Too Late For His Apology

n of him appeared and ordered him to choose another girl. He claimed our lov

attacks over my real terror, hanging up on me as I begged for help while

he agreed to let thugs give

her, I was being brutally beaten in a lo

tector since childhood,

: "We're done." Then I booked a one-way flight to another coun

pte

Holt

r, another him-an older, colder version-appeared o

ges, and the electric promise of futures stretching out before us like an open road. Laughter echoed under the te

uld remember, it had always been Joshua and me. Our futures were a shared map, th

e swirling chaos. "Clara," he murmured, his voice low and serious,

, the official start to the "forever" we'd already promised each other a thousand times. He was the

e. "We've been planning this for so long," he began, his thumb tracin

n, it h

. A man materialized from nothing. He looked like Joshua-exactly like him, but older. Harsher. The line

k. Joshua froze, his ey

all warmth, like a recording played on a dying battery. He wasn't looking

hua stammered, pulling me

ure you're about to destroy. Your destiny i

Mcclain. A shy, mousy girl from the other side of town w

ua said, shaking his

ruin to everyone. Amelia will suffer a fate worse than death, and it will be your fault. You will regre

He looked at me, his eyes pleading for me to be

ng. It's a love that will define you, a love you're destined for. This," he gestured dismi

hared future, it was all dissolving like sand through my fingers. The scen

fusion. He was susceptible, always driven by a deep-seated, almost naive sense of dut

as being erased, and the eraser

as he'd appeared, leaving behind a chilling silence. Joshua didn' t look a

ispered, my vo

ainty was gone, replaced by a shadow of fear and a terrible, m

pped m

crowned on the makeshift stage, her sparkly tiara catching the light. Someone's parents were

from me, his broad shoulders slumping as he scanned t

that iced over my heart

el

earbook. I watched, paralyzed, as he walked up to her. He said som

nding down slightly to hear whatever she was whispering. He forgot my favorite color last week, chalking it

, and then he did something that shattered the last piece of my composure. He shrugged off his letterman jacket-the one

otection. A gesture th

cted, piece by painful piece. I was standing in the middle of a celebrat

o longer on it. He was supposed to drive me home. We were supposed

oward the parking lot, he

rgotten m