Mistakenly Devoted to Fleeting Years, Memories Hard to Let Go

Millie tightened her grip on the cup, her fingers trembling as she bit her lip, desperately trying to keep the tears from spilling.

So, this was the truth. Every time they pushed her down the stairs, falsely accused her of theft, or tormented her in the restroom—he had been there. Elliot had seen everything.

Every moment he "just happened to pass by," every instance he seemed to swoop in at the perfect time—it had never been a coincidence.

The one she had foolishly seen as her savior, her light in an otherwise pitch-black world, had never truly been on her side. From the beginning, he had been nothing more than a silent accomplice.

He even went out of his way to distract the teachers, ensuring no interruptions for their schemes.

A cruel sense of irony swept over her as she imagined how proud he must have felt. She watched her look up to him with awe, clinging to the illusion of his kindness, never letting go.

Memories she had once cherished now felt like daggers in her heart.

"Elliot, which university are you applying to? Wherever you go, I’ll follow."

"I don’t care what happens, as long as you let me stay by your side."

"You were the first person to teach me what love is. I think… you’ll be the only one I’ll ever love."

***

Hilary’s lips moved, but her words were drowned out by the loud buzz in Millie’s ears. The sound was so loud it felt like her head might burst at any moment.

“Shut up! Haley, just shut up!”

“Millie, when your mother became a mistress and shattered someone else’s marriage, did she ever think that karma would one day come for her daughter? I’m simply here to make sure you feel the pain my mother endured.”

Lowering her voice, Hilary added, her smile brimming with confidence, “But now that I’ve had my fun, it’s time for you to step aside.”

Millie let out a bitter laugh. “Does picking up trash bring you satisfaction?”

Hilary’s smirk faltered as frustration crept into her expression. “Still the same sharp tongue,” she sneered. “You could beg for mercy and save some humiliation, but no, you just have to cling to this holier-than-thou act. It’s disgusting.”

“You know, I enjoy watching you break down—crying, kneeling, admitting just how worthless you are…”

Pulling out her phone, Hilary flipped the screen to face Millie. A photo appeared, showing a girl curled up in a corner, clutching her bruised body. Her arms and legs bore vivid marks of violence, yet her face remained stoic, her gaze blank. Above the photo, the caption read: [Beating a dog while it’s down.]

“Look at her,” Hilary murmured, her voice dripping with mockery. “So pitiful, so deserving of everyone’s sympathy.”

A tidal wave of humiliation crashed over Millie, the memories she had buried now surging to the surface, suffocating her. Time hadn’t erased the past—it had merely tucked it away, waiting for moments like this to resurface.

Without warning, the sharp sound of a slap echoed through the quiet café, silencing the murmurs around them.

Hilary’s head snapped to the side, her cheek blossoming with a vivid red handprint. She slowly turned back to Millie, her hand covering the stinging mark. Malice flickered in her eyes but vanished instantly, replaced by a teary, wounded expression.

“Millie…”

“If you want to perform, I’ll gladly join in.”

She grabbed the glass of juice from the table and poured it over Hilary’s head. The yellow liquid trickled down her hair, staining her clothes and bag, bits of pulp clinging to her like an unwelcome reminder of the moment.

Hilary froze, a fleeting smile flashing across her lips before her eyes reddened. Her expression shifted to one of fragile innocence.

Around the café, curious eyes turned toward them. Someone whispered Hilary’s name and another discreetly started recording on their phone.

“Haley,” Millie said, her voice steady, “if you think you’re worthy, fight for him. Win and I’ll gladly step aside. That way, you won’t carry the burden of being a homewrecker.”

Hilary stared back at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Alright.”

By evening, photos from the café flooded social media. Hilary’s vague yet suggestive post painted Millie as the villain, the narrative turning her into the bully who had once tormented Hilary.