Chapter 8

Ariella

After breakfast—if you could call Alex’s relentless teasing “family time”—I escaped to my room, closing the door behind me with a sigh. The silence was a relief, but it also brought a wave of emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with.

Leaning against the door for a moment, I scanned the room. My eyes landed on the small bulletin board above my desk, where a few photos of Damien still lingered. There he was, smiling in one of the group photos from a school trip, and there was another picture of him and Stella that I’d kept just because he happened to be in it. My chest tightened as I realized how much space he had taken in my life—too much space for someone who had never even noticed me the way I wanted him to.

I crossed the room, yanking the pictures off the board one by one. They came off with a slight rip, but I didn’t care. Next, I turned to my desk. A small keychain he had once dropped and never claimed—gone. The ticket stub from the one time we’d gone to a movie as part of a group—trashed. By the time I was done, my desk looked emptier, but it also felt lighter, like I’d started clearing out not just objects but the weight they carried.

I moved to my wardrobe, pulling open the doors. A sea of pink greeted me—tops, dresses, scarves. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Pink wasn’t even my favorite color, but I’d filled my wardrobe with it because Damien once mentioned that he liked pink on girls. It was pathetic, really, how far I’d gone just to catch his attention.

I started sorting through the clothes, pulling out the ones I didn’t like or had only bought because I thought they might impress him. A pale pink blouse I’d worn on a day I’d hoped he’d notice me—into the pile. The soft pink scarf I’d worn when it was freezing out, just because I thought it might catch his eye—gone. As the pile grew, I felt the frustration bubbling up.

Damien had never given me the time of day. Not once had he stopped to really see me. I was always the one chasing him—finding excuses to talk to him, lingering around places I knew he’d be. And what had I gotten in return? A handful of polite smiles and a whole lot of indifference.

I sat on the floor, staring at the growing pile of discarded pink clothes, and let out a deep breath. I wasn’t even angry at Damien anymore. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. It was me—I’d built this whole fantasy around him, chasing after something that was never there.

And now, it was time to stop.

I stood up, determined. I wasn’t just going to clear out my room; I was going to make it mine again. Not a shrine to some unrequited crush, but a reflection of who I really was. I reached for a roll of tape and started replacing the photos on the bulletin board with new ones—pictures of me and Stella, goofy selfies, and even a postcard from a trip I’d taken with my family.

By the time I was done, my room felt different. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And as I looked around, I realized it wasn’t just my room that felt lighter—it was me.

Tomorrow marks the start of lectures at college after summer break, and as I stood in front of my half-empty wardrobe, I realized I needed a fresh start in more ways than one. My collection of pink, Damien-inspired clothes had been significantly thinned out, and it felt like the perfect excuse to go shopping.

The idea excited me, and without thinking twice, I grabbed my phone and called Stella. My best friend answered on the second ring, her cheerful voice cutting through my thoughts.

“Hey, what’s up?” she said.

“Shopping emergency,” I replied, pacing my room. “I need new clothes—desperately.”

Stella laughed, her signature calm but teasing tone making me smile. “What happened to the mountain of clothes in your wardrobe? Did they finally rebel against you?”

“Something like that,” I said with a chuckle. “Let’s just say... I’m overdue for a makeover. Can you meet me in an hour?”

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. That was Stella for you—always up for an adventure, even if it was just a shopping trip.

Stella was everything I wasn’t—effortlessly extroverted but somehow calm and patient at the same time. She could strike up a conversation with a stranger without breaking a sweat, yet she never pushed people beyond their comfort zone. That’s probably why we clicked so well.

Her twin brother Damien, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Despite being Stella’s literal twin, he couldn’t be more opposite. Where Stella radiated warmth and openness, Damien was reserved and introverted. He wasn’t unfriendly, exactly—he just had a way of keeping people at arm’s length. If Stella was the sun, Damien was the quiet shadow lingering just out of reach.

 “By the way,” Stella added after a moment, her tone turning sly, “are we shopping for casual college clothes, or is this part of your new ‘Damien-free’ mission?”

I hesitated for a beat before answering, the words catching slightly in my throat. “Can’t it be both?” I said finally, though my voice came out more defensive than I’d intended.

Stella paused, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “Okay, hold on,” she said, her tone shifting from teasing to curious. “What’s going on? Why this sudden change? You’ve been all about Damien for as long as I can remember.”

I sighed, flopping onto my bed as I cradled the phone against my ear. “I’m just... done, Stella. I don’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Her voice softened, calm and supportive as always. “What happened? Did he say something?”

“No,” I admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “And that’s the point. He doesn’t say anything. He barely even looks at me, Stell. I’ve been throwing myself at him, and it’s like... I don’t even exist to him.”

Stella stayed quiet for a moment, letting me get it all out.

“I mean, I get it,” I continued, my voice growing steadier. “He’s not a bad person or anything—he’s just not interested. And I’ve been wasting so much time trying to get him to notice me, trying to be someone he might like. I’m tired of it. I want to focus on me for a change.”

“Wow,” Stella said softly, and I could hear the warmth in her voice. “I’m proud of you, Ari. That’s a big step.”

“Thanks,” I said, my chest feeling lighter.

“Alright, then,” she said, her usual cheer returning. “Let’s make it official. We’re shopping for you—not Damien, not anyone else. Just Ariella. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said with a small laugh.

“And don’t worry,” Stella added with a smile in her voice. “We’ll find you something amazing. Something that’s all you. No pink, unless you actually like it.”

“Thanks, Stella,” I said, genuinely grateful.

Hanging up, I felt a small sense of relief. Shopping wasn’t just about clothes anymore—it was about stepping into the person I wanted to be. And with Stella by my side, I knew I’d be okay.

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