**Chapter 34** *Nine years ago.* The shrill ping of my phone sliced through the heavy fog of another sleepless night, jolting me awake once again. For two years now, sleep had become a stranger to me, and every passing night felt like an unending struggle. A part of me whispered that it was because of Rowan—my heart and mind mirrored the chaos of my restless insomnia, all because he was absent from my life. The disquiet within me had begun the moment he left for university two years prior. When he was away, sleep eluded me entirely, but whenever he returned home for breaks, I would sink into a slumber as peaceful as a baby’s. Moaning softly at yet another night spent in disarray, I reached for my phone, curiosity piqued. My heart raced with anticipation as I opened the notification. I had paid someone to install an app that allowed me to track Rowan's whereabouts whenever he was in town. The notification blared bright against the dark of my room—Rowan was back. Without a moment’s hesitation, I leaped out of bed, hastily throwing on clothes, adrenaline surging through me. He might be back with Emma, Travis, or Gabe, but that hardly mattered. I just needed to see him again, even if it was from a distance. Once I was ready, I slipped out of my bedroom window. My room was the furthest from the rest of the house, making it nearly impossible for my parents or the staff to hear me crafting my little getaway. I landed softly on the ground, tucked my phone into my pocket, and called an Uber. “This is a terrible idea!” a voice in the back of my mind chastised as I crept toward the car. I pushed the thought aside, my head swirling with fantasies of seeing Rowan. I hadn’t laid eyes on him for months, and my longing felt insatiable. “Ava, don’t go!” the voice pleaded as I swung the car door open, torn between my desires and fears. Ignoring its shrieks, I entered the vehicle and soon we were off into the night. Thirty minutes later, the taxi rolled to a stop outside a worn-out bar that looked like it had seen better days. My heart dropped—the place was a far cry from Rowan's usual hangouts. Frowning, I paid the driver and stepped out, feeling an unsettling mix of excitement and dread in the pit of my stomach. Wrangling my nerves, I squared my shoulders and made my way inside, flashing a fake ID to the bouncer with a pulse of confidence. Once inside, I drifted toward a shadowy corner, scanning the crowd until I spotted him. My breath caught in my throat; he was entirely alone, sitting at the bar. I lingered on the periphery, watching, waiting for someone to join him. Minutes passed in silent agony, but no one approached. He was here by himself. “You’ve had your fill of him; now it’s time to leave,” the damned voice echoed again. This time, I shoved the thought back forcefully. This was my golden opportunity. He was here without Emma, and surely this was a chance for me to break through his defenses. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I approached him, letting the distance shrink between us. “Hey, Rowan,” I managed to greet him, my voice barely above a whisper. His face broke into a dazzling smile, catching me completely off guard. We rarely spoke, and he had spent so much time avoiding me that this unexpected warmth felt unreal. “It’s little Ava!” he exclaimed, excitement dripping from his words. “How have you been?” That’s when it hit me—he was utterly drunk. The glow of his intoxication suddenly lit up the shadowy corners of my doubt. I slid into the empty chair beside him just as he waved down the bartender, ordering two drinks with casual bravado. I took a wary sip of the concoction he shoved toward me; it burned my throat and tasted like regret, but I swallowed anyway. “So, how’s school?” I ventured, feeling a nervous energy build between us. He nudged my shoulder playfully, smirking as he leaned closer. “Is that all you want to know?” “No, I mean, I wanted to ask why you're here drinking alone... but I didn't want to sound rude.” He swayed slightly in his seat, laughing at my hesitation. “You’re cute,” he said, before returning to his drink. My concern for him surged, enveloping me. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to mask the worry lacing my voice. He didn’t seem to hear me as he downed his drink and poured another. Conversation shifted awkwardly until he finally confessed, “She doesn’t want to marry me.” My heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. “Who? Emma?” “Yes,” he said, his voice choked with disbelief. “I asked her to marry me. I had a ring—and I did everything right. I got down on one knee, I took her to a special place… but she turned me down.” Shock coursed through me, and I wrestled with my emotions, torn between relief and heartbreak. “Why wouldn’t she want to marry you?” he asked, the pain in his voice twisting my insides. I spoke cautiously, feeling a warmth build within me. “You’re amazing, Rowan. If she doesn’t want to marry you, then that’s her loss. Seriously, I say screw her. You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are.” He studied me for a moment, conflicted, before finally grinning as he clinked our glasses together. “You’re right. Screw her.” How long we lost ourselves in each other’s company, I couldn’t say. Conversation flowed, laughter intertwined with the buzz of alcohol coursing through our veins. By the time we decided to leave, the world spun around us, exhilaration and tipsiness fueling my every impulse. “Let’s share my hotel room,” Rowan suggested, and before I could process the suggestion, I found myself agreeing. My heart raced as I feared the repercussions, knowing my parents would be furious if they found out I was out past curfew and wandering drunk. A short cab ride later, we stood before his hotel room door. In an instant, it swung open, and the moment it closed behind us, he pressed me against the wall, lips crashing onto mine. “Fuck! I’ve been waiting for this forever,” he slurred, frantically tugging at my clothes until I stood clad only in my underwear, chills racing down my spine. “Are you sure you want this? You want me?” I whispered, uncertainty filling the air; was this reality, or a fantasy crafted by desire? The rush of finally being with him felt almost impossible. “Definitely.” He led me to the bed, and everything spiraled into a haze of sensations—his kisses, his touch, and a love that enveloped us like a warm blanket. It was painful at first, the ache of my innocence, but he whispered sweet nothings, making the moment feel surreal. We pushed boundaries and soon tides turned, both of us cresting waves of pleasure together. “Emma,” he groaned my sister’s name as he reached his climax, and in that instant, the realization hit me hard. As my thoughts began to cloud, dread crept into my mind—what if he was confusing me with her? “Fuck!” The familiar voice shattered my peaceful slumber. Blinking in shock, I sat bolt upright in bed and froze at the sight before me: Rowan, pacing my bedroom, shirtless and wild-eyed. Horror seized me when I registered my own nudity, clutching the sheets to my chest while scrambling backward. “No, no, no!” I babbled to myself as sheer panic clawed at my throat. His eyes narrowed on me, blazing with a tempest of confusion, rage, and betrayal. “What the hell happened?” he shouted, his voice laced with anger. “What are you doing in my hotel room, Ava?” The words felt like stones lodged in my throat. How could I possibly explain this mess? The app, the intoxication, the decision to follow him; it all felt convoluted and wrong. As I hastily gathered my clothes together, shaking hands fumbled with the fabric, the ache in my body a stark reminder of that night. “I—I found you at the bar, and we started drinking. That’s all I remember,” I lied, the truth paining me even more. He glared at me, skepticism etched into his features. “And you expect me to believe that? You’ve been pursuing me since you were twelve! I go out for a drink and you just happen to be there?” His voice thundered, burning with accusation. I allowed my anger to surface, abandoning my self-pity. “You think I planned all this?” I gestured wildly to the disarray surrounding us. “You’re not the only one who was drunk, Rowan!” He ripped at his hair, clearly torn, anguish evident across his face. “What am I going to do? I thought I was being intimate with Emma!” His pain pierced me deeply. He loved her, and I fear that I had unknowingly robbed him of that love. “She’ll never forgive me. She’ll hate me,” he cried, breaking down in front of me. “Because of you, I might lose everything!” Tears brimmed in my eyes as I struggled to quell my own heartache. How could I be the one to hurt him? Seeing him shattered before me clawed at my soul, and I wanted desperately to reach out, to console him. Hesitantly, I took a step toward him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. But he recoiled violently, pushing me back so hard that I stumbled. “Don’t you dare touch me, you bitch!” His words came out in a roar, venomous and cutting. Tears spilled from my eyes. “Rowan, please. I never meant for this to happen.” The devastation in his eyes hit me harder than any blow. “Just get out. I never want to see your face again.” He sank onto the bed, anguish radiating from him—twisted heartbroken and lost. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be alright. But at this moment, I knew he wouldn’t accept my solace. So I left, shame folding around me like a cloak, wishing desperately for the abominable events to erase themselves from memory. Two days later, I heard Emma's voice—furious and dripping with betrayal—echoing from downstairs. “Where is that fucking bitch?” My heart raced uncontrollably, a cold chill creeping down my spine. Rowan had to have told her the truth. Before I could gather myself, Emma stormed into my room, mascara streaked down her cheeks, eyes brewing with rage and pain. She didn’t waste a moment before swinging her hand and slapping me hard. Pain exploded in my cheek, and I accepted her wrath, each hit a token of my penance until I crumpled to the floor, crying. “Emma!” she was about to give me another blow when my father’s voice suddenly intervened. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you hitting your sister?” He stood stock still in the doorway, shocked, with my mother at his side. They had never been fond of me, but witnessing their disappointment now felt like a knife twisting deeper into my heart. “She’s no sister of mine!” Emma screamed, her fury spiraling out of control. My mother fixed her eyes on me, a cold, calculating gaze devoid of love. “What did she do this time? Did she dye your conditioner again?” “I wish it was that simple,” Emma replied, her fists trembling with rage. “That stupid hoe seduced Rowan when he was drunk and slept with him!” What had Rowan told her? Disgust washed over my parents’ faces as they turned on me. As my father’s expression morphed into something unrecognizably furious, I felt shattered. “I didn’t mean to! I was drinking too!” I managed to stammer, yet my voice came out weak, barely a whisper amidst the chaos surrounding me. “Liar!” Emma screamed, her heel connecting with my abdomen. “Rowan would never sleep with you! He loves me, and we all know you’ve been obsessed with him since childhood!” Her words struck like arrows, each one slicing deeper into my soul. How could she accuse me of such a thing? “Daddy, please,” Emma cried, retreating into his protective embrace. “What am I going to do? How can I face Rowan knowing he was with this… this…” She struggled for the words, tears of despair clouding her voice. Father shot me a dark look, one that seemed to regard me only as an outsider. “I didn’t raise you to be a slut, Ava. What you've done is unforgivable.” As the two walked away, leaving me alone on the floor drowning in tears, I couldn’t shake the finality of my mother’s voice as she taunted, “I hope you’re happy now. It’s pathetic that you’d stoop so low just to steal a man who doesn’t belong to you.” Those words hung over me like a toxic cloud. I sat alone, wishing desperately that I could wake from this nightmare, knowing deep down that my life would never be the same.