Backup Girl No More: Adios to my V-card and My First Love (Brooklyn) novel Chapter 53

Chapter 13 

The air was filled with the soft cooing of pigeons, their wings fluttering against the bright blue sky. Children’s laughter rang through the square, pure and unburdened, a stark contrast to the silence stretching between us. 

For a long time, I didn’t speak. Then, finally, I turned to Atlas. 

“You don’t deserve to stay by my side, Atlas,” I said. “Nothing you have belongs to me. It belongs to 

Ivy. Wasn’t that what you intended all along?” 

His face stiffened, but I didn’t stop. 

“I’ve spent years living in the illusion you created, believing every lie you fed me,” I continued, my words as steady as my heartbeat. “Do you have any idea how much I hated myself when I finally 

saw the truth?” 

His fingers twitched slightly, his entire body unmoving. 

I let out a slow breath, my expression unreadable. “I hated myself for loving you.” 

I let the words sink in, let them twist through the air like a blade cutting deep. “I hated myself for loving the man who destroyed everything I had.” 

Atlas flinched, barely perceptible, but I caught it. 

And just like that, the last remnants of anger drained from my body. I looked at the face I had known for twenty years. The man who had shared my bed for five. 

And suddenly–there was no more hatred left in me. 

Perhaps, in every life, there was a person meant to wound you so deeply that you’d never be the 

same again. 

I rose to my feet, gazing down at him. A soft, detached smile curved my lips, but it never reached my 

eyes. 

“Atlas,” I said, my voice light, almost gentle. “I will never forgive you.” 

The summer sun beat down on us, but he looked frozen. 

I watched as his lips parted slightly, then curled into something almost pitiful. “Celeste,” he 

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Backup Girl No More: Adios To My V–Card and My First Love 

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Chapter 13 

whispered, “but I love you. I really, truly love you.” 

His voice was so quiet, carried away by the wind before it ever reached me. 

I lifted my camera, turning away from him, capturing the smiles of strangers–the joy of those who had never known the kind of pain I had endured. 

In the corner of my frame, there was only one figure hunched over on a bench, his face buried in his hands. The only one who didn’t belong. 

“Sis, will you take a picture for us?” A small, excited voice tugged at my sleeve. 

I turned to see a boy, no older than five, clutching a flower crown while his sister giggled beside him, reaching up to place it on his head. 

A genuine smile broke across my lips for the first time in a long while.