POV Bella
Warm spring has finally arrived on campus, sending rectangles of golden sunlight across the cafeteria floor like nature's own spotlight. I sit with Camila at our usual table by the windows, the low thrum of chatter and the clatter of trays settling into a comforting rhythm that feels almost normal.
For the first time since my diagnosis, I genuinely feel at peace. The pills in my bag feel less like death's daily reminder and more like time's precious gift—each dose another day with Ajax, another chance to feel truly alive.
"You're practically glowing," Camila observes, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "It's actually disgusting how happy you look."
I can't help but smile, remembering last week's painting date—Ajax's paint-smeared hands on my skin, the way he looked at me like I was something precious instead of broken. "He's different than I thought. Different than I remembered."
"I never thought I'd say this," Camila admits, shaking her head in amazement, "but I might actually thank Ajax Spencer for making you this happy. Who would've thought the guy we wanted to destroy a few months ago would be the one to bring you back to life?"
The irony hits us both at the same time, and we dissolve into laughter. Real laughter, the kind that bubbles up from somewhere deep and unguarded. I feel lighter than I have in years, like maybe my heart condition isn't the only thing defining my future anymore.
My phone buzzes against the table, the vibration cutting through our laughter. Unknown number. The preview shows a video attachment with no message, just a black thumbnail that could be anything.
"Probably spam," Camila says, but curiosity wins over caution as I slide closer to her on the bench. We share my earbuds, heads bent together like conspirators about to discover some harmless secret.
The video quality is deliberately clear—someone's phone propped up to capture the entire scene at what looks like an afterparty. The background pulses with music and dim lighting, but the foreground is crystal clear. Ajax sits center frame, surrounded by his crew in what looks like a warehouse. Empty beer bottles litter the coffee table, and the atmosphere reeks of masculine bravado even through the phone screen.
Jake's voice cuts through the music like a knife. "So how's the bet progressing? The ice princess must be thoroughly melted by now."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Ice princess. Bet. My blood turns to actual ice, each cell in my body freezing in place as I wait for Ajax's response.
"She's already in love with me—practically begs for my attention now," Ajax's voice responds with that cocky tone I remember from years of torment, years of cruelty I thought we'd moved past. "The sex is just a formality at this point. Give me another week and she'll be completely destroyed."
The words tear through me like shrapnel, each syllable finding its mark with surgical precision.
Destroyed. That's what I am to him—a target for destruction, not love. The happiness I'd built over weeks crumbles in seconds, revealing itself as nothing more than an elaborate house of cards.
"Camila," I whisper, but she's already reaching for the phone.
"Stop watching this. Turn it off."
But I can't. I force myself to watch every second, needing to see the full scope of his betrayal.
The video continues—his friends laughing, making crude jokes about my body, about how "uptight rich girls are always the wildest in bed." Ajax plays along with that familiar cruel smile, the same expression he wore when he made my life hell in high school.
"The best part," Jake continues, raising his bottle in a mock toast, "is she actually thinks you've changed. Like the bad boy really fell for the good girl."
"Please," Ajax scoffs, and the sound cuts deeper than any knife ever could. "She's just another conquest. Admittedly a challenging one, but still just a notch on the belt."
The video ends abruptly, leaving us in suffocating silence. The cafeteria continues around us—students laughing, trays clattering, the espresso machine hissing—but it all feels muffled, like I'm drowning in plain sight.
"Bella, you need your medication," Camila says urgently, her voice cutting through the static in my head.
She's right. My chest is tight, each breath a struggle. But the pain isn't just emotional—my heart is genuinely struggling, beating erratically like it's trying to escape my ribcage. The betrayal has triggered something physical, something dangerous.
"I can't—" I start, but the words catch in my throat.
That's when Zane appears, balancing a tray loaded with fries and a bottle of water, completely oblivious to the catastrophe that just unfolded. The smell of salt and grease follows him like a normal day, a stark contrast to the nightmare I'm living.
"Did you take your meds this morning?" he asks automatically, the question he's asked every day a lot of times. Then he freezes, taking in my white face, Camila's protective posture, the phone still clutched in my trembling hands. "What happened?"
Camila doesn't wait for permission. She hands him the phone and her earbud with grim efficiency. "You need to see this."
The video is barely a minute long, but watching Zane's face transform from confusion to fury is like watching a storm gather in real time.
His jaw clenches tighter with each word, his knuckles going white around the phone. By the time Ajax delivers his final cruel assessment, Zane's cursing carries over the hiss of the espresso machine and the scrape of chairs.
"I'm going to kill him," he says with deadly calm, his voice so controlled it's terrifying. "I'm actually going to end Ajax Spencer."
"Zane—"
"No." He sets the phone down with careful precision, like he's handling explosives. "I warned him. I told him to stay away from you. I told him what would happen if he hurt you."
The cafeteria suddenly feels far too bright, far too loud. Students at nearby tables are starting to stare at our little drama, but I can't bring myself to care about appearances anymore. Everything I believed, everything I'd allowed myself to hope for—it was all a lie. A bet. A game designed to destroy me from the inside out.
And the worst part? It worked. I am destroyed, sitting in pieces in this sunny cafeteria while my heart struggles to keep beating and my brother plans murder and my best friend tries to hold me together with sheer force of will.
I can't respond to Zane's threats or Camila's concern. I'm too busy trying to keep my broken heart beating while everything I believed about love, about second chances, about Ajax Spencer, shatters around me like glass.