Chapter 2
I took a bite of the apple. It was so sweet, my eyes grew misty.
That winter was freezing, and my cold just wouldn't go away. Nova kept saying I was hopeless, telling me Wyatt was just a block of ice, there was no way I'd ever thaw him out.
I said, "Even the coldest stone has a crack somewhere, and for Wyatt, Stella was that crack."
Stella was his childhood sweetheart, his Achilles' heel, the one who bailed when he was at his lowest.
If I could patch up that weakness, I'd come out on top.
Right before winter break, I heard Wyatt wasn't going home. He was staying on campus to work, living in that drafty old dorm room.
I didn't go home either. I made up some excuse to stay at school.
On Christmas, I showed up at his dorm with an insulated food container in hand.
He'd just come back in, still carrying the cold from outside. The moment he saw me, he frowned.
"Bella, are you ever gonna stop?" he said.
"Nope," I replied, setting the steaming dumplings on the table. "Eat up, then do whatever you want."
That night, we sat in his cramped dorm room, listening to the occasional firecrackers going off outside.
He was drinking the cheapest liquor he could find.
After a few drinks, he looked at me, his eyes starting to glaze over.
Suddenly, he reached out and gripped my chin hard, his hold almost bruising.
"Bella, do you feel sorry for me or something?" Wyatt asked, his voice rough.
"Nope. I just think you're so damn attractive," I shot back.
Wyatt laughed, almost to the point of tears.
Then, out of nowhere, he pulled me into his arms, his breath reeking of cheap booze.
"Do you wanna be with me?" Wyatt asked, his voice rough.
He said it so offhand, like he was just asking if I'd had dinner yet.
I'd been waiting half a year for him to say that.
"Yeah," I replied.
During our first year together, I really thought I'd won.
Wyatt was still distant, but at least he'd hold my hand, sit with me at meals, and on my birthday, he'd show up with a bunch of fresh flowers, not expensive, but always thoughtful.
He was constantly hustling, grinding away in his professor's research group and picking up every side job he could to make some extra cash.
I stretched my allowance as far as it would go, always coming up with ways to make sure he had something extra to eat.
Nova couldn't take it anymore and joked that I was basically treating Wyatt like my charity project.
I just laughed and said, "No, I'm investing in a hidden gem."
But deep down, I knew I was just chasing a fantasy.
Wyatt never hid his phone from me; he let me scroll through it whenever I wanted. I rarely bothered, but one day, I happened to open his social media.
In his friend list, there was someone called "S."
Her profile had zero posts, but the picture was unmistakable, a woman's back, clear as day.
That was Stella.
My heart went cold.
It wasn't that she had no posts; Wyatt had her pinned to the top or marked as a favorite.
The worst part? That was the exact day Stella went public with her new boyfriend.
That night, Wyatt had a lot to drink.
When he came back, I was just sitting on the couch, lost in thought.
"Why's it so dark in here?" he asked, a bit impatient.
I turned to look at him. "Wyatt, Stella's getting married."
He stopped in his tracks, halfway through changing his shoes.
The living room was dead silent.
After a long pause, he gave a cold, bitter laugh. "What's that got to do with me?"
"If it doesn't matter, then why did you get so drunk? Why did you keep scrolling through her photos again and again?" I shot back.
I stood up and walked right up to him, all the hurt I'd been holding back finally spilling out. "Are you only with me because she happened to break up with you that day? Or is it just because I remind you of her?"
Wyatt's gaze darkened instantly.
That was always how I could tell he was angry.
"Bella, don't think you're that important." He walked right past me and straight into the bathroom.
The sound of the water was like it was mocking me for thinking I mattered.
That was the first time we gave each other the silent treatment.
Wyatt was way more stubborn than I ever imagined. He didn't text, didn't call, and even when we crossed paths on campus, he completely ignored me, like I was just a ghost.
I managed to hold out for a month, but in the end, I was the one who swallowed my pride and gave in first.
I sent him a text: [I'm sick.]
Not even ten minutes later, he showed up downstairs at my dorm.
He looked annoyed, but in the end, he still reached out and checked my forehead.
"Did the fever mess up your head?" he asked.
I clung to his sleeve, tears streaming down my face.
"Wyatt, don't shut me out," I said.
He let out a sigh and wrapped me in his arms.
"Bella, you're so much trouble," he muttered.
Just like that, we were back together.
It was like swallowing poison wrapped in sugar.