Page 58 of The Story Of Us

“Violet.” My voice is low and hoarse as it hits me that I forgot the most important day of the year, the day that’s always made me the happiest for the past few years. I can’t believe I’ve done this to her.

“Where were you?”

She steps closer to me, but I step back, putting distance between us because if I see the disdain on her face any closer, it’ll break me. She doesn’t stay away, though, and she closes the distance between us, holding on to my arm as she drags me away from everyone else and to the side of the dining hall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I…”

Her hands are folded across her chest like she’s closing herself off from me, and it’s what I deserve. I should have known I’d end up disappointing her eventually, that it’s all I’m capable of doing.

“I was busy,” I tell her because I can’t say the truth. I can’t say that my parents want to take me away from her, and I don’t know if we can keep doing this.

“You couldn’t even text me?”

“Luke had my phone.”

“Are you just going to keep making excuses?” She sounds angry, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her speak like this. My soft-spoken Violet is gone, replaced with someone who hates me as much as I hate myself.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Violet.”

Everyone wants so much from me all the time, and I’m cracking under the pressure. I thought it was disappointment on her face before, but the way she’s looking at me now like she doesn’t know who I am, makes me realise I’ve ruined everything between us. But it’s better this way, better to end it now while she still has time to follow her own dreams without me dragging her down.

“I want an explanation. I waited in that room for an hour, Isaac. I called you, and you didn’t answer. I thought something terrible had happened, and I couldn’t even ask anyone because no one knows about us.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“What?”

There’s so much I want to tell her.

There’s no future for us anymore.

I’ll just keep disappointing you.

I don’t know how to have everything I want, and it’s killing me.

Instead, what comes out is, “I think we should break up.”

Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with disbelief and something else in her eyes that I can’t quite name.

“Why would you say that?” she whispers, her eyes flitting across my face for any hint that I might be kidding. But I’m not, and I keep a straight face, force my chin to stop quivering, and blink enough times that the tears clear from my eyes.

I shrug my shoulders, knowing that if I speak, I won’t be able to disguise the lump in my throat or hold back the tears that threaten to spill out.

“What the fuck was the point of it all, then?”

She throws her hands up, anger and hatred clear on her face.

But I can’t answer her without lying, and I’ve already told the worst lie I could. I don’t want to break up with her, I want her with me for the rest of my life. But I don’t know how to keep juggling all the parts of my life to make everyone around me happy.

When the silence has stretched on too long, and I’m staring down at the floor, I hear her rummaging through her bag and then a box is being shoved into my chest.

“Take your gift. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

I look down at the set of markers in my hand, an expensive brand that I’ve been saving up for a while, and now I definitely can’t look at her. She strides past me, and without even thinking about it, my hand is around her wrist.

I want her to stay, want to tell her that I didn’t mean it and that I’m sorry for disappointing her, but I don’t get the chance.

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