❤️🔥His Hot introvert❤️🔥
🏵️(The bet)🏵️
🪻WRITTEN BY CRYSTAL.O.ORI🪻
❌ DO NOT COPY OR REPOST❌
(Episode 25)
DYLAN’S POINT OF VIEW
The courtyard was eerily still, the sun dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass. A small number of late students meandered across the lawn, clearly in a hurry to go home. I craved a moment of solitude, just five minutes of reprieve from the weight of being Governor Freeman’s constant disappointment. But of course, it seemed that tranquility was simply too much to wish for.
“Dylan!” A voice pierced the air, sharp and demanding, causing a few heads to lift in my direction. I instantly recognized the familiar cadence. Nianna was jogging toward me, and I sighed deeply, shoving my hands deep into my pockets as if to shield myself from her approach.
“What is it, Nianna?” I muttered, fatigue lacing my voice.
“Just hear me out,” she replied, breathless from her effort. There was an urgency in her tone that made me sigh again.
“I missed you.” Her words landed heavily in the air, hitting me like a cold rain shower, and I felt irritation seep into my bones almost immediately.
“Do not start” I responded tersely.
“I mean it,” she insisted, closing the distance between us.
“You’ve been ignoring me for ages now and I can’t stand it anymore. I’m genuinely confused about what I did wrong. We used to talk, and there was something real between us, I know it…please, I just need one more chance.” Her voice was pleading as she reached toward me, attempting to take my hand. I instinctively recoiled, stepping back to create space between us.
“Nianna, or whatever your name is, please just stop. I have too much going on in my head right now, and your presence is not helping. Honestly,” I snapped, my voice rising higher than I intended.
Several students across the courtyard slowed their pace to catch a glimpse of our escalating confrontation. Nianna flinched at my tone but continued on, her voice softening.
“You can’t just cut me off like that. We were something, Dylan.” I rubbed a hand over my face in exasperation.
“Something? Nianna, it was a fling, nothing more than that. And you knew it, so why are you making this such a big deal?” I felt a wave of frustration wash over me, and I noticed her mouth fall open in shock.
“A fling?” she echoed, incredulous, a huff escaping her lips.
“Yeah,” I forced out, feeling the weight of the words as I spoke them.
“We hung out a few times, things happened between us, and now it’s over. You were not my first, and believe me, you won’t be my last. Please, just stop texting me, stop calling me. Let this die.” I frowned, not meaning for my words to sound quite so harsh, but anger and fatigue were intertwining together in a way I couldn’t control. She should just get the hint already.
Her eyes widened, shimmering with disbelief and hurt, as if she couldn’t fathom my indifference. “I meant nothing to you?” she uttered, disappointment etched across her features. I gently shook my head, trying to convey my own struggles.
“I can’t be involved with you any longer, so just grow up and move on already,” I shouted, my voice echoing across the empty courtyard. Nianna let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Right. You can’t because of her.” Her statement knocked the wind out of me, and I raised my eyebrows in sudden surprise.
“What?” I muttered, genuinely caught off guard. She scoffed at my reaction.
“Violet,” she spat the name, venom lacing her words.
“Ever since she entered the picture, you’ve changed. Don’t try to deny it; it’s all about her!” I took a step back, lowering my voice, trying to reclaim some sense of composure.
“This isn’t about anyone but me. I’m done with you. I used you, like I’ve done before, so just move on,” I yelled, my anger flaring yet again. There was something about her mentioning Violet that ignited something within me. Nianna’s wide-eyed stare lingered, her chest rising and falling swiftly as she processed my words. Then her expression softened, an air of desperation surrounding her.
“We could start over,” she whispered, taking another step closer to me.
“I’ll be quiet. No one has to know… I can be good to you. Remember when you always said you loved me? Remember how much you loved my body?” Her words slithered through the air as she invaded my personal space.
“Nianna, please, no.” The words escaped my lips more forcefully than I intended. I wished she would just leave me alone; I was already weighed down by so much stress.
VIOLET’S POINT OF VIEW
The corridor leading outside was alive with the familiar cacophony that followed the end of the school day lockers slamming shut, laughter carrying on the air, and a whistle echoing from the field. I had intended to take the back gate home; the main entrance was far too congested for my liking. However, as I approached the corner, I heard voices that made me freeze in my tracks. They were too familiar, too unsettling to ignore.
“Nianna, stop,” I heard Dylan’s voice, tight with anger and tension. Something in the pit of my stomach told me that I shouldn’t linger, yet I found myself unable to move. With a cautious glance through the door, I spotted the two of them. Nianna looked almost fragile, trembling as she faced Dylan, who practically radiated fury.
Even from my vantage point, I could see her hands quivering as she reached out toward him. “You can’t just erase me!” she shouted, the frustration cracking her voice.
“It was just a fling, Nianna! Stop the incessant calling and texting!” Dylan yelled back, and I felt a knot form in my stomach. A fling? My heart sank at the realization.
He turned away, clearly unable to bear looking at her any longer, but she grabbed his arm, desperately crying out something I couldn’t quite catch. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath, while Nianna’s sobs echoed painfully in the space between them.
Before I could convince myself to turn away, her gaze locked onto mine. My instinct was to leave immediately, but my body betrayed me when she called out; it was like a slap that stung my face.
NIANNA’S POINT OF VIEW
For a fleeting moment, it felt like the world had grown silent, but then I saw her. Violet. Standing just around the corner, her eyes wide, confusion and hurt etched across her face. The timing felt so acutely wrong, and bitterness twisted in my chest.
Dylan followed my gaze, turning towards Violet as well, but she was already backing away, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Something inside me snapped at that moment.
“Stop, Violet! This is all your fault!” I screamed, my voice slicing through the air.
“He was mine before you showed up! Do you hear me?” I yelled, feeling the adrenaline surging through me. Violet froze for a moment, but she didn’t turn back to look at me. I could see her shoulders stiffen before she hurried away quickly, quietly vanishing from my sight. My vision blurred with tears, and I turned my frustration on Dylan.
“Happy now?” I muttered, my voice laced with bitterness. He looked like he wanted to respond, but it seemed words failed him. Instead, he cursed under his breath, the sound low and raw.
“Fantastic. Just perfect. You’ve ruined everything,” he said as he glared at me, anger radiating from his posture. Then he stormed off, leaving me there, the weight of my sorrow pressing down heavily on my shoulders, tears streaming down my face.
VIOLET’S POINT OF VIEW
As I trudged home, my memories of the day seemed to dissolve into confusion. I couldn’t recall a single step I took on the pathway that led from the school gate to my house. One moment, I was standing there, grappling with Nianna’s sharp voice echoing in my mind—“He was mine before you came!”—and in the next, I found myself knocking on the front door of my house, feeling utterly numb from the inside out.
The events that had just transpired weighed heavily on me, and an instinctual urge to walk home took over, a desperate need to think things through and find some clarity. Thankfully, the school was just a stone’s throw away from my home, which made the journey relatively short.
Once settled on my bed, I absentmindedly fiddled with the bracelet wrapped around my wrist. Oddly, it felt surprisingly heavy now. I turned it over in my fingers, attempting to catch the warm afternoon sunlight, but the charm failed to dazzle me like it once did. Instead, it appeared muted and lifeless. Just as a deep wave of despair washed over me, my phone buzzed fiercely on the pillow beside me.
The notification flashed, revealing yet another ominous message from that same unknown number. “Told you. He’s not who you think he is,” it read. My heart raced uncontrollably as I threw the phone onto the pillow, unable to comprehend the implications of the words staring back at me. Whoever was behind these texts always seemed to know the exact right moment to deliver a blow that would shake my already fragile world.
The harsh realization of betrayal hit me hard: Nianna had been sleeping with Dylan, and all the while, she had pretended to loathe him. The audacity of her duplicity left me scoffing in disbelief. She truly embodied the very definition of a snitch.
“He was mine before you came,” I recalled her venomous words, a relentless echo that gnawed at my insides. While I felt wronged by her actions, a part of me recognized that perhaps this was a blessing in disguise; maybe now I wouldn’t have to endure the pretense of friendship with someone who had proven to be a traitor.
I sighed, feeling tears begin to slide down my cheeks, an unexpected relief amid the heartache. Yes, I was hurt; it was only natural to feel this way. For so long, I had believed I had a friend in Nianna, only to discover she was far more of an enemy than I could have ever anticipated.
“Why are you crying, Violet? Seriously, she’s not even worth this,” I whispered to myself, trying to regain a sense of control just as my door creaked open. I hurriedly wiped the tears off my face, hoping to mask the turmoil brewing inside. It was Vera, my personal maid, coming in with a tray of food, a reminder that life continued even as my heart shattered into pieces. I had asked her to deliver my meal to my room, but in that moment, I could hardly muster the hunger that should’ve accompanied the savory aroma wafting through the air.
DYLAN’S POINT OF VIEW
I found myself driving aimlessly, the world outside blurring into a cacophony of colors. Images of her face kept flashing through my mind, and the memory of her fake tears and that stunned expression when I casually dropped the word “fling”. How could she have been so foolish as to truly believe that I loved her? This was turning into a situation I never intended to complicate.
Violet……her expression as she caught us, the pain and disbelief etched across her face.
“Stupid,” I muttered, hitting the steering wheel lightly.
“You had one job keep it clean for the bet.”I thought with a deep sigh.
The drive home felt interminably long. The further I drove, the more the road twisted through memories I desperately wished to forget the colorful campaign banners dotting the streets, the imposing security gate of my home, and the marble steps leading to an entrance that always left me feeling like an intruder in my own life. My mother was the first to spot me as I stepped through the door, emerging from the kitchen with a towel draped over her hands a clear sign she was cooking for her husband….. obviously trying to please him.
“Dylan,” she breathed out, her voice tinged with both surprise and relief.
“You’re finally here!” she added, glancing at me with a hint of concern. I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the day settle into my bones.
“I didn’t exactly have much choice,” I murmured, rolling my eyes slightly before she could respond.
Just then, my father made his grand entrance from the hallway. Governor Freeman, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, with a tie perfectly knotted and a steely expression that could cut through glass, stood before me like a looming storm cloud.
“Finally decided to show up, have you?” he said sharply, scrutinizing me thoroughly.
“I was at school,” I shot back defensively, but before I could utter another word, he interjected.
“Don’t start with your excuses!” he barked as he crossed his arms, a gesture I knew all too well signified that he was displeased.
“Do you have any idea how it feels to receive phone calls about my son throwing parties? About the chaos you’re creating for our family name?” His words hit me like daggers, and he was quick to dispense with any pleasantries, diving right into his lecture without so much as asking how I was doing.
“Um, honey, he just got here! Can’t you at least let him rest or grab some water?” My mother tried to interject, but he silenced her with a raised hand.
“It was just one party,” I maintained, attempting to keep my tone even and calculated.
“You make it sound like I started a riot,” I added with a hint of sarcasm, but he merely scoffed.
“Do you even grasp the meaning of perception in my line of work?” he questioned, his voice rising like a tide.
“Yeah. It means pretending,” I shot back, and I could see his jaw tighten in response to my retort.
“Watch your mouth,” he warned with a sharp tone, but it was a warning that fell on deaf ears as my mother hurried to intervene.
“Please, both of you—let’s not do this,” she pleaded, but I could feel the familiar tension mounting in the air.
“You’ve had every opportunity handed to you, Dylan,” he continued, his voice escalating further.
“Top schools that I built for you, elite tutors, more money than you could possibly need—and what are you giving back? Gossip, scandal, and complaints,” he belted out, his words echoing in the entryway.
“I never asked for any of this,” I shot back, my voice sharp and filled with a mix of frustration and anger.
“You didn’t need to ask for it! You were born into this!” he bellowed in response, the intensity of his voice echoing through the room.
“That’s precisely the issue!” I retorted, my emotions bubbling to the surface.
“I was born into your life, not my own.” My words rang out with conviction, and I noticed Mom instinctively clutching her hand to her chest in shock.
“Dylan…” she breathed, her tone laced with disbelief. It was rare for me to raise my voice at my dad like this.
“No, let him finish,” my father interjected coldly, his demeanor unwavering.
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, inhaling a shaky breath to steady myself.
“You don’t really know me. You have no idea what I enjoy, what I truly want—you only seem concerned about how I present myself in front of the cameras,” I expressed, feeling the weight of each word. He moved closer, his imposing figure overshadowing me.
“Then you need to start giving me something that’s actually worth showcasing,” he replied, and the silence that followed felt heavy, as if we were submerged in a thick fog that was suffocating us.
Finally, Mom’s voice cut through the tension, trembling with emotion. “Please, both of you, just stop. You’re saying things that you’re going to regret later.”
He turned to her, his expression hardening. “Don’t defend him, Claire. This is exactly what has led him to act like this.”
Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “Because he’s our son, not just some pawn in your campaign.” Her words struck him harder than any insult I could have uttered, leaving him momentarily speechless. He didn’t respond; instead, he began adjusting his cuff links—an old habit of his that signaled he was attempting to disconnect from his feelings.
I swallowed hard, the emotions swirling within me, and looked away, feeling a surge of determination. “I’m leaving,” I declared.
“Don’t dare walk away from me, Dylan!” he shouted, but by then, I was already moving toward the door.
Once outside, the cooler air enveloped me, offering a sense of freedom I desperately craved. For a brief moment, I stood on the steps, taking deep breaths as I tried to calm the storm within. Then, I climbed into my car and turned the ignition. As my hands trembled on the steering wheel, I couldn’t help but reflect on the irony of the situation. Despite his constant talk about control, my father didn’t grasp the first thing about it at all. You cannot truly control someone who has already surrendered to the realization that it no longer matters what happens next.
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*TBC
