Too Late For His Desperate Proposal

Chloe Waller POV:

The world tilted on its axis. I watched, as if in slow motion, as the tight knot of anxiety on Holden' s brow smoothed out, replaced by a look of dazed, unmistakable relief. He was happy. The thought was a shard of ice in my heart.

"Wow," I managed to breathe out, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. "That' s… that' s great news. Congratulations."

Fabiola' s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Thank you, Chloe! We' re so excited." She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Could you do me a huge favor and keep this a secret for a little while? We want to tell our parents in person, make it a special surprise."

Holden just stood there, a goofy, shell-shocked smile on his face, nodding in agreement. He was going to be a father. With her. He didn' t even glance at me. It was like I wasn' t even there.

A desperate, foolish question clawed its way up my throat. "Aren' t you… scared? I mean, you haven' t even graduated yet."

Fabiola waved a dismissive hand, the large diamond on her finger catching the light. "Please. I can just take a semester or two off. My family will be thrilled. They' ve been wanting me to settle down." Her gaze flickered to me, a glint of steel beneath the sweetness.

"Chloe, please," Holden finally said, his voice soft but firm. He was looking at me now, but his eyes were pleading on Fabiola' s behalf. "Just for a little while. Don' t tell anyone."

The weight of his request pressed down on me, suffocating me. My entire body felt tight, coiled like a spring. I was the keeper of their happy secret, a secret that was tearing me apart from the inside out.

I gave a jerky nod, unable to form words. "I have to go," I mumbled, turning and walking away as fast as my trembling legs would carry me. I didn' t look back, but I could feel Holden' s surprised gaze on me. My brisk departure was so unlike my usual lingering presence in his life.

I ducked into an alleyway, the stench of garbage filling my lungs, and slid down the wall, my body finally giving out. The tears came, silent and agonizing. It was real. It was all real. A baby. A family. A future that I was no part of.

Let him go, a voice in my head screamed. He' s a father now. You have to let him go.

But why did it have to be so fast? How could seventeen years of shared history, of inside jokes and secret promises, be erased by a few months of whirlwind romance?

Back at the hospital, Fabiola watched me flee, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She turned to Holden, who was still staring after me with a frown.

"Holden?" she said softly, her hand on his arm. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It' s nothing."

"Are you… mad at me?" she asked, her lower lip trembling slightly. "For getting your mom that special tea from abroad? I know you said she didn' t want to bother anyone with her illness, but I just wanted to help…"

Holden' s expression softened. He pulled her into a hug, ruffling her hair. "Of course not. Don' t be silly. It was a good excuse. Thank you." He glanced one last time in the direction I had disappeared, a strange, unreadable emotion in his eyes.

Fabiola saw that glance. She felt the subtle shift in his attention. And in that moment, a cold, hard determination settled in her heart. She knew I was in love with Holden. It was pathetically obvious. And she would not, under any circumstances, give me a single chance to win him back.

A few days later, my phone buzzed with a text from Fabiola.

Hey Chloe! Me and some friends are going shopping downtown. You should come! It' ll be fun :) xoxo

I stared at the message, a wave of nausea rolling through me. The last thing I wanted to do was spend an afternoon with the woman who was living my dream.

"You should go," my mother said, peering over my shoulder. "It' s good to get out. And it' s important to get along with your best friend' s girlfriend."

The tremor in my voice was undeniable as I replied. "Okay, Mom." Her face softened with a pang of sympathy. She knew how much this was costing me.

The shopping trip was a special kind of torture. Fabiola and her two friends, both carbon copies of her in their designer clothes and bored expressions, floated from one high-end boutique to another. I trailed behind them, a silent, awkward shadow.

We took a break at a chic little café. The girls chattered on, their conversation a dizzying swirl of gossip and brand names.

"Oh, Fabi, that necklace is divine!" one of them, a blonde named Tiffany, gushed. "Is it new?"

Fabiola' s hand went to the delicate diamond pendant at her throat. "Holden gave it to me last night," she said, her voice dripping with casual pride. "Isn' t he the sweetest?"

I felt a familiar pang. Holden had never given me jewelry. Not once in seventeen years.

Just then, Fabiola' s phone rang. Her face lit up. "It' s him!" she squealed, answering with a syrupy, "Hey, baby."

I tried to tune out her side of the conversation, focusing on stirring my overpriced latte, but her words were like tiny daggers. "Oh, that' s amazing! … Yes, of course, I' ll be there. … I love you too."

She hung up, her face glowing. "Holden' s mom wants to meet me," she announced to the table. "She invited me over for dinner tonight."

"Oh my god, you' re meeting the parents!" Tiffany shrieked. "The wedding is totally happening!"

I felt the air leave my lungs. Wedding. The word echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. I would probably be asked to be a bridesmaid. The thought was so grotesquely painful I almost laughed out loud.

Fabiola' s eyes, sharp and calculating, landed on me. "You should come with me to visit Mrs. King sometime, Chloe. I' m sure she' d love to see you." It was a power play, a way of reminding me of her new, intimate place in the King family, a place that used to be mine.

"I' m a little busy with midterms," I said, my voice tight. "But please tell her I said hello."

"Of course," Fabiola said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "I' ll be sure to tell her. Maybe next time Holden can host you himself." The implication was clear: He is the host now, and you are the guest.

I felt a wave of shame and inadequacy wash over me. Fabiola was beautiful, confident, and from a world of wealth and influence I could only imagine. What did I have to offer in comparison? A quiet, steadfast love he didn' t even want.

Fabiola and her friends stood up to leave for their dinner appointment. I was about to gather my things and head home when Tiffany, the blonde, "accidentally" stumbled.

Her full, scalding hot cup of coffee flew through the air and landed directly on my chest and arm.