𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ
𝟢𝟢𝟤，𝗂 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈
𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄  . . .

the headlines came like a wave, relentless and loud. photos, half-truths and assumptions masquerading as facts.

tate willows sat on the floor of her bedroom, legs crossed, phone facedown beside her. the silence of the room only made the noise in her head worse.

she hadn't left the apartment in days — not since the breakup story exploded.

the world thought they knew everything. that she had blindsided atlas monaco. that she had cheated on him with drew starkey.

but no one knew the truth.

no one wanted to hear it and she was tired of being misunderstood.

the truth was simple: the breakup was mutual.

they had sat across from each other at an expensive restaurant with cold drinks and even colder smiles. just two people admitting they didn't feel the same way anymore.

but still, the accusations came.

she wasn't sure what stung more — the fact that people thought she'd cheated, or that they didn't care about what he had done.

atlas had been seeing someone else for months.

a friend told her on a friday night in may — two weeks before their official breakup.

tate had smiled faintly, thanked her, and then went home and stared at the ceiling for hours.

there was no explosion inside her. just the slow, hollow ache of betrayal.

but what haunted her wasn't that he had been with someone else — it was how little it hurt her.

somewhere along the way her heart had detached quietly, almost politely. like it had packed its bags in the middle of the night and left without saying goodbye.

she didn't say anything because she didn't want to be the one to pull the plug. she didn't want the guilt of ending something everyone else believed was perfect.

but now she was being painted as the villain for something that had been broken long before anyone else knew... it was exhausting.

tate leaned back against the wall, drawing her knees to her chest as she let out a shaky breath.

she'd loved atlas. that was true. he had been kind, steady, safe. but she had never been in love with him. not the way she was with—

her hand moved on its own, reaching for her phone. she didn't have to think. she unlocked it, opened her contacts, and scrolled.

her thumb hovered over one name: drew.

she hadn't spoken to him since everything unraveled. not directly. they'd exchanged a few short messages in the beginning. safe words. nothing too deep. nothing that hinted at the truth between them.

but it was there. it had always been there.

when tate met drew, it had been like looking at someone who already knew the parts of her that she tried to hide.

she felt seen in a way that was terrifying — impossible to walk away from. he never asked her to be perfect. with him, she wasn't performing. she was just tate.

tate stared at the screen, her thumb frozen above the call button.

she hadn't cheated. but maybe, in a way, she had still betrayed atlas — by giving her heart to someone else long before she had the courage to say it out loud. that was the truth no one knew. that she hadn't fallen for drew while she was still with atlas — she'd simply realized what she had been missing the moment she was with someone who made her feel real again.

and now, sitting alone in the quiet, the truth hit her in full.

tate had spent so much time trying to make something work with someone who never fully knew her.

she had smiled for the cameras, posed in matching outfits, spoken in polished soundbites. she had told herself this was what love looked like. what stability looked like. what the public wanted to see.

and for a while, she believed it.

until she remembered what it felt like to be fully known without having to explain herself.

drew had never asked her to shrink. he never tried to curate her. with him, she didn't feel like a brand. she felt like a person — messy, flawed, complicated. but loved anyway.

she hadn't spoken to him since the storm began, hadn't reached out when the rumors started or when her name was dragged through every headline and caption.

she didn't want him caught in the chaos. she didn't want to hand him her pain like it was his to carry.

but now, in the stillness of her apartment, where the silence felt louder than the noise ever could, she realized something: she didn't want to be alone in this.

not emotionally. not anymore. not when there was someone out there who already knew the truth.

who knew the real her.

he wouldn't ask her to explain. he wouldn't press for details or tell her what she should have done differently. he'd just listen. maybe he'd say her name like it was something fragile, and maybe he'd be quiet after that — but he'd be there. and right now, that was enough.

so as her breath steadied and her grip on the phone tightened, she didn't second-guess it anymore.

tate knew who her first call would be to.

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐇 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝗂 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗋?