VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER Six House of Cards (Part Two)
VOLUME I
ACT I
CHAPTER Six
House of Cards
(Part Two)
I didn’t hear from him for three days.
Each day stretched like an elastic band, taut, aching, threatening to snap at the slightest tug. I found myself starting sentences I never finished. Reaching for my phone, then pulling away. Waking up gasping, my dreams haunted by versions of him walking away, looking back just long enough to say, "I never really knew you."
Then, on the fourth morning, there was a knock.
When I opened the door, it wasn’t K.
It was his younger brother.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t greet me with the usual playful sarcasm. He just stared at me with eyes that looked far older than they were.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I stepped aside and let him in.
He walked slowly to the center of my living room, looked around like he was seeing it for the first time. Then he turned.
“So it’s true?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. All of it.”
“Jesus.” He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I thought we were friends.”
“We are,” I said, too fast, too desperate.
He blinked. “Were we ever? Or were you just using me the whole time?”
“No,” I said firmly. “I meant what I said in the post. It started that way, but it didn’t stay that way. You’re one of the closest friends I have.”
He sat down, silent for a while.
Then: “He’s not doing great. Not because he hates you. But because he doesn’t know what parts of you were ever real.”
“They were all real,” I said quietly. “The version of me that stalked him was scared. Insecure. But everything I gave him, the love, the care, the loyalty, that was real.”
He nodded once. “Then why didn’t you just tell him from the beginning?”
“Because I was terrified he wouldn’t love me back if he knew how it started. And by the time he did love me, it felt like too big a secret to confess.”
He leaned back. “Well, now everyone knows.”
“I know.”
“And it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a letter or a post to fix it.”
I looked down. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
He stood slowly. “I believe that. For what it’s worth, I do.”
He walked to the door, then turned back. “But if you ever loved him—really loved him—you’ll let him take as long as he needs. Even if he never comes back.”
The door clicked behind him.
And the silence returned.
But this time, it didn’t feel like guilt.
It felt like consequence.












































































