Chapter 8
Celine sat on the edge of her bed, the quiet hum of her fan the only sound breaking the silence of her room. The walls, once comforting, now felt like they were closing in. Her heart was heavy with a pain she couldn't understand—couldn't explain. Over and over, her mind replayed the same haunting question: What did I do wrong?
How could Ben walk away just like that? How could he leave her—abandon her—after everything they shared? After all the dreams they built together in whispered conversations and late-night promises?
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she hugged her pillow close, the scent of him still faintly lingering on its fabric. It felt like a cruel joke. She had given him everything. He wasn't just her boyfriend. Ben was her first love—the first man to hold her, to make her feel special, seen, and safe. The first man who made her believe in love. The man who took her virginity not just in body, but in spirit. She gave him her heart, her trust, her future.
And now?
He was gone.
Gone, with Ivy—the rich, elegant girl from a powerful family. Celine had always felt that Ivy walked like the world belonged to her, like nothing was ever out of reach. Perhaps it wasn't. Maybe that's why she had taken Ben too, like one more prize in her golden collection.
"Because she's rich," Celine whispered bitterly. "That's all it took. Money. Status. A well-connected name."
Her voice broke as she stood and walked to her mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, red-eyed and puffy, but she kept looking. Searching for what was missing. Was she not beautiful enough? Not good enough? Was her love not enough?
"Was I a fool?" she asked the girl in the mirror. "Was it just a game to him?"
She sat back down slowly, her legs trembling under her. Her hands clenched the hem of her bedsheet as waves of regret crashed through her. "I gave him my virginity," she sobbed, "how could I have been so vulnerable?"
She remembered that night so vividly. The way he looked at her, the way he whispered that he loved her, that he would always protect her. He was gentle. He was tender. He made her feel like the most precious thing in the world.
Now, it all felt like a lie.
Was it love… or was it just convenience?
Celine tried to push the thoughts away, but they circled her like vultures. Maybe Ivy had something she didn't. Maybe Ben saw her as a stepping stone—a temporary comfort until something "better" came along. Maybe all those sweet words were empty.
Yet, deep inside her, there was a tiny voice screaming, "But he loved me. I know he did."
She clung to that voice like a lifeline.
Still, the betrayal was sharp and real. The emotional wounds bled silently inside her, hidden behind a composed face during the day, only to spill out in full force when she was alone.
She tried to go about her routine—lectures, meals, study sessions—but everything felt hollow. Friends noticed the change, but she brushed them off with forced smiles and mumbled excuses. They didn't understand. They couldn't. How could they grasp the depth of the storm raging inside her?
It wasn't just heartbreak. It was a loss of self. A loss of trust. A loss of dreams.
Celine stared at her phone. Part of her hoped she'd see a message from him. Something. Anything. Even an apology. But there was nothing.
She opened their old messages, scrolling through countless "I love yous," and silly inside jokes. Her fingers hovered over the "Delete" button. But she couldn't do it. Not yet.
She needed to feel it.
All of it.
The love.
The pain.
The betrayal.
Because only by feeling it could she begin to understand it… and maybe, one day, heal from it.
Her thoughts drifted to her parents. How would they feel if they knew? Her mother had always warned her: "Don't give yourself to a man unless you're sure he's worth it."
But how could she have known? How could she have seen this coming?
Celine wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into herself. The pain was raw, yet there was a flicker of strength slowly building in its midst. A faint whisper that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't the end of her story.
Ben had broken her, yes.
But he didn't destroy her.
She was still breathing.
Still alive.
Still capable of love.
Someday, she would stand tall again, stronger and wiser. She would no longer cry over someone who couldn't see her worth. She would find someone who truly valued her—not just for her body or her loyalty, but for her soul.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she would cry.
Tonight, she would mourn.
And that was okay.
Because healing always begins with the breaking.