I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 03

I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 03

Meant to be.

Those four words hit Nora like a blade.

Not because she was naive. Because they were right. Reid and Nyssa were the same species.

Music, talent, pedigree, fame—they lived in the same world.

She was just a girl from a small town who’d stolen three years that were never hers.

The song ended.

Someone clapped. She almost did too.

Nyssa saw her first.

Her gaze drifted across the street, landed on Nora’s face, paused for half a beat.

Then she leaned in and said something to Reid.

He turned his head.

Through the glass, their eyes met.

Nora fled.

She ran until she was out of breath, then stopped, clutching her chest.

Why was she running?

Fear—that he’d come out and ask why she was there, that he’d think she was still hanging on.

Or maybe guilt.

Guilt that the three years that should have been theirs had been taken by her.

Enough. It was enough.

She looked up at the gray sky and a thought surfaced: Leave. Go somewhere else. Anywhere. As far away as possible.

She pulled out her phone and texted Hailey: “If that buyer still wants the painting, give it to her. Free.”

Hailey replied instantly, the urgency bleeding through the screen: “Nora, are you serious? Are you sure you won’t regret this?”

Nora stared at the screen for a few seconds. Typed three words. Deleted them. Finally sent one: “No.”

No regrets.

That painting was worthless now.

It was the starting point of her theft.

The proof of three years of guilt.

Three thousand unsaid apologies.

It didn’t belong at the center of her exhibition.

It needed to go somewhere she’d never have to see it again.

When she got home, the sky was almost dark.

She changed her shoes and went into the bedroom.

Same bed.

Same sheets. But the side Reid slept on was smooth as if no one had ever touched it.

She stood there, staring at the empty space, unsure where to sit now.

Three years of habit.

She was used to turning her head and seeing him on the right.

Used to him reaching out and touching her shoulder.

Used to him rolling over at night and stealing the blanket, then waking up cold and tugging it back.

Now the right side was empty. So empty it hurt.

She walked around to his side, sat on the edge, then got up and lay down on her own side.

The mattress was softer than she remembered.

Maybe because only one person was on it now.

She pulled the blanket over her head and waited.

No nightmare came.

The next morning, she woke to her phone vibrating.

It took her a few seconds to realize: no nightmare.

No robotic voice.

No disgusted look.

Nothing.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, and almost laughed.

Three years of nightmares, gone the first night after he left.

She hadn’t been afraid of being exposed.

She’d been afraid of having something and losing it.

Now that the loss had happened, there was nothing left to fear.

She picked up her phone.

It wasn’t a call.

It was a flood of social media notifications.

Trending #1: #ReidCallowayNyssaPianoDuet#

Trending #3: #ReidCallowayMissesNoraBirthdayBreakupRumors#

Trending #7: #NoraArtExhibition#

She blinked. Then remembered—today was her birthday.

For three years, Reid had posted at midnight without fail. Not this year.

The comments were a uniform chorus: “Reid finally has taste again.”

“Nyssa is actually his equal—that painter never deserved him anyway.”

“Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Artists are all about pity, aren’t they?”

Nora gripped her phone, her chest tightening.

Then the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Reid.

She stared at the name until the phone had rung more than ten times. Then she picked up.

“Hello.”

“…Nora.” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t slept. Or just woke up. “You saw the trending topics, right?”

Her knuckles were white. But her voice came out steadier than she’d expected. “Yeah.”

A pause. “I called to tell you something.”

Another pause. His voice dropped lower. “I’m going to post a statement later. Officially announcing the breakup.”