I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Emery’s POV

The white ceiling.

God, it was starting to feel like my emotional support ceiling at this point.

How long had I been laid here, just staring?

An hour.

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Two.

Maybe three days. Who even knew anymore? All I knew was the lock kept ticking, and the 18th was getting closer…louder.

I reached for the calendar on my nightstand, the one with 18 circled in bright, aggressive red ink. Wedding day.

I sighed, tossed it back, and flopped onto my back with a grunt. Back to staring at my emotional support ceiling. Again.

I hadn’t seen Dad. Or Daisy…more like I didn’t let them see me….maybe it’s because a part of me was angry…at what? I don’t know…did I have the right to me angry…again I don’t have the answer to that.

Atlas on the other hand…he was amazing, he checked up on me very second, tried his best to make me laugh( even though I know I barely cracked a smile and must have made him feel more sad..) He brought food, but I barely touched it until the dizzy spells made it clear my body was waving a white flag. Even then, I only forced a few bites down. At night, Atlas would sneak into my room and hold me until I could fall asleep, his warmth the only thing anchoring me to the ground.

Eloping was risky…stupid, maybe. But I was ready.

Ready to run. Ready to love.

Scared as hell, sure… but more than anything, I was excited. Genuinely, terrifyingly, excited for what came next.

And then-

My door burst open like some kind of intervention tornado, and in walked Laila with the energy of a thousand Red Bulls.

“Okay, enough moping! Time to party!”

I didn’t even flinch. Just blinked slowly, still staring up at the ceiling like it had all the answer

“Come on, Em…” she groaned. “You’ve been locked up for four days.”

“Oh, so it is four.” I let out a dry, joyless chuckle. “Cool, Just making sure I hadn’t totally lost track of time.”

Laila marched to the side of my bed and sat down, her expression softening. “Em… you’re starting to scare me.”

I finally sat up, dragging my body like it was made of cement. My hair probably looked like a crime scene. I stared at her. “Was it my dad that called you?”

She shook her head, “No. It was Atlas. He’s worried about you. We all are.” She reached for my hand, squeezing it. “Please, For the love of everything beautiful, can we just get out of this rom? Get some fresh air? Try on something not funeral-

themed?”

I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My brain said st, but her puppy eyes were getting dangerous.

And then she went full-on drama queen, batting her lashes, sticking out her bottom lip, doing the most exaggerated pout l’à

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Chapter 113

ever seen.

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“Pleccaaaseecce.”

I sighed… then smirked, just a little. “Okay.”

“YES!” she practically exploded off the bed and bolted toward my closet like it was a game show challenge.

“I’m gonna get you looking so hot, people are gonna be gossiping about you for days!” she shouted over her shoulder, already yanking hangers off racks like a woman possessed.

I chuckled and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the floor beneath my feet like it was new territory. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time I took a break from my head.

***

“I can’t believe you brought us here,” I said, the corners of my lips tugging up into a real smile-my first in days.

Laila beamed, smug as ever. “What do you take me for? I’m your BFF. I’ve got connections. Now come on, let’s go in.”

The karaoke room looked exactly the same-dim neon lights, beat-up leather couches, that weird glittery mic that probably hasn’t been sanitized since 2014. It was supposed to be closed down. Owner was thinking of selling, last I heard. I didn’t ask how Laila pulled this off, but like she said… she’s got the hookup.

“Okay, babe, so are you going backup or lead singer?”

I grabbed the mic with a smirk. “I’ll take backup.”

She gasped dramatically. “Fine. Then I’ll take the lead. A killer voice like mine shouldn’t be wasted.”

I laughed, because let’s be real, killer voice and Laila had no business being in the same sentence.

The screen lit up and the intro to our song started. Of course she picked my favorite-“Midnight Confessions” by Neon Project. God, I used to scream-sing that in the shower like I was auditioning for The Voice.

Laila sang the first line, “You called it love, but I called it running in this totally off-key, breathy falsetto that made me snort.

I picked up right after, harmonizing (terribly), and we both lost it halfway through the chorus. Singing, dancing like idiots, laughing so hard I thought my lungs would explode. After what felt like ten straight hours, and probably two songs, we collapsed onto the couch, breathless and sweating.

When we finally peeled ourselves off the furniture, we headed outside and strolled toward the lakeside restaurant with the open patio and twinkle lights.

“I’ve missed doing that,” I said, brushing my hair out of my face cheeks still warm.

“Me too, babes. Remember the first time we found that karaoke lace?”

I laughed, the memory hitting me just right. “How could I forge You’d just broken up with Justin from sixth grade and wanted to scream into the void, so we wandered into that place, ordered three milkshakes, and sang until we had no voices.”

Laila laughed so hard she almost tripped. “God, I can’t believe w drank that much milkshake!”

“I know, right I had a tummy ache for two days.”

We giggled like we were twelve again.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice softening, “I’m so glad we found that karaoke room.”

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Chapter 113

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