Episode 12
1146 Words
The afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows of the campus café, catching on Marilyn’s hair like threads of gold. She sat alone at a corner table, slowly stirring her untouched cappuccino. Her fingers trembled lightly around the cup, but her expression was composed—too composed for someone still reeling.
It had been days since the fallout with Xavier. The betrayal had cut deep, but something within her, some foolish spark of hope, still clung to the memory of how he used to look at her when no one else was watching. Maybe, just maybe, he’d made a mistake and regretted it. Maybe there was still a reason to believe in what they had—what she thought they had.
She sighed and pulled her phone closer. Xavier had sent a message that morning:
"Can we talk? I messed up. Please."
He hadn’t said much else. No explanations. No apologies yet. But Marilyn found herself wondering what if. What if there was a side to the story she hadn’t heard? What if he truly cared and had just let his ego and immaturity get the better of him?
Her heart clenched painfully. Against all logic, she was preparing herself to forgive. Maybe not fully. Not yet. But enough to listen.
Just as she reached for her bag, intent on meeting him at the quad like he suggested, a shrill voice cut through the café.
“Well, well. Isn’t it Miss Heartbreak herself.”
Marilyn looked up and immediately tensed. Cathy, one of the cheer squad captains, stood near the counter with a group of her friends. Dressed in a cropped hoodie and pleated skirt, her confidence radiated like poison.
Cathy strutted over, eyes scanning Marilyn from head to toe with exaggerated disdain. Her voice was sugar-laced and venomous. “Still here pretending to be all innocent and wounded? Girl, you’ve got some nerve.”
Marilyn blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry—what?”
Cathy leaned in, her fake smile fading. “You think people don’t talk? That you could play both Xavier and Lucas and no one would notice?”
Marilyn stood slowly, confusion morphing into controlled anger. “I never played anyone. You don’t know anything about me.”
Cathy gave a sharp laugh. “Oh honey, I know plenty. And so does the rest of the school. In fact, thanks to Xavier’s oh-so-charming friends, a lot of people know about the bet.”
Marilyn’s breath hitched. “What bet?”
The world seemed to tilt just slightly. Cathy leaned in closer, savoring the moment.
“You really didn’t know?” she purred. “Xavier made a bet with his friends—weeks ago. Said he could get you to fall for him. Said it would be fun to pull the 'sweet girl' act and then move on. Classic player move.”
Marilyn’s knees almost gave out. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” Cathy said smugly, tilting her head. “But his friends love to brag when they drink. You’re all they talk about. You’re the joke of every weekend party. ‘The virgin they cracked.’ ‘The prize he won.’” She said the words slowly, relishing each one.
Marilyn’s vision blurred.
Cathy continued, “And now you’re hanging out with Lucas, like some desperate puppy trying to latch onto the next brother in line. Don’t you feel pathetic?”
The insult burned, but not as much as the truth it carried. Marilyn had opened herself up—completely—to Xavier. She had trusted him. Let him in. And now the very thing she thought was special had been reduced to nothing more than a game.
“Why are you telling me this?” Marilyn whispered, her voice tight.
Cathy shrugged, suddenly bored. “Because you needed to hear it. And because it’s hilarious watching you play pretend, acting like the good girl when you’re just another story they tell.”
She turned and sauntered away, leaving Marilyn trembling and hollow.
Marilyn barely remembered leaving the café. The walk back to her apartment felt like a fog, her chest heaving with each breath she took. She collapsed onto the couch, heart racing, hands trembling. Her thoughts spun in every direction. Had Lucas known about the bet? Had he pitied her? Was she really just a fool between brothers?
A sudden knock at the door startled her. She froze.
“Marilyn?” It was Lucas.
She opened the door slowly. Lucas took one look at her tear-streaked face and stepped inside, concern etched into every line of his face.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
Marilyn stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. Any hint that he’d known what his brother had done. But all she saw was honest worry and—pain.
“Did you know?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “About Xavier’s bet?”
Lucas stiffened. “What?”
“That it was all a game. That he made a bet to get me to fall for him, to sleep with him—just to win some twisted challenge.”
Lucas stepped back, his expression darkening with realization. “No. Marilyn, I swear—I didn’t know.”
“But you knew something,” she said quietly. “Didn’t you? You were always warning me. Telling me to be careful.”
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I knew he was reckless. That he didn’t take relationships seriously. But I never thought he'd… make a bet. That’s not just immature. That’s cruel.”
Silence fell between them. Marilyn swallowed hard.
“I was actually going to meet him today,” she whispered. “I was going to give him another chance. I thought maybe I misunderstood everything. That maybe he really cared.”
Lucas looked at her with such gentleness it almost broke her again. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“I feel sick,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Everyone knows. They’re all laughing at me.”
“No,” Lucas said, stepping closer. “They don’t get to laugh. And he doesn’t get to win.”
Marilyn met his eyes. For the first time in days, she saw something solid—safe—in him. Not passion. Not confusion. Just presence. Real and unwavering.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Tears threatened again. She let out a shaky breath.
Lucas looked at her gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Marilyn closed her eyes. She didn’t know what came next—what would happen between her and Lucas, or how she’d face Xavier again. But she knew one thing: the illusion had shattered. And in its place, something honest was beginning to grow.
- Writer
