Chapter 2

The family dinner at Liam's parents' house was an obligation I couldn't escape. I had promised his mom, Eleanor, I' d come help set up days ago, long before I knew her son was a liar. I put on a smile, a fragile mask that felt like it might crack at any moment.

Every laugh and cheerful conversation in the warm, brightly lit dining room was a grating noise against my raw nerves. I moved through the motions, setting plates and filling glasses, my body on autopilot while my mind was a maelstrom of screenshots and replayed conversations.

"Chloe, honey, have you seen Liam?" Eleanor asked, wiping her hands on her apron. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago to help his father with the grill."

I forced the smile to stay on my face. "He told me he had some things to take care of, Eleanor. I'm sure he'll be here soon." The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

An hour passed. The food was ready, the other guests were arriving, but there was still no sign of Liam. His father, Mark, a kind, quiet man, checked his watch for the tenth time.

"That's not like him," Mark murmured, a line of worry creasing his forehead. "He always answers his phone."

Eleanor pulled out her cell. "I'll call him again."

She put the phone on speaker. We all listened to it ring, and ring, and ring, until it went to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in the room.

"That's strange," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She tried again. The same result. And again. On the fourth try, after a single ring, the call was cut off. A beep signaled the user was busy or had rejected the call.

"He hung up on me," Eleanor whispered, her face pale with shock and hurt. "He's never done that before."

My own phone buzzed in my pocket. I slipped out to the porch, needing a breath of cool night air. It was a notification from Instagram. A new post from a user I didn't follow, but whose name was popping up in the comments of the gossip forum post: Brittany_B. A social media influencer. The girl with the long, blonde hair.

My thumb opened the app against my will. Her latest story was a video. It was shot in a car, music playing loud. She was laughing, turning the camera to the driver's seat. It was Liam. He was smiling at her, a stupid, lovesick grin on his face. Then, she panned the camera down to his phone, which was sitting in the center console.

An incoming call lit up the screen.

The caller ID read "Mom." Brittany reached over, her long, manicured finger pressing the red "decline" button on the screen. She giggled and added a caption in bubbly pink letters: "No interruptions on our weekend getaway! ;) #SorryNotSorry"

The air left my lungs in a rush. It wasn't just that he was with her. It was the casual cruelty of it. He was letting this girl, this stranger, disrespect his own mother while his family was here, worried sick about him.

I looked back through the window into the dining room. I saw Eleanor, now sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands as Mark tried to comfort her.

She was whispering about how he could have been in an accident, how something terrible must have happened. Mark was trying to reassure her, but his own face was tight with worry. I remembered all the times Liam had complained about his parents being "too much," how he felt smothered by their concern.

He saw their love as a burden. And now, while they were in knots with anxiety, he was off on a romantic trip, letting his new girl mock them on social media for the world to see. A cold, hard clarity washed over me. This wasn't just about me anymore. This was about who Liam really was: a selfish, careless boy who would burn down his whole life for a little bit of attention. The mask I wore didn't just crack, it shattered.