I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her Chapter 04

I Proposed To Him, The Comments Told Me His Heart Belonged To Her Chapter 04

My phone started buzzing the second the car pulled away from the house.

Mom first. Then Dad

Eventually, the calls thinned out to a single name on repeat.

Grant.

I watched it ring for two seconds and hit decline.

Ten seconds later, he called again.

Declined.

Again.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I switched my phone to silent without changing expression.

Was he serious right now?

My flight was at seven. I’d packed until two in the morning. Bags were forming under my eyes, and nobody, nobody, was allowed to ruin what little sleep I had left.

Especially Grant.

I’d barely closed my eyes when the comments flooded my vision again.

[Here it comes! The classic airport chase scene!]

[Why is she even pretending to be tough? The second the male lead says “come back,” she’ll drag her suitcase right back to him.]

[In the original story, she never makes it out. She literally turns down her offer because of Grant.}

My eye twitched.

So there was an airport scene too.

I was wide awake.

Right on cue, Grant called again.

I stared at the screen. Curiosity won: I wanted to see just how pathetic the old Sienna was supposed to be. I

answered.

“Sienna, where the hell are you?”

I leaned back in my seat. “Guess.’

“Why is your room empty?”

“I moved out.”

“I know you moved out!” His breathing was ragged. “I’m asking where you are.”

“The airport.”

Dead silence on his end.

When he spoke again, his voice had dropped.

“Don’t get on that plane.”

Four words.

My grip on the phone tightened before I could stop it.

Nineteen years of loving someone doesn’t disappear because you decide it should. My head knew I was done. But my heart still perked up every time he said something that sounded like it might mean stay.

I said nothing.

He must have taken my silence as hesitation. His voice softened.

“The Whitmores just brought Blaire home. You disappear now, and what’s everyone going to think? What are your parents supposed to tell people?”

And just like that, whatever had softened in me went cold again.

Of course.

I couldn’t believe I’d actually hoped for something different.

The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. I looked down and laughed.

“Grant.

“What?”

“Did you really think all you had to do was call, and I’d come running back?”

He didn’t answer.

The old me would have.

When he had a tournament, I’d drive two hours in the middle of the night to watch. When his ulcer flared up,

I’d walk off a paid shoot to bring him medicine. When he once said he hated long-distance, I almost gave up the school I’d spent three years fighting for.

Every time I turned around for him, I taught him the same lesson: I always would

So he could hand the front seat to someone else. Give the necklace to someone else. Replace me at the family

dinner.

Because he knew that after a few sweet words, I’d come back like I always did.

Too bad for him. I’d seen where that road ended.

Through the terminal windows, the sky was turning pale gold. When I spoke, my own voice surprised me with how steady it was.

“That used to be true.”

“Not anymore.”

Something shifted on his end. His voice went tight. “Sienna, you…”

“I’m boarding.”

I hung up and turned off my phone.

[???]

[She actually hung up on him?!]

[This isn’t how it goes. Isn’t she supposed to cry and ask if he even cares that she’s leaving?]

[She’s actually leaving?!]

I dragged my suitcase toward the gate with a smile I didn’t bother hiding.

It turned out the comments didn’t know everything after all.

When the plane lifted off, I pressed my face to the window.

The city I’d spent nineteen years in shrank beneath me until the clouds swallowed it whole.

A thought settled in, quiet and clear.

If those comments really showed my future, then maybe that future wasn’t set in stone.

All I had to do was stop following the script.

cond I powered my phone on, dozens of messages frit at once.

Moin asking if I’d landed Dad telling me to call. Tessa Ward with a wall of exclamation marks. And at the very bottom, Grant’s messages, lined up one after another.

Let me know when you land

Three hours later:

[Sienna.]

Two hours after that:

[You’ve made your point.]

I stared at that last one until I laughed out loud, the kind of laugh that comes from

Classic Grant.

Even when he wanted something from me, he made it sound like I owed him.

I shoved my phone in my bag and let him sit with it.

pure

disbelief.

School hit like a freight train. My first week was packed solid: classes, orientations, jet lag. The second I adjusted, I dove into projects. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for myself even if I’d wanted to.

The hard part wasn’t the workload. It was the small things.

I saw Grant’s favorite sparkling water at the grocery store and grabbed two without thinking.

I didn’t realize until I was at the register.

I looked at the extra bottle for a long moment. Then I walked it back to the shelf.

Or I’d be grinding through a project at one in the morning, and my hands would type [Dumbass, I’m exhausted] out of pure muscle memory, and then I’d realize we hadn’t spoken in weeks.

I deleted it, letter by letter.

Did it hurt?

A little.

But not enough to break me.

My second week, I threw together a makeup tutorial: [How to revive a zombie face after a studio

all-nighter].

kt morning, it had flown up.

The comment section was flooded with people wanting to know when I’d moved abroad.

[Wait, Sienna, aren’t you titerally rich? You actually moved across the world to go to SCHOOL?]

[She has 8M followers and still grinds this hard. What hope is there for the rest of us?]

[She actually got into THAT school? That program’s acceptance rate is insane.]

I read through them with deep satisfaction.

At least some people still recognized talent when they saw it.

I replied to one.

[Now you know my face isn’t the only thing I’ve got going for me, right?]

A few minutes later, Tessa video-called me.

She’scanned me head to toe through the screen like she was checking for missing limbs, then:

“Oh, so you are alive. Nice of you to finally turn your phone on.”

“There’s a time difference, Tessa. Relax.”

“Grant nearly blew up my phone yesterday.”

My hand stilled. “Why was he calling you?”

“Wanted to know your address.”

“Did you give it to him?”

Tessa scoffed. “Do I look like his assistant?”

I nodded, pleased.

This was exactly why I paid her.

“But apparently he went to your parents’ place after. Even went up to your room.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say? I took everything. Was he going to water my plants?”

Tessa went quiet for a beat, then clicked her tongue,

“Sie

ou’re different this time. Like, actually different.”

I checked my eyeliner in the catnera and shrugged.

“A girl can only fall for the same trick so many times before she ends up locked up in a psych ward.”

“What ward?”

“Nothing.”

After I hung up, I finally opened my chat with Grant.

He’d been sending me roughly one message a day since I left.

Day one: [Let me know when you get there.]

Day two: [Your parents are worried about you.]

Day three: [Send me your class schedule.]

Day four: [Enough, Sienna.]

Day five:

[Forget what I said yesterday.]

I stared at that message until my screen dimmed.

Grant had been impossibly stubborn his entire life. Him typing those words was the closest he’d ever come

to an apology.

The old me would’ve screenshotted it, framed it, and shown it to everyone I knew.

Now, I read it once and closed the chat.

There was no need.

Week three. Grant’s grandfather called.

He didn’t say a word about coming home. He just asked how classes were going, whether I was eating okay, whether I needed money.

My eyes burned.

“Everything’s great, Grandpa.”

“Good.” He let out a gruff laugh. “And don’t you worry about that fool grandson of mine. I already ripped

him a new one.”

What’d you say to bim?”

Tola hun he’d lost his damn inind.”

“He has.”

Grandpa went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle.

“Sienna, you go wherever you want. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I couldn’t speak.

My throat ached too much.

When you’re really hurting, you don’t always need someone to fix it.

Sometimes you just need one person to say, Go. It’s okay to go.

That night, Grant texted again.

[So you’re talking to everyone except me?]

I read it twice and decided he was unbelievable.

After a moment, I sent my first reply since I’d left.

[It wasn’t on purpose.]

His reply was instant.

[Then why haven’t you answered me?]

I typed my next message carefully.

[I just don’t have anything to say to you.]

The typing bubble hovered at the top of the screen for a long time.

He never sent anything.

I smiled, grabbed my laptop, and went to finish my assignment.

A week later, karma came knocking.

I was leaving class when Tessa sent me a photo.

Grant. Sitting in the café below my studio in a black coat, looking like the world personally offended him.

I stared at it.

[Doesn’t he have a job?]

Tessa fired back.

[Last I checked, Prescott Group hasn’t filed for bankruptcy.]

I replied with a single skull emoji.

I wasn’t planning to see him.

But when I got back to my apartment that night, he was waiting outside.

I didn’t know how long he’d been there. The wind had wrecked his hair, and when he spotted me, his face relaxed for half a second before he caught himself and forced it back into a scowl.

“Sienna.”

I stopped. “What are you doing here?”

The distance in my voice made him frown.

“Is that how you talk to me now?”

“How should I talk to you? ‘Good evening, Mr. Prescott’?”

He clamped his mouth shut.

He took a breath, visibly talking himself down from whatever he actually wanted to say.

“You were leaving the country and you didn’t think to talk to me first?”

I almost laughed.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

His jaw clenched.

Of course I told him.

I’d said it at the dinner table, in front of the whole family, the first night Blaire moved in.