. Her stomach twisted.
Heather: I’m still at work. When I get home, I’ll call you.
A few seconds later, three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.
Jake: alright
She held the phone in her hands for a long moment after that, the warmth of it pressing into her palms. Jake was coming back. Tomorrow. The thought should have made her happy—should have steadied her—but instead it made the knot in her chest tighten.
Because no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, Luke’s words still echoed in her head. His cold dismissal. The way he looked through her like she was nothing more than part of the furniture.
Heather locked her phone and slipped it into her pocket, swallowing hard. She straightened the plates on the counter with shaky hands, forcing herself to focus.
Tomorrow, Jake would be here.
Tomorrow, she would have to pretend everything was normal.
Tomorrow, she would have to face the truth she kept running from.
- Writer
