Every Bet They Made, Every Line They Crossed Chapter 08

Every Bet They Made, Every Line They Crossed Chapter 08

For the next two weeks, Philip waited for me outside the office every single day.

Morning and evening, he showed up with gifts and handwritten letters.

His first letter filled three full pages, filled with apologies and old memories. The second dwindled to two

pages. By the seventh day, only half a page remained.

I never opened any of the packages and asked the receptionist to return everything.

One day he arrived later than usual. I waited for him by the entrance. His face lit up when he spotted me, and

he hurried

vas bag. “These belong to you.”

all the stuffed animals he’d left on my doorstep recently.

ey’re all here. Don’t buy any more.”

He clutched the bag tightly, his lips shaking uncontrollably in the wind. “You promised you wouldn’t stay mad if I brought you plush toys.”

I pressed my lips together firmly. “You also promised you’d stop making bets with Selena. I kept my word about the stuffed animals for years, through all the time we were together. I held onto my patience. But all that understanding only earned me relentless pain from you.”

Shortly afterward, he began sending packages to my family home.

The first delivery contained stomach medicine and painkillers. The second was a thick winter scarf. The third was a photo album filled with pictures from our college years. He’d written notes on the back of every photograph.

Mom returned every package unopened. After the second refusal, she included a note: “Any further deliveries will be reported as harassment.” He sent one last parcel; she returned it with a copy of the police non–emergency line number. Only then did he stop.

Next he tried messaging me again. When I didn’t reply, he sent long voice messages.

In the first recording, he talked about that winter during our junior year, when I came down with a fever. He’d stayed awake all night caring for me and ended up falling ill himself. Back then he’d felt certain, convinced he was the most important person in my life.

The second voice note told me he’d visited the apartment we once rented together. He stood in the complex, staring at the paths we used to walk side by side, the bench where we’d watched the stars. He begged for a chance to have me back.

in the third message, he said he’d deleted Selena’s Instagram and blocked every way to reach her.

Selena had taken a job at another company, where her coworkers ostracized her, and she was miserable.

“She asked why I turned on her. I told her it was because of you. She said I’m completely useless.”

For an entire month, he received zero response from me.

One night he got blackout drunk and shouted my name outside my new office. Security guards dragged him

away.

When he sobered up the next morning, he sent his final message: [Bella. What can I possibly do to earn your forgiveness?]

[You don’t deserve forgiveness.]

e text for a very long time, the glow of his phone illuminating his face.

membered all the times he’d made me cry. All he needed to do was hand me a stuffed toy, and I’d smile again. He’d believed I would always be that girl.

But not anymore.

Letting go of Philip and Selena felt like being born anew.

My new workplace had a warm atmosphere. My coworkers knew nothing about my past; they only saw an ordinary young woman who’d moved home from the big city.

Work in this smaller town was far less demanding. I came home on time every evening to eat dinner with my parents, and my stomach troubles never acted up again.

On weekends I accompanied Mom to the farmers‘ market. In the evenings I’d watch the elderly neighbors gather for their dance routine in the square.

One night as we walked home, Mom spoke softly. “Bella, you look so much healthier than before. Your spirits have lifted. I’m truly happy for you.”

I hugged her and said nothing. Once home, I stood in front of the mirror.

Back when I was with Philip, I’d constantly looked drained, with permanent dark shadows beneath my eyes. Now my skin glowed, and I smiled far more often.

“You’re right, Mom. Coming home was the best choice.”

Mom patted my hand gently.

Later the company organized a group hiking trip. Halfway up the trail, my leg cramped badly.

Without hesitation, a bespectacled tech guy from another department hoisted me onto his back and carried me downhill

He rarely spoke, yet kept asking, “Does it hurt? Want to stop and rest?”