My Boyfriend Faked His Death, So I Married Someone Else Chapter 02

“Explanation for what?” Carter looked confused.

I stared at him, word by word. “The day the SATS ended. Your car accident. Everyone said you were dead.”

“Oh, that.” His tone was careless. “Kendra and I were just messing around. You wanted to break up, remember? So I thought I’d play a joke, see how you’d react.”

“But then I went abroad with my family for a few months. Never got around to explaining. Sorry about that.”

I couldn’t believe it.

Five years of cyberbullying. Anxiety so bad I tried to kill myself. Multiple times.

At the college I’d worked so hard to get into, the advisor called me into her office with an apologetic face and handed me a withdrawal form.

“Avery, given your mental health and the negative attention on the school…”

A nightmare that lasted five years. It almost destroyed my life. And it was just some random joke to Carter Wells.

Rage flooded through me. My whole body shook.

Carter frowned. “It’s been years. Why are you still hung up on this?”

“I wanted to explain after I got back, but I couldn’t reach you.”

I said nothing.

Because by then, I’d changed every single way to contact me.

The internet said I was evil and selfish. I’d killed a promising young genius just for a cake.

People who didn’t even know Carter still went to war for him.

My photos and info were everywhere. Strangers recognized me on the street. I kept getting dead rats with maggots and blood-stained clothes in the mail. Every time I opened my phone, there were death threats and insults.

I couldn’t sleep. Lost almost twenty pounds in two weeks.

To avoid being recognized, I changed my hair and style. Stopped caring about how I looked.

I chopped off my long, well-maintained hair. It got frizzy. My skin started showing fine lines. I wore baggy, ugly clothes. Looked ten years older.

Carter asked casually, “I heard you even got interviewed by reporters?”

He laughed. “You should thank me. I gave you your fifteen minutes of fame.”

I looked down. The cold rubber gloves hid the layered scars on my wrists.

Old wounds that clung to me like bone. Aching every single day.

The water from the fish tank was so cold.

For a second, I almost thought my slit wrists were bleeding again.

“You know what, Carter? Because of that whole thing, people have been coming at me nonstop ever since.”

My voice was steady.

Carter snorted. “You’re way too fragile. It’s just words on a screen. What’re they gonna do to you?”

I flinched, just barely.