Chapter 1
Parents often think we’re still too young for relationships, love, and all that—but the problems we face one-on-one are sometimes way too grown-up. Of course, we don’t tell them everything—we’re afraid they’ll stop seeing us as “good,” that we’ll fall in their eyes. But our parents were teenagers too once. They faced the same issues—maybe even harder ones—just like thousands of people all over the world.
Seventeen is a complicated age. When you fall in love at that age, you see the person through rose-coloured glasses—thick ones. But those glasses come off eventually, washed away by tears, pain, resentment, and anger. And when they’re gone, you finally see the person as they are—without expectations. Then comes the real question: do you still want to be with them? Disappointments are inevitable when you believe only in words and ignore actions, always making excuses for your boyfriend.
Maya always tells me and Lainey that breakups and disappointments are just small bumps in the road. It’s we who give them such massive weight, cornering ourselves in a dead-end labyrinth created by our subconscious. But if you managed to get in, then you can find a way out—there’s always a way out.
My only solution at the time was to stop caring. I used to think you had to be born with that ability, that you couldn’t learn it. I was very wrong. When I slowly began to apply this carefree attitude to every area of my life, people started calling me thoughtless and reckless. But I was just tired—tired of being afraid, tired of thoughts attacking me about unresolved problems.
It felt like my life was finally getting back on track. Everyone has skeletons in their closet, of course—doors that can be flung open at the worst moment. That’s what happened when Dean came back into my life, knocking me off balance. Telling the whole story of what happened two years ago felt like a good chance to finally get rid of one of those skeletons.
I looked around the living room at Gavin, Lainey, and Maya. I gathered my thoughts and, once I saw they were ready to really listen, I began my story:
“Two years ago, I was a completely different person. Everything started falling apart after my boyfriend Nathan died. He was the kindest, sweetest soul—the only person I’ve ever truly loved. I still wear the ring he gave me,” I said, lifting my right hand to show the silver infinity ring on my index finger. “I had a few guys after he died, but nothing serious. I didn’t love them—they knew it, and I knew it. Six months after Nathan’s death, Dean showed up. Just like that. And he had Nathan’s eyes. I don’t know why, but his gestures, mannerisms, even the little things—so much of him reminded me of Nathan. Dean felt like someone safe, someone who’d never hurt me. So we started dating,” I paused to take a breath.
“There’s this awful feeling when you know you should let someone go, but you just can’t. I knew I couldn’t love him without constantly comparing him to Nathan, so I decided to end it. But Dean refused. He wouldn’t let me go. So I started doing everything I could to make him leave me. I dyed my hair red, started smoking in front of him, drank too much, flirted with other guys right in front of him. But nothing worked. Then I stopped answering his calls and avoided him completely. That seemed to help—at least for a while. A couple of months passed, and then I started receiving photos of myself: at cafes, at university, in shops, sitting on park benches... I was being watched. And it wasn’t hard to guess by whom.”
“Why are you so sure it was Dean?” Lainey asked, sceptical.
“Because he told me himself. I was furious. I confronted him with the photos. Do you know what he said? He said, ‘Naomi, I’m not the kind of guy who gets dumped. I’m the one who leaves. I’ll never forgive the way you humiliated me. Whenever you think I’m gone and let your guard down—I’ll remind you I’m still here. And I’ll keep making your life miserable.’”
“Not everyone can handle rejection and let go,” Maya said, unable to hide her outrage. “But this... this is insane. He’s not letting you—or himself—move on.”
“That’s not even the worst of it,” I went on. “He drove away every guy I tried to date. So I stopped being surprised when relationships ended—I always suspected it was him. To avoid the heartbreak, I often broke things off first.”
“Naomi, he’s sick. A manipulator. You can’t just let this go,” Maya said, fired up.
“You think I didn’t try to talk to him?” I looked at Gavin. “I asked Gavin not to get involved.”
“Do your parents know?” Maya asked, even though she already seemed to know the answer.
“No. We’ve always handled our problems ourselves,” Gavin replied for me.
“Then why did he say he was your friend?” Lainey looked at Gavin, wide-eyed.
“He wanted to get to me. And the way in was through you. If you haven’t figured it out yet, he’s a born manipulator,” I said, confident in every word.
“I’d call him something much worse,” Maya muttered anxiously.
“That’s my mistake. I let him get too close,” I sighed heavily. “He destroyed every bit of light inside me. I haven’t heard from him since the start of my second year. I thought maybe he’d found a new victim,” I remembered the cup of cold green tea in my hand and took a few sips to soothe my dry throat.
“How were you supposed to know he was crazy? It’s a stupid habit—regretting things from the past. What matters is that you told us now. We’ll figure something out, together. Not today, maybe not tomorrow—but we will help you,” Maya hugged me, and Lainey followed.
“Thank you... I feel so much better now that I’ve told you everything. I’m not as scared anymore of whatever’s ahead.”
After those warm hugs, Maya headed to the kitchen—it was her turn to cook dinner. I went to my room to be alone.
“Can I see the red hair photo?” Lainey managed to lighten the mood.
“Sure,” I smiled for the first time in a while. “Come on.”
Once we entered my room, I opened a drawer and pulled out a large box. I grimaced—it was full of everything Dean had sent me: photos, valentines, cards, jewellery. Lainey gasped when she saw the pile of pictures.
“He’s a total stalker!” she exclaimed, flipping through them.
“That’s his idea of love,” I replied with bitter irony. “Okay, that’s enough drama for today. I’m glad things are good between you and Gavin.”
“So am I,” Lainey said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of him.
“Go spend time with him—you’ve got some catching up to do. I need some personal space.” I walked her out and shut the door.
Exams were just around the corner, and I needed to start preparing. Dean wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. A long fight still lay ahead.
Then my phone buzzed with a message:
“Naomi, I understand you’re still gaining experience, but you’ve been recommended as a promising interior design student. Please revise the project based on my comments. I’ve sent everything to your email.”
Time to rework the project. I packed up Dean’s photos and shoved the box back in the drawer. I was already starting to regret taking this side job. I hadn’t even met the company director in person, though I’d been working there a few weeks. All our communication was through messages and email.
My friend Sophia had recommended the firm—her parents were friends with my boss’s. She’d seen him when she was a kid, but since he was five years older, they never really interacted. Her parents got her the job, but she didn’t want to go alone—so she asked them to take me too. I didn’t mind. It was good experience. Plus, no need to sit in an office all day and skip classes. As long as I delivered projects on time and did them well, no one cared how or when I worked.
I opened the email, read the comments, and got started. If I worked through the night, I could finish it—after all, it was only 10 p.m. My phone was on silent, but I noticed a call from “Boss.”
“Yes?” I answered, a little unsure.
“Hi Naomi. Sorry for the late call. I was going to text, but I wasn’t sure you’d see it,” he said, his voice tinged with nerves. “I need the project for tomorrow. Will you be able to finish the revision? I have to show the client a preliminary version.”
“Yes, I’m already working on it,” I replied calmly.
“Thank you. If the client likes your work, I’ll have a personal assignment for you.”
“What kind of assignment?” I asked, a bit wary.
“You’ll find out later. Don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
“All right.”
“Save everything on a flash drive—I’ll pick it up in the morning.”
“Okay. See you.”
Luckily, I had a flash drive at home.
Normally Sam would handle these things—not the director himself. Sam led the field measurements and photography phase. The girls had already teased me about possibly dating him, but he was just a colleague.
I had to fix a mistake in the floor plan and suggest another furniture layout. I finished around 2 a.m. and immediately collapsed into bed.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by a phone call.
“Hello?” I croaked.
“Naomi, I’m outside your building,” said my boss cheerfully.
“Okay. Give me five minutes.” I hung up and forced myself out of bed to get dressed and bring him the flash drive.
My five minutes turned into ten—I was slow-moving. I stepped out makeup-free, hair a mess, completely unprepared. I’d imagined my boss differently. Leaning against his car, arms crossed, was a man nearly a head taller than me. His gray coat made his green eyes stand out. Neatly styled dark-blond hair, a designer suit, shoes, and watch.
Very polished. Not only did he have a nice voice—he looked good, too. I pushed the thought away quickly.
“Good morning, Keith,” I smiled slightly and handed him the red heart-shaped flash drive.
He took it, looked at me, then at the drive.
“Don’t worry—I’ll return your heart safe and sound,” he smiled.
“That would be nice,” I replied, dryly noting his poor sense of humour.
“If you can get ready quickly, I can drive you to university,” he offered politely.
“No, thanks. I don’t have class first period, so I might get more sleep,” I blurted without thinking.
“Have a good day, Naomi,” he said, opening his car door.
“Thanks. You too.” Without waiting for him to leave, I turned around and hurried home, eager to continue my sleep.
Back in bed, I shut my eyes—only to be interrupted by a message.
“Good news. I’ll tell you Friday at the party. Bring the girls. At my place.”
Sophia, as always, was keeping the suspense alive.
