Chase Me

28

I had sought refuge at the New Yorker hotel, refusing to return home where the painful presence of my father and Milan loomed. Collapsing onto the bed, I released a loud scream, my tears streaming down my face.

My phone rang, piercing through the sobs that consumed me. With trembling hands, I answered, my voice choked with emotion. "What?" I managed to utter between sobs.

Concern laced Angelica's voice as she asked, "Where are you, and why are you crying?" Her worry only intensified my overwhelming flood of emotions.

"I'm at the New Yorker," I replied, my voice strained with sniffles and tears.

"What are you doing there?" she exclaimed, her disbelief evident.

Unable to form a coherent response, I simply cried harder, my despair echoing through the phone. Angelica understood the depth of my pain, realizing that mere words wouldn't be enough to console me. Determined to provide support, she made a solemn promise. "I'll be there in a few," she reassured me, knowing that my distraught state required her physical presence.

Setting the phone down, I felt an overwhelming sense of despair and betrayal. The weight of my father and Milan's actions bore down upon me, threatening to shatter my spirit. I wanted to unleash my anger on the walls, to release the pain that consumed me. It was unfathomable to comprehend how my own family could orchestrate such a heart-wrenching deception.

Minutes stretched into eternity as I sat in the midst of my sorrow, contemplating the shattered bonds of trust and the uncertainty that lay ahead. As I awaited Angelica's arrival, the walls of the hotel room seemed to close in on me, suffocating me with their silent weight.
-

Angelica sat on the edge of the bed, her presence a soothing balm for my shattered spirit. She handed me tissues, providing comfort as I unraveled the events of the evening, her eyes widening in disbelief as the truth unfurled before her. "No way," she exclaimed, passing me a bottle of water. "So all this time, it was your father behind your split with Zane? It was never Savannah? We've been hating on her for no reason."

With a mix of frustration and sadness, I nodded, my voice heavy with emotion. "My father and my brother," I said, taking a gulp of water to calm my racing thoughts. "Right now, I can't even bear to see them. I don't want to go home."

Understanding my need for space and time, Angelica nodded in agreement. "It's better for you to stay here and process everything," she offered. "Take the time you need to reflect on the situation. What about Zane? Has he reached out to you?"

A wave of realization crashed over me as I realized I had forgotten about Zane amidst the chaos. My heart sank, guilt gnawing at me. Hastily grabbing my phone, I discovered a barrage of missed calls from him. I immediately dialed his number, the urgency in his voice evident as he answered. "Where are you?" he exclaimed, his worry palpable. "I've been worried sick about you, sugarplum."

Exhaling deeply, I responded, "I'm at the New Yorker. I just needed some time to think."

"Oh, thank God," he sighed in relief. "I'll bring breakfast for you tomorrow, okay? I want to give you some space to process everything that happened tonight. Do you have someone with you? Do you need me there?" his voice filled with an eagerness to support me in any way he could.

Shaking my head, despite knowing he couldn't see me, I reassured him, "It's fine, Zane. Angelica is here with me. I'll be alright."