Old Dreams No Return (Serena) novel Chapter 17

< 17

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17

Liam stood in the downpour beneath the dorm. Rain traced lines down his hair, soaking his shoulders.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d waited like this, all for nothing.

Every time she appeared, she’d walk right past him, not even sparing him a glance.

Rejection after rejection. Cold shoulder after cold shoulder. At first, it was pure frustration, resentment, and anger.

But then, in countless sleepless nights, he was forced to meticulously replay the past.

His mind kept replaying Tiffany posting on her socials about being down, and him immediately ditching me, mid-argument, to spend the entire night on the phone with her.

Or the afternoon he snuck out to buy Tiffany hot cocoa, completely forgetting my own excruciating period cramps. Back then, all he’d done was vaguely tell me to drink more hot water.

And then, at the celebration party, my face flashing white when he casually scooped out the heart of the watermelon and gave it to Tiffany, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Or that time by the spiral staircase, how he didn’t even glance at me, flailing in the water, just to coldly say, “Her life? Her death? What does that have to do with me?

….Every single memory flashed, brutally clear.

He’d taken advantage of my love, years of it, throwing away my patience and pushing my boundaries, over and over.

He used to think I was the one who couldn’t live without him. Turns out, it was the other way around.

The

anger and bitterness that had gnawed at him were slowly consumed by an endless tide of regret and despair.

He turned quiet, the flashy, devil-may-care vibe he used to have slowly draining from him. A persistent gloom and heavy silence now clung to his eyes, his whole face.

He stopped trying to corner me outside the classroom or the Dance Studio. He also stopped sending those gifts I wouldn’t even bother to glance at. Instead, he bought a thick stack of letter paper.

Every night, deep in the quiet hours, after his roommates were dead to the world, he’d sit under his desk lamp, writing. Word by painful word. He carefully folded the letter and slipped it into my dorm’s mailbox downstairs.

It was unsigned, but he knew I’d recognize his handwriting.

Once, twice, three times… he watched from afar as I went to get the mail.

I pulled out that thick stack of letters, didn’t even bother opening them, and just tossed them into a roadside trash can.

My movements were smooth, without a hint of hesitation, as if I wasn’t tossing aside someone’s soul-baring confession, but genuinely just a bunch of literal trash.

Liam stood hidden in the shadows of a distant tree, watching it all unfold, his heart feeling like that invisible hand was squeezing it tight again. The pain was so bad he almost doubled over.

The last faint glimmer of hope vanished with it, completely.

He finally understood that some wounds, once inflicted, could never truly heal.

Some mistakes would never earn forgiveness.

Meanwhile, my life seemed to gradually settle back into a semblance of peace.

But I knew, deep down, a part of me was completely frozen. I was instinctively wary of any feelings that tried to get too close, always keeping people at arm’s length.

Mark, on the other hand, was always good about personal space.

He never tried to force alone time, or pry into my past or personal feelings.

22:13

AU

Goodshort

1.5%

< 17

One time, I was practicing alone in the Dance Studio super late. When I finally came out, it was pouring rain.

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