I Made Us Matching Avatars, But He Protected Another Girl Chapter 02

I Made Us Matching Avatars, But He Protected Another Girl Chapter 02

Nate called that night before I went to bed.

He didn’t say a word. He was waiting for me to apologize first, the way I always did.

This time I gave him nothing either. I borrowed his own trick and stayed quiet.

Eventually he cracked.

His voice came out low and clipped, the anger barely leashed.

“Claire. Explain yourself.”

He’d always been a man of few words, especially the ones that mattered.

I laughed under my breath, dry and unimpressed.

“Is there a problem with me clocking out on time, Mr. Sinclair?”

Two seconds of silence, then a short, furious laugh.

“What exactly are you trying to pull here?”

“I asked you to run one errand, and suddenly you’re skipping happy hour entirely?”

“I already told you. Lily’s like a sister to me.”

Sister.

He’d hidden behind that word for years.

Everyone at the company could see how differently he treated her. There wasn’t a single person in that building fooled by it.

Five years together, and forget matching Bitmoji avatars. Getting him to say he loved me, even alone in the dark, felt like asking him to hand me the moon.

I was exhausted.

“Didn’t you say yourself we keep things professional at work? I clocked out on time. Where’s the problem?”

“Since when is happy hour mandatory?”

That shut him up, if only for a moment.

I could picture his face without even trying, the same dark, disappointed look he always wore when he thought I’d let him down.

“How old are you, Claire?”

My knuckles went bloodless around the phone, my mouth pressed into a hard line.

Claire, can’t you be reasonable?

Claire, can’t you act your age?

Claire, why can’t you be more like Lily?

I’d heard every one of those lines so many times they should’ve stopped hurting. They hadn’t. Every single time, something in me wanted to cry, and every single time, I refused to give him the satisfaction.

This time, though, I laughed for real.

“I’m twenty-eight, Nate.”

“Are you really going to be this stubborn about it?” Anger thickened his voice.

He hung up before I could even answer.

My hand hovered in midair, phone still lit, and the tears came anyway, no matter how hard I tried to will them back.

I pressed my palm over my mouth and buried my face in the pillow, my chest splitting open like something had reached in and torn it.

Deep into the night, the company chat exploded with activity.

Photo after photo. Video after video.

I opened them to find Nate, a man who never let anyone see a crack in his composure, hopelessly drunk and leaning into Lily’s shoulder like a lovesick teenager.

Whatever she said, he answered, sweet and obedient.

The clip everyone was losing their minds over showed him pulling a diamond ring from his pocket, sliding it onto her finger himself, then bending down to press his lips to the back of her hand.

I went cold all over, like someone had dumped ice water straight down my spine.

My mind blanked out entirely. I watched that video loop again and again, memorizing every flicker of his expression.

That was the exact moment something in me finally, quietly gave up.

Everything blurred, my cheeks numb in the cold air.

The comments underneath were already spiraling.

Looks like a certain someone’s getting engaged!

Bet Mr. Sinclair had a few too many and let that ring slip out early.

Never thought the office ice king had a clingy drunk side.

Matching profile pictures now too? Somebody save me a seat at the wedding!

Everyone go look at his Instagram, it’s INSANE!!

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. All the color drained out of my face, and I bit down on my lip until it hurt.

I clicked over to his Instagram, and my whole brain just went quiet.

A man who had never once posted anything personal had shared a photo of the two of them together.

Nate’s eyes were unfocused and glassy with drink, and Lily leaned into his side, all soft blushes and shy smiles.

The public declaration I’d waited five years for, and Lily had gotten it just by showing up.

That was when something in me cracked clean through.

I sat there frozen, my chest felt unbearably heavy, tears spilling like a dam had given out.

I wanted to call him, text him, scream at him and demand answers, consequences be damned.

Why would he do this to me? Why did she get to walk in and take everything I’d waited for? Why did he lie?

But my fingers wouldn’t stop trembling, and I couldn’t force myself to hit send.

In the end, I just collapsed onto the bed, and I completely broke down.