Elona’s POV
The late morning sun spilled through the curtains of my old bedroom, bathing everything in a soft, golden light. It was one of those quiet days where time felt like it moved underwater, slow, thick, and distorted by painkillers and exhaustion. My body ached in places I couldn’t quite locate, and my heart? It throbbed like a dull bruise I couldn’t massage away. Recovery was more than physical.
I had been moved to my dad’s house after the hospital released me early this morning. They said I needed quiet, comfort, and supervision. I wasn’t sure I had any of those things except quiet. The silence here was loud in its own right. I had just managed to doze off again when I heard the door creak open. I looked up to see my father standing in the doorway, his hand resting on the edge of the door frame like he needed to lean on something before speaking.
“Elona,” he said gently, almost like he wasn’t sure if I was awake.
I blinked. “Yeah?”
He walked in slowly. He looked different, as if he was nervous. Like a man about to confess something or ask for forgiveness. He rubbed the back of his neck before sitting down at the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle me.
“I know you’re recovering, and this might not be the best time,” he began, avoiding my eyes, “but I need to talk to you about something. Something important.”
That caught my attention. I pushed myself up against the headboard, wincing slightly at the pull in my lower back. “Okay… What is it?”
There was a long pause before he said it. “It’s about Cris.”
Immediately, my mind raced. “Cris?” I repeated, confused. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” he said. Then he took a breath. “Actually… it’s about me and Cris.”
My stomach twisted. “What do you mean… ‘you and Cris’?”
He looked down at his hands, clasped together like he was trying to keep them from shaking. “We’ve been… seeing each other. Sneaking around, I guess.”
I blinked. Once and then twice. “What?”
“It started before she began dating Spooky,” he said quickly, like trying to explain would make it better. “We didn’t plan for it to happen. But… one thing led to another. We’ve kissed. We’ve… more than kissed.”
The words struck me like ice water to the face. “You… you were the one?” I whispered. “The one who ruined her relationship with Spooky?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The shame was already plastered all over his face. “Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “You let me think it was someone else. You and Cris hurt Spooky. You allowed Cris to hurt me too with her hurtful words when I was going through my breakup with Tristan and you were still with her?”
“It wasn’t my place to-”
“It wasn’t your place?” My voice cracked. “Dad, she was my best friend. I have forgiven her, but when I told her about me and Tristan, she lashed out and this is supposed to be okay because she is in the same boat. He was-Spooky was-he didn’t deserve that. He still doesn’t.”
“I know,” he said softly, but there was no defense. Just defeat. “But after what happened between you and Tristan, I couldn’t judge her. I didn’t have a right to.”
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
He finally looked at me. “Maybe not. But I didn’t want to lie to you either. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, my chest rising and falling too fast. Too shallow. “I just thought you should know,” he finished. Then he stood, walking to the door with that same slow, careful energy he had walked in with. “I have to go away for a few days for work. Tristan will be checking in on you.”
“Of course he will,” I muttered bitterly, then looked up. “Is that where you really go when you disappear? Or is it sneaking off with her?”
He didn’t answer.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I lay there, stunned. The betrayal clawed at my throat like a scream I couldn’t release. I stared at the ceiling, blinking back the blur that gathered at the edges of my eyes. I didn’t cry. Not yet. Not fully. The tears burned but didn’t fall, as if my body knew I had cried enough for one lifetime already.
My father and Cris.
The words circled like vultures in my mind. Picking at everything I knew. Everything I trusted. All of it suddenly painted in shades of deception. And he-he let me confide in him about her. About Spooky. About the pain I thought she caused with some nameless stranger. And all along, he was the stranger.
I threw the covers off me as nausea swirled in my gut. My lower abdomen tensed, a reminder that I wasn’t supposed to be moving so much yet. But physical pain was easier to bear than emotional collapse. At least when my body ached, I could name the reason. I could point to the bruise or the wound and say, there... it hurts here. But heartbreak? Betrayal? Those were invisible wounds with no clear edges. No bandages. No medicine.
My father with my best friend.
I stood and walked over to the mirror, gripping the edges of the vanity as I stared at myself. My eyes looked tired and hollow, like someone else had moved in behind my face and was pretending to be me. What else don’t I know? The question twisted like a knife in my side. I thought the worst pain I could feel had already happened. When I lost the baby. When Tristan and I fell apart. When Spooky walked away from Cris, and Cris walked away from me. But this...this betrayal wasn’t a single clean stab. It was a slow, cruel erosion. The kind that eats away at your trust in everyone.
A knock at the door jolted me. “Elona?” a voice called, soft, but unmistakable. Tristan. I didn’t move. He knocked again, more gently this time. “I know you’re in there. I’m here to take care of you,” I closed my eyes.
The timing was cruel. Cruel and perfect. “Come in,” I said, barely above a whisper. The door opened slowly, and Tristan stepped in. His expressionwas tight with tension. His eyes swept over me, noticing, maybe, the disheveled hair, the storm behind my tired face, the way I leaned against the vanity like I might fall apart if I didn’t hold onto something. “Elona,” he said again, softer. I didn’t answer.
He stepped closer, but not too close, like he wasn’t sure if I wanted to be touched. Maybe he was learning me again, in real time. Maybe he could already sense I was fraying at the seams. “Are you okay? You look pale,” he asked with concern.
“I’m... fine,” I replied.
“I went to see Delance and Grace.”
I flinched. The words hit like a slap. “You did what?”
“I had to,” he said calmly, but firmly. “What they did was wrong, and I had to see them about it. I warned them to stop.”
I turned my head sharply, breath catching in my throat. “Tristan…” I whispered. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
His jaw tightened. “They were out of line. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Especially not now.”
I stepped away from the vanity, crossing the room despite the dull pain in my belly. “You don’t understand, Delance is the industry. If she blackballs me, if she says I’m difficult, unprofessional-”
“She won’t.” His voice was low but unyielding. “I made sure of that.”
I looked up at him. “You can’t protect me from everything. Not in this world.”
“I can try,” he said. “And I will.”
My legs gave way just enough that I had to sit on the edge of the bed. Tristan moved immediately, kneeling in front of me, his hands hovering near my knees like he was still afraid to touch unless invited. “She already saw potential in me, and I was pushing to be the best, and now she might just hate me much more,” I said. “Now I’m the girl who needed her boyfriend to fight her battles.”
He leaned in, finally letting his hands rest gently on my thighs. “No. You’re the woman recovering from something she shouldn’t have had to go through alone. And if they want to make you out to be something else? Let them try. I’ll handle the fallout.”
I stared down at him, into those green eyes that always seemed to see too much. There was fury there, but under it, there was pain, guilt, maybe even helplessness. He took a breath. “Your dad just left. I watched him load a few bags into his car. He asked me to take care of you while he would be away for a few days.” I said nothing. “He looked… like a man trying to run from something,” Tristan added. “Cris is currently at my house to grab a few things of Estelle’s old work, and she will continue to look into VFS.”
My chest tightened. “I don’t want her to do that.”
“No,” he said. “She will expose them because there are more girls and I will not let them be treated that way too.” There was no use in fighting this when it came to the other girls too.
I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
He stood, and his presence seemed to fill the room in a way nothing else could. He reached for me then, gently, slowly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me against him. I melted into the warmth of his chest, pressing my cheek to the fabric of his t-shirt, inhaling his scent.
“I’ll go home and pack a bag,” he said softly, his lips brushing the top of my head. “While your father’s gone… I will stay here with you for as long as you need.”
My throat closed, too full to speak. He let the hug linger before finally stepping back, giving me a look that said more than words could: You’re not alone. Not anymore. Then he walked to the door, pausing in the doorway like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. He just gave me a last glance and left.
The room was quiet again. But this time, the silence didn’t ache quite as much. I sat there a moment longer before standing again and crossing to the mirror. My reflection hadn’t changed. Still tired. Still fragile. But this time, something had flickered behind my eyes. A sliver of resolve. A spark of something that hadn’t been there before.
Hope? Maybe.
But as my thoughts drifted back to Delance and Grace, I couldn’t help but think if she could really destroy me. And worse… had Tristan made it worse by confronting them?
What if I became the scandal? The unstable model, the whisper behind the makeup chairs? It didn’t take much to ruin a girl in this world. One whisper. One headline. One angry icon with power.
I walked over to the window, I gripped the windowsill, watching as Tristan walked past his car that was parked in the driveway. He didn’t need to drive back to his house, he could just walk. He moved with purpose. Ready to stay. Ready to fight. I didn’t know what the future held. Not with Cris. Not with my father. Not even with my career. But for the first time in days, I didn’t feel like I had to fight it all alone.