Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 74: Chapter 74

LACEY
TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts and behaviour. Please proceed with care.
I’m so tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep can fix.
The kind that lives in your bones. That never goes away. That makes it hard to even breathe sometimes.
I woke up alone in the suite Céline and I share. For a second, I felt relief. She wasn’t there. No cheerful morning voice. No forced hugs. Just silence.
I love Céline. I really do. She’s been my light, my anchor, the only person who stayed when the rest of the world turned its back.
But sometimes… I wish she’d let me drown.
Let me slip under. Let me disappear.
Because this version of me?
The one left behind after the divorce?
I don’t recognise her.
I used to laugh so easily. I used to fill rooms. Now I can barely fill a bed. I lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling, hoping something — anything — will come and end this feeling. This heaviness. This quiet pain that never screams but always stays.
He left me.
He left me, and everyone acted like I should’ve seen it coming.
Like I wasn’t enough.
Like I was too much.
I think the worst part isn’t the loneliness.
It’s the pretending. Pretending I’m okay. Pretending I’m strong. Pretending I don’t want to take off this mask and finally say, I’m not alright. Please help me.
But I don’t say it.
Because I’ve said it before.
And no one came.
Not even him.
And now, even Céline… even she doesn’t see how broken I am.
Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s why she holds on so tight. Maybe she knows if she lets go—
I’ll fall.
And this time, I might not get back up.
When I finally crawl out of bed, my body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I run a bath and just sit there, staring at the water.
It takes everything in me not to slide my head under and stay there.
To just... disappear.
To stop thinking.
To stop feeling.
To stop seeing his face every time I close my eyes.
Eric.
My Eric.
The man who made me believe I could be loved again.
The man who smiled at my scars and said, “Your past doesn’t make you less worthy.”
He didn’t flinch when I told him about my failed marriages. He didn’t walk away when I told him I’d lost a baby. That the miscarriage from my second marriage had shattered more than just my heart — it had taken away my only chance to be a mother.
Dr. Mahal said it gently. Like softness would make the words hurt less.
But Eric...
Eric stayed.
He stayed through the tears. Through the breakdowns. Through the nights I couldn’t sleep and the mornings I didn’t want to wake up.
He held me like I was something precious. Like I was still whole. Still lovable.
And then one morning, over breakfast, he pushed a thin stack of papers toward me.
Divorce papers.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t cry. He just looked tired. Like something in him had given up.
Like I had become too heavy to carry.
I remember the way my coffee went cold.
The sound of my heart breaking wasn’t loud. It was silent. Just a small, soft crack somewhere deep inside.
And now, the one person who saw me at my worst is gone. And all I have left is this ache. This space in my chest that used to be filled with hope.
I thought he was forever.
But maybe forever just means “until you’re too broken to love.”
Just when I’m about to give in — when I start wondering if maybe it would be easier to let go and sink beneath the water forever — my phone starts ringing.
It buzzes loudly on the counter, pulling me back to the surface.
Julie.
A video call.
I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
But some tiny part of me knows that if I ignore it… I might not come back.
So I drag myself out of the tub, still dripping, still empty, and answer the call.
I force a smile, though it feels like it’s cracking my face open.
“Well, hello, beautiful.”
Julie’s face lights up, her sweet laughter filling the screen like sunshine I can’t feel.
“You couldn’t at least dress up first?! You’re totally flashing me—AHH!”
I laugh, kind of. A broken, breathy sound that doesn’t reach my eyes.
It’s not real. Nothing feels real right now.
“Sorry,” I mumble, grabbing the nearest towel and pretending like I’m not falling apart inside.
She keeps talking, teasing, trying to make me laugh — but I’m somewhere else.
I’m sitting across from Eric again. The way he looked at me when he handed me the divorce papers. So calm. So quiet. Like all the love had been drained out of him.
And here I am, pretending I’m okay, because Julie needs me to be. Because I need me to be.
But I’m not okay.
I don’t even remember what okay feels like anymore.
Still, I force myself to dry off and get dressed while Julie keeps talking, her voice bright and bubbly like always. She doesn’t notice how quiet I’ve gone — or maybe she does and she’s just pretending for my sake. Either way, I’m grateful.
She tilts her head and changes the topic. “So… how’s Liam doing? Still with that pretty girlfriend of his? What’s her name again? Emily?”
“Emilia,” I correct, tugging on a shirt. “Yeah. They’re still together. They’re... disgusting actually.”
Julie grins, showing off her signature dimples. The same ones Liam throws at me when I don’t put in the extra effort to hide my fucked headspace. “You’re just allergic to love right now, but that’s okay. I’ll love you enough for both of us.”
I fake a laugh. It feels like glass in my throat, but I do it anyway.
She’s so beautiful. So full of life. She looks so much like Liam it messes with my head sometimes. Same smile, same laugh, same brightness I used to have too — before everything cracked.
“You doing okay?” she asks softly, her smile faltering just a bit. “I miss you. Can’t you get off early and come visit? You don’t even care about the couple.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “But Céline does—”
Julie immediately gags. “That fake bitch.”
“Julie!” I can’t help the frown tugging at my lips.
“Okay, okay! Sorry. I take it back,” she says, grinning like she means the exact opposite.
I scowl playfully and throw on some shorts. “Anyway, I overheard Céline and Margot’s conversation, so I’m pretty sure our next stop’s pretty close to yours. So I might drop by.”
Julie squeals. “Yes! Make sure Liam comes too— oh! Bring Emilia! God, I just know she’s even prettier in real life than on the phone.”
I snort. “She’s not gonna date you, Jules.”
“You never know,” she says with a wink. “If Li closes his eyes for even one second, I’ll have Emilia walking down the aisle with me.”