Beyond The Hurt

Angel's POV

My name is Angel.

I'm a nineteen-year-old girl, and I hate socialising. The only person I genuinely talk to is my best friend, Samuel.

We've been best friends since we were in diapers, and I can proudly say I know almost everything about him. I know all his firsts.

When he lost his first tooth.

The first time he got into a fight.

His first heartbreak.

The first time he hit the gym.

And his first love.

He's six foot four, gorgeous, and basically every girl's dream.

Mine included.

Growing up, I'd always known he was handsome. I just never saw him that way. Not until I realised he wasn't just handsome.

He was hot.

And when I finally realised what I felt for him, I knew we could never end up together. Still, knowing that didn't stop me from falling harder and harder for him.

Whenever I saw him flirting with other girls, my heart ached. It hurt knowing we could never be like that. Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I held on to this made-up fantasy that one day, he'd look at me differently.

That he'd finally notice me.

That he'd see how much better I was for him than those other girls and, somehow, fall in love with me.

But that was all it ever was.

A fantasy.

A stupid one.

Well, I was finishing secondary school in a few weeks, and we'd already written our final exams.

Graduation was also approaching, and I could feel my migraine returning just thinking about the dresses, the preparations, and all the shenanigans I'd have to endure that day.

To make matters worse, our school had decided we needed to keep attending classes to help shape our decision-making skills and prepare us for a better future.

But we all knew it was nonsense.

This wasn't what I'd signed up for. Just thinking about the last two weeks of my school life made me feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out.

All I wanted now was some space from everything and everyone.

Apparently, that was too much to ask.

I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder and made my way to my last class of the day, only to run into my said best friend—the reason behind my sleepless nights—and my number-one anti-fan, Elizabeth.

His... girlfriend.

I'd been doing my best to avoid facing him, but that was proving much harder than expected.

You might be wondering why I'd been avoiding him, right?

Well, Elizabeth had cheated on him, then somehow managed to make herself the victim. Apparently, he hadn't been attentive enough.

Whatever that meant.

Samuel had been devastated. He'd practically become a shell of himself. He was the one who'd been cheated on and dumped, yet somehow, I was the one losing sleep over it.

I was the one consoling him.

The one staying up with him night after night when even his parents couldn't get through to him.

He wouldn't let anyone else in. I was the only person he'd talk to, and no matter how sweet that might sound, it placed a lot of responsibility on my shoulders.

I'd been there for him through everything, even when I was barely holding myself together.

So, imagine my surprise when I heard our classmates saying they'd gotten back together.

Snort.

I was literally the person who'd stayed up countless nights comforting him, listening to him, and helping him pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

And even if he was going to get back together with a cheater, the least he could have done was tell me, right?

Instead, here they were, acting all lovey-dovey as though nothing had ever happened.

Whatever.

I might as well sneak away before I lost it and murdered one of them.

"Where have you been all day?"

Except, apparently, I wasn't that lucky.

"...School."

"Haven't seen you around all day."

I rolled my eyes at his obvious attempt to get on my nerves.

"It's not my fault your eyes are defective. I've been here since classes started. And maybe you should get some corrective glasses while you're at it. We can't have you running into a pole now, can we?"

"Ooh. Low blow, baby girl." He whispered, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

"Angel, there's no need to be so uptight. Babe's just worried about you," Elizabeth said, fake concern plastered across her face.

I snorted "I don't need you to tell me how to behave."

Before either of them could respond, a clear, sharp voice rang out behind us.

"Would the three of you care to explain what's keeping you at the door while the rest of the class is waiting to begin?"

Right.

We were actually supposed to be having a class.

"Very sorry, ma'am."

"Get inside. Let's begin."

"Alright, ma'am."

I hurried to my seat, hoping that would be the end of my unfortunate encounter with the two of them.

Just as I was settling in, a paper plane landed on my desk.

I unfolded it and scoffed quietly, grateful that the teacher hadn't noticed.

What's wrong with you today?

How.

Dare.

He.

How dare he ask me what was wrong?

Nothing.

I scribbled my reply, folded the paper into a plane, and sent it flying back to him.

Seconds later, another one landed on my desk.

You have that look on your face.

What look?

The one you get whenever you're mad at me.

I stared at his reply before letting out a quiet snort.

Why wouldn't I be mad at you?

I rolled my eyes and scribbled back.

I don't have any look on my face, and I'm not mad at you.

His reply came almost immediately.

Now I know you're mad at me. Tell me what I did, and I'll apologise.

I sighed, suddenly feeling too exhausted to do anything else.

This was exactly one of the reasons I'd fallen for him.

He'd always known me better than anyone else. He could read me like an open book, sometimes noticing things about me before I even realised them myself.

He cared about me.

And yet, here I was, being selfish because he was finally happy with someone else.

Or at least, he thought he was.

I crumpled the paper and shoved it beneath my desk, forcing myself to focus on whatever the teacher was droning on about.

---

After class...

The moment the teacher dismissed us, I breathed a sigh of relief and practically dashed out of the classroom.

I wasn't about to give Samuel another opportunity to question me.

I kept walking until I reached the school gate, where I pulled out my phone to call my dad.

Ring... ring...

"Hello, Dad."

"Hey, my little princess. How are you?" Dad's deep voice came through the phone.

"I'm fine, Dad. Which side are you?"

"I'm on the other side of the gate, dear," he replied.

"Okayyy. I'm on my way now."

I ended the call, slipped my phone securely into my pocket, and walked over to Dad's car.

"How was school today, darling?" Dad asked as soon as I settled into the passenger seat.

"Eh, it was so-so," I replied, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

Dad chuckled.

"Tired?"

I nodded, my head bobbing like a chicken pecking at rice.

"Veryyy."

He hummed thoughtfully.

"You should get some sleep, then. I'll wake you when we get home."

"Thanks, Dad. Love you."

He chuckled at my drowsy words, but before he could reply, I'd already drifted off, like a bulb running on low power.

"Mm."

---

Thirty minutes later...

"Wake up, sweetie. We're home."

Dad's voice slowly pulled me out of my sleep. He was already reaching over to unbuckle my seat belt.

"Oh." I mumbled, blinking groggily as I tried to get my bearings. "When did we get home?"

"Not long ago. Come on, get up. We need to head inside."

I groaned, reluctantly climbing out of the car. Dad locked it, and we headed into the house together.

The moment we stepped inside, the smell of roasted meat and spices welcomed me.

Suddenly, I had a spring in my step.

My stomach growled almost immediately.

I smiled to myself before turning to Dad.

"Dad, I'm going to meet Mum."

He chuckled, a knowing look crossing his face.

"Mm. Go on."

I hurried towards the kitchen, and there she was.

The love of my life.

Mum stood by the cooker, her apron tied snugly around her waist, one hand resting on her hip while the other stirred the sauce bubbling on the stove with a wooden spoon.

I walked up to her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Good evening, Mum."

"Good evening, dear. How was school today?" she asked.

"Eh, it was so-so," I replied, my eyes fixed on the bubbling sauce.

Mum chuckled at my obvious distraction.

"Hungry?"

I nodded rapidly.

"Yes, ma!"

"I made your favourite."

"I know." I let out a dramatic groan. "Can I eat now?"

I gave her the cutest puppy eyes I could manage.

Mum said nothing. She simply watched me, a lingering smile playing in her eyes.

For a moment, I was convinced she'd give in until she opened her mouth.

"No. You stink."

I frozen, I placed a hand over my chest, my face twisting into an expression of exaggerated hurt.

"I trusted you."

Mum laughed at my antics.

"Go wash up and come downstairs for dinner."

"...Fine," I grumbled, already rushing towards the stairs. "I'll be back in a bit."

I hurried to my room, grabbed my towel, and disappeared into the bathroom.

As I showered, my thoughts inevitably drifted back to Samuel.

I couldn't help reminiscing about the time we'd spent together before he'd gotten a girlfriend.

We'd been like two peas in a pod, practically inseparable. Wherever one of us went, the other wasn't far behind.

But that was before he met her.

We'd promised each other that we wouldn't neglect our friendship, even when we eventually got into relationships of our own.

We'd promised that no matter who came into our lives, we'd always make time for each other.

I guess that had just been another silly promise.

A promise that was easier to make when neither of us had someone else to choose.

Grumble.

My stomach's loud complaint dragged me out of my thoughts.

Right.

Enough reminiscing. Food first, heartbreak later.

I hurried out of the bathroom and got dressed.

Considering the weather, I opted for a short tank top and shorts. I wasn't about to risk having a heatstroke in my own house.

Once I was dressed, I picked up my phone.

And promptly froze.

I was mortified by the number of missed calls and messages staring back at me.

Every single one was from the same person.

Samuel.

I frowned and opened our chat.

What's going on?

Are you ignoring me now?

Why didn't you pick up my calls?

That's it. I'm coming over.

Be there in thirty.

"..."

What?

Why on earth was he coming over just because I hadn't replied to him immediately?

Was he acting like I owed him money or something?

He'd better not show up here if he didn't want trouble.

He could go and live happily ever after with his girlfriend for all I cared.

I tossed my phone onto the bed, ignored his messages, and practically ran downstairs, my mouth already watering in anticipation of dinner.

When I reached the dining room, I served myself and practically inhaled the first bite.

"Ugh!" I moaned, closing my eyes in satisfaction. "This tastes so good."

"Obviously," Mum replied, puffing her chest out slightly.

"Marry me, please?"

Dad shot me a playful glare.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Wife snatcher."

I scoffed.

Honestly, the audacity.

As if Mum hadn't already chosen the better man.

---

After dinner, I returned to my room, finally deciding to reply to Samuel so he wouldn't bother coming over.

I was alive and kicking. Why should I let him reduce my life bar by showing up here?

I'd barely begun composing my message when I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

I frowned.

Who could that be?

Mum didn't knock, and Dad usually just called my name from the hallway.

It couldn't be...

"Come in."

Apparently, it could.

"I was going to come in whether you said that or not," Samuel said as he walked into my room, glaring at me.

I gulped and instinctively took a much-needed step backwards.

He looked furious.

Crazy furious.

But all my traitorous mind could focus on was the way his arms flexed as he shrugged off his jacket.

Seriously, Angel?

I shook my head, desperately trying to rid myself of those thoughts.

Now was not the time to admire the very person who was ruining my emotional stability.

I cleared my throat.

"Why are you here?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest in an attempt to steady my rapidly beating heart.

"You weren't picking up my calls." He frowned, stepping further into my room before closing the door behind him.

"I was in the shower when you called."

"And my messages?"

"I was having dinner."

"...You could have called or texted me back."

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

Then, all the anger I'd been trying to suppress came rushing to the surface.

"...And that's exactly what I was about to do before you barged into my room. What right do you think you have to question me about my choices?"

He fell silent.

"It is MY business if I don't want to reply to your texts or return your calls immediately. MY business, Samuel. Not YOURS."

His jaw tightened.

"I'm your best friend. Don't I deserve a reply?"

"I'll reply at my own convenience."

I knew I was being petty.

I knew I was acting out of jealousy and hurt.

But he deserved it.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Samuel. You don't get to tell me what to do."

Something shifted in his expression.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, suddenly sounding as though he'd figured something out.

I blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been avoiding me because I got back together with her?"

"...I wasn't avoiding you, and it's your choice if you—"

"You're my best friend, Angel." He cut me off, his voice turning cold. "Aren't you supposed to be happy whenever I'm happy?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief.

"Happy? Sammy, you got back together with your toxic, cheating ex!"

His jaw clenched.

"You don't understand. I love her."

My heart dropped.

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

My hands trembled slightly, and I had to fight the urge to look away from him.

I love her.

Three words.

Three stupid words that somehow managed to hurt more than they should have.

"...Okay." I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod. "No problem. You love her, right?"

He said nothing.

I nodded again, feeling tears gathering in my eyes.

"Fine. But I won't be there when she cheats on you again. I promise you that."

"She won't," he said confidently.

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped me.

"She won't?" Tears slipped down my cheeks. "Sammy, are you a fool, or are you just pretending to be oblivious?"

"She promised," he insisted, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

Then, before I could stop myself, another laugh escaped me.

It was a terrible sound, even to my own ears.

A humourless, self-deprecating laugh that made my chest ache.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

I looked up at him, determined to make sure he heard every word that came out of my mouth.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater."

"Don't talk about her like that. She's my girlfriend!" he snapped, raising his voice slightly.

I stared at him.

His girlfriend.

Of course.

His girlfriend deserved his defence.

His girlfriend deserved his trust.

His girlfriend deserved the benefit of the doubt.

And what did I deserve?

The privilege of watching him make the same mistake twice?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked towards the door, pulling it open.

"Get out."

"Angel, I—"

"Out," I repeated, my voice firmer this time.

He hesitated, looking at me as though he wanted to say something else.

But I couldn't bear to hear it.

Not another word about how much he loved her.

Not another promise that everything would be different this time.

Not when I was standing right in front of him, trying desperately to keep my own heart from falling apart.

He finally stepped out of my room, just as Mum appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Angel, what's—"

"Mum, I don't want to see him, please. Tell him to leave."

My voice wavered, and I hated myself for it.

Mum's expression changed the moment she took in my face. She looked from me to Samuel, understanding dawning in her eyes.

Without asking any questions, she turned to him.

"Leave, Samuel. You can both talk another time. She needs to rest."

He lowered his head slightly.

"Okay, Auntie."

Then he looked at me one last time.

"Good night, Angel. And... I'm really sorry."

I turned away before he could see the tears spilling freely down my cheeks.

The moment he was gone, I slammed my bedroom door shut.

I leaned against it for a few seconds, desperately trying to hold myself together.

But the moment I could no longer hear his footsteps, my knees gave way.

I slid to the floor, buried my face in my hands, and cried my heart out.

I cried for the boy I'd loved for years.

For the best friend who'd always known me better than anyone else.

For the promises we'd made and the memories I'd foolishly believed would always be enough to keep us close.

And, perhaps most painfully, for the little girl inside me who'd spent years hoping that one day, he'd look at her and see something more than a best friend.

I didn't know how long I stayed there.

I didn't know when the tears finally stopped.

All I knew was that, somewhere between the ache in my chest and the exhaustion weighing down my body, I must have drifted off.

Because the next thing I knew, everything had gone quiet.