My Student Stole My Fiancé - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Memories of Lennon played through my mind like an old movie reel—each frame vivid, each moment etched into my heart.
The endless hours of violin practice, his quiet reassurance after every stumble, the backstage celebrations that felt like pure magic, and those winter nights when his lips were the only warmth I needed.
My legs trembled beneath me, barely keeping me upright. I clutched the edge of the bed, my knuckles white. Lennon saw right through me. Even injured, he leaned in, slow and deliberate. His fingers—rough from years of playing, yet impossibly gentle—traced circles on my cheek, steadying me.
"Lennon." My voice was barely a whisper. The shaking finally stopped, but the question burned in my chest. "Do you really love Mia Blake?"
His hand stilled. He hadn't expected me to bring her up.
A heavy sigh escaped him as he pulled away. "Yes," he admitted, voice low. "I saw pieces of the old you in her."
He turned toward the window. Outside, summer birds scattered from the trees, startled into flight. He waited until the silence settled again before speaking.
"But she was never you." His voice was thick with something like regret. "I kept looking for your shadow in her, but in the end… she could never be you."
I listened, numb, as if his words were dredging up ghosts from a past life. Back then, Lennon had been just like Mia—timid but reckless enough to step into my world.
"Lennon," I said softly, "have you ever thought that maybe the person you love isn't me?"
"What you love is the chase. The idea of someone just out of reach. That someone could've been Mia. It could've been me. It could've been anyone."
"You and Mia are the same. Both of you live in the shadows, staring at the light. You hide behind other people, resenting what they have, coveting it."
His jaw tightened. He looked away, unwilling—or unable—to hear the rest.
"You cheated on Mia to get my attention, to force me to turn around and see you. Because you've always been behind me, Lennon. Living in my shadow."
"You say Mia is just my reflection, following in my footsteps. But the truth? You're no different. You've been my shadow too."
"You and Mia—you both use the same desperate, clumsy tricks to grab at things you can't reach."
"Stop."
His hand lashed out, knocking the glass from my grip. It shattered against the wall, shards scattering like broken promises.
Lennon had always been clever. He could've kept this buried forever, fooling everyone—including himself. But I had torn it open, mercilessly.
The edges of his eyes were red. In the suffocating silence of the hospital room, the only sound was his choked, stifled sobs.
I'd rarely seen Lennon cry. He was too good at hiding—his emotions, his pain, his anger.
When Mia provoked him, he masked his concern for me with indifference. When I questioned him, he buried his fury under calm. When I caused him trouble, he swallowed his frustration with forced patience.
He had always played along, keeping our fragile balance intact.
But now, when I was too exhausted to keep pretending—when I was ready to walk away—it was Lennon who couldn't let go.
In his world, I was the one he chased. The one who understood him. The one who belonged with him.
And yet, I was also the one who could destroy everything he'd carefully built.
"Lennon," I whispered, "let's break up."
My hand hovered in the air before finally resting on his back, soothing him in slow strokes.
"Everything you said is right," he choked out, "but Claire… please. Don't leave."
"We can start over."
"I love you, Claire Dawson."
He lifted his face to mine. His eyes glistened, his nose red from crying.
"I love you too, Lennon Sullivan."
"But it's too late."
A broken laugh escaped him. "It's my fault. I realized too late."