Page 79 of The Love Syllabus

Townie #2: This new batch of teachers? Handpicked by your ex. Complete idiots!

Townie #3: Heard you’re organizing the Fall Festival again. No one puts together a better town event than you.

It’s overwhelming yet heartwarming, but also a stark reminder of what Cory ripped away from me.

Vic stands beside me the entire time, his hand resting protectively at the small of my back. He doesn’t rush me. He doesn’t interrupt. He just lets me have my moment.

And once we finally break free, we make our way to Krista.

She flashes a bright, eager smile as we slide into the booth. “Wow,” she muses, tilting her head. “Guess you’re the celebrity around here, huh?”

I shrug, forcing civility. “I’ve known nearly everyone here my whole life. I’m sure it’s the same for you back home, right?”

She shrugs, and something in her expression softens. “I never really had a home,” she admits, her voice quieter. “We moved around for my dad’s job. Never stayed anywhere long enough to make real friends. Just the online kind... other influencers.”

Vic and I exchange a glance, both caught off guard by the unexpected vulnerability.

Krista shrugs again, but this time it’s less dismissive. “I’m not complaining, though. I make a lot of money. I get a lot of free stuff. Life’s great… for the most part.”

Cautiously, we ease into normal conversation. We even laugh a little as we share drinks and appetizers.

Then, out of nowhere, Krista exhales like she’s just gotten something off her chest. “I know this is all about PR and damage control, and I get that. But… I really want to apologize. I wasn’t trying to cause a mess. It’s just...”

She trails off, then steels herself before continuing.

“I know you don’t remember me, Vic. And honestly, that’s fine. I wasn’t expecting some grand romance. But being forgotten like that? It stung. It made me feel disposable.”

Vic doesn’t react right away, but I see his jaw clench. He doesn’t like hurting people—even when they piss him off.

Krista lets out a humorless laugh, then turns to me, frustration flashing across her face.

“And then there was you. This woman everyone seemed to love. And I mean everyone—even my damn boyfriend. Or ex. Or whatever the hell he is to me.” She scoffs.

“I didn’t know what to think initially, but he had plenty of opinions. He said you weren’t as sweet as you pretended to be and had a history of manipulating people. And I believed him. He swept me off my feet so quickly. It wasn’t too hard, being in this town all alone and surrounded by people who disliked me. He made me feel like it was me and him against the world.”

She exhales, her voice tight. “But now? Now, I just feel isolated. Everyone hates me. And…” She lets out a hollow laugh, fingers gripping the edge of her glass. “I feel disposable again.”

I find my heart breaking for her. The way she talks about her boyfriend as if he’s the only person in her corner, the way he makes her believe things as if his word is final, and how deeply she trusts him are all too familiar.

Suddenly, I see it so clearly. This is how it starts—the manipulation disguised as love.

He hypes her up and makes her feel like he’s the only one who truly understands her. And then, once she’s exactly where he wants her, he starts to break her down, bit by bit. First, it’s subtle. A comment here, a warning there, then before she knows it, she’s lost friends, family, and her sense of self.

And by the time she realizes what’s happening… she’s trapped. My stomach twists. I know Krista’s story. I know her experience because I lived it.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Krista.” My voice is softer now, careful, like I’m stepping through a minefield. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

She lowers her head in a brief moment of silence until a voice, smug and grotesquely familiar, slithers against my ear

“Hello, wife.”

There it is… the unease I’d been trying to ignore all evening wraps around my throat like a noose. I knew something wasn’t right about tonight. My blood runs cold. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Vic’s eyes flicker in rage, and he grips the edge of the table so tight I think he might flip it.

He’s seconds away from either storming out or dragging Cory outside by his throat.

Under the table, I reach for his hand and gently squeeze it tight. “Vic,” I murmur, my voice soft but steady. “Not here. Not now.”

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