Hide And Seek. They All Betrayed Me Chapter 08

Hide And Seek. They All Betrayed Me Chapter 08

One month in, I passed my probation.

The team threw a small cake at the company dinner.

[Welcome to the team, Blair.]

So being remembered didn’t require me to remind anyone first.

After dinner, I went back to grab my laptop.

The front desk stopped me.

“Blair, someone left you something.”

A wooden box on the desk.

I opened it. Ninety–nine lucky stars. Neatly arranged.

A slip of paper on top.

[This time, every single one is for you.]

I opened the first.

[Blair doesn’t like strawberry. Her favorite is green grape.]

Second.

[She drinks coffee with no sugar. Fries with cheese.]

Third.

[When she’s nervous, she picks at her right thumbnail.]

Every one after that. All about me.

What I liked. What I feared.

And all those wishes I’d mentioned in passing. Ones he’d never taken me to.

I closed the box.

Through the window, Nathan stood outside the building.

First snow of the year in New York.

He was dressed thin. A layer of white on his shoulders.

I came out holding the box. Meant to give it back.

He walked over immediately.

“I didn’t reuse the old ones. I folded all of these again.”

“I asked your college roommate. Went through our old chats.”

“I didn’t take you seriously before. I’ll change.”

He pulled two tickets from his pocket.

“Next month. You love this festival. Let’s go together.”

I handed the box back.

He didn’t take it.

“Why? Every word in there is true.”

I nodded.

“I know.”

“But Nathan, I don’t need it anymore.”

His eyes went red.

“Give me one more chance. I’ll put you first.”

“But I gave you three years.”

I looked at him.

“I gave you plenty of chances. It’s not that I didn’t.”

“You just never believed I’d leave.”

Nathan’s hand dropped.

“I cut them off. I moved out. I didn’t take Wren to the airport.”

“Blair, I’ll do anything for you.”

I said, quiet.

“That’s your choice. Nothing to do with me.”

He went silent for a long time. Then asked.

“Do you really not love me anymore?”

Snow hit the box. Melted.

I used to love Nathan so much.

So much that one word from him could make me wait three years.

He said he only loved me. I ignored every sign.

But loving someone once doesn’t mean staying there forever.

“I loved you. I don’t anymore.”

I walked past him. Into the building.

From that day on, Nathan seemed to leave my world.

Half a year later, I turned twenty–five in New York.

My coworkers insisted on celebrating. They’d booked a table.

At the restaurant, dishes I liked were already on the table.

The one who ordered waved me over.

“See if it’s all to your taste! We watched what you ordered for lunch for weeks!”

“Come on. This dinner’s not complete without you.”

My eyes stung.

Before eating, everyone wanted a photo.

I stepped to the side out of habit. Left the center open.

A coworker pulled me back.

“The birthday girl stands in the middle. No picture without her.”

The shutter clicked.

I zoned out for a second.

Graduation day. I took photos for them all afternoon.

When I remembered I wasn’t in any, they’d already scattered.

Adrian said, “We see each other every day. Missing one photo doesn’t matter.”

If they want you in the photo, they won’t leave you out.

After dinner, messages came in.

First, Adrian.

[Blair, happy birthday.]

[What happened before–I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good brother.]

A photo too.

The living room at home looked empty.

Elena hadn’t visited in a long time.

After Wren went abroad, she slowly cut everyone off.

Nathan moved out of the house next door.

Families that used to be so close. Now just polite nods when they pass.

Adrian said, I always organized the gatherings.

After I left, they tried a few times.

But they forgot reservations. Or fought over who accommodated whom.

That twenty–year group wasn’t as solid as they’d thought.

Someone was always sacrificed to keep the peace. Me.

As long as I stepped back, they stayed close.

Now I didn’t. Turns out they didn’t even like each other that much.

Then Mom sent a voice message.

“Blair, your dad bought a gold bracelet. He says it’s for you.”

“When are you coming home? We’ll celebrate your birthday properly.”

The last message, from Nathan.

[Happy birthday. This time I didn’t forget.]

A late memory doesn’t erase all the forgettings before.

My coworker called out.

“Blair, come see the photos!”

In the frame, no one stood at the edge.

And this time, I was right in the middle.