My Guardian's Cruelest Love Game

Holla

endrick, searching for any sign of him, any hint that this was a cruel joke, but his face remained impassive, hi

seat on the plush cream sofa, a new addition that replaced the worn leather one I used to love. "Are you hungry, sweeti

rting, now seemed to mock me. It was a domestic scene, warm and inviting, but I felt like an alien observer, separat

sed to send shivers down my spine, but now only echoed with hollow pain. Their heads were close, their bodies aligned, a perfect, intim

e rug, anything to avoid the sight of their effortless affection. Each shared gla

self up from the sofa. The words felt foreign, forced. I needed to

way, I hope you don't mind, but I moved some of those scraggly old bushes from the gard

mother left, a small act of defiance against the emptiness. Each year, they bloomed with tiny, defiant white

ace for her herb garden. It's more practical." Practical. That was Kendrick. Ever

ch his. The casual dismissal of something so precious to me felt like a final insult. Those bushes were a tangible link

spair. I just needed my room, my sanctuary, the one place where I could lick my wounds

old desk, piled high with books and sketches, was gone, replaced by a gleaming easel and a half-finis

om had the best light." He gestured vaguely to the large window. "We moved your things to the gue

somewhere in my throat, choking me. My room, my last refuge, had been

. His stern profile, but softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, an intimacy I' d

re he brought me 'home.' He had been seeing her, loving her, painting her. All while I was out there, desperate for a crumb of h

ad never been with me, not truly. I was a child to be managed, a ward to be housed, but never loved. Never chosen. My

media. It was an endless reel of their blossoming romance. Pictures of them at art galleries, his arm around her. Her laughing, radiant,

sk of stoic control, was alight with genuine affection, a tenderness that made my stomach churn. "Will you marry me, Chrissy Castro?" he whispered, his voice thick with e

omeone else, so easily, so freely. All the warmth, all the affection, all the deep, abiding connection I had yearned for, he offered to her without a second thou

ss. Sleep didn' t come, couldn't come. My mind replayed every tender moment, every loving glance, every joy-fille

fing, but in the oppressive quiet of the night, with my senses hyper-alert, the intimate sounds carried. My body stiffened, a cold dread creep

a sob. My cheeks burned, my entire body rigid with shock and self-loathing. I wanted to disappear

ier could block out the truth. The sounds continued, a cruel symphony of their happiness, their intimacy, their undeniable bond. I c

Kendrick was at the breakfast bar, not alone. Chrissy was with him, perched on a stool, her fiery red hair a vibrant splash against

tral expression onto my face. "I'm heading to s

goodbye, didn't ask when I'd be back. He didn't even truly regist

Not anymore. I was an intruder, a ghost haunting a home that was no longer mi

ity office. I needed a new path, a new future, one that didn't involve Ken

s of research papers. "Professor Vance," I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil in

? I offered you that last semester, and you turned it down. Said you had

eady. I'm truly ready. I want to apply. I need this." My voice cracked on the last word, betraying the