I Said Yes, He Texted Her 'I Still Love You' - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Her family never approved of Matt—they'd pulled out all the stops to keep them apart. Against all odds, they'd made it work… until just before graduation, when Nina's mom called claiming her grandfather was deathly ill. She raced home, only to find him perfectly healthy. It was all a setup to force her to dump Matt. The old man had threatened to refuse medical treatment unless she obeyed. Trapped, Nina agreed. She never told Matt the truth—couldn't bear him blaming himself or his background. The city was a minefield of memories; she knew she'd crack if she stayed. So she vanished.
"I deleted everything except his number," she admitted, exhaling a slow curl of smoke. "For years, he'd text me life updates. I never wrote back. Blocked him a dozen times, but always unblocked him eventually. Like some pathetic stalker, I watched his life from the shadows, pretending I was still in it." Her voice turned brittle. "Then the messages slowed. Your name started popping up. I knew he was moving on."
"Six months ago, after Grandpa died, I came back to handle his estate. That's when Matt told me he was getting married." A harsh laugh escaped her. "You can't imagine how that felt. He'd sworn he'd wait for me, that we'd end up together. So I lied—said I'd just landed at the airport. Had to know if there was still something there."
"I'm sorry, Lily," she murmured, twisting her fingers. I watched Buddy nosing at a stray cat.
"And now? Got your answer?" I kept my tone light.
"Yeah. He doesn't love me." A beat. "He loves you."
I arched a brow but stayed silent.
"At first, I thought he did," Nina continued. "Then one day at work, he spaced out and said, 'Lily, tie my tie.' We both froze. I played it off as a mistake, but it kept happening. Over and over, he'd call me by your name. That's when I knew—his heart wasn't just gone. It was yours."
"No," I said softly. "You're wrong. He doesn't love anyone but himself." Real love doesn't play games. Doesn't bulldoze boundaries or demand "understanding" to justify selfishness. It sees you—all of you—and stays. Matt's version? Control. Narcissism. A world that had to orbit his wants.
The sunset bled crimson across the river. For a heartbeat, it felt like we were old friends sharing the quiet.
As we turned to leave, Nina flashed her dimples. "I'm leaving again. Who knows when I'll be back." She hesitated. "Oh—and he's sick." A shrug, a flicker of a frown. "Karma, right? Got hit by a car right after I returned. Shattered his leg. Miserable in the hospital. You should visit… if you care."
I gave a noncommittal shrug.