The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 473

Liora’s POV

The first day after the breakup, I didn’t leave my room.

Mia brought me food that I didn’t eat. She tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t really talk back. I mostly just laid there on my bed, pathetic and miserable, staring at the ceiling as I replayed the conversation over and over again in my mind.

The second day wasn’t much better. I dragged myself to class, but I didn’t absorb a single word any of my professors said. I sat in the back, hood pulled up, and counted down the minutes until I could leave again.

By the third day, I had stopped sleeping entirely. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Callum’s face. The way he’d looked at me before he walked away. Like I’d broken something inside of him that couldn’t be fixed.

Maybe I had.

I kept waiting for the pain to fade, for it to get easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it got worse.

Because, deep down, I knew it was my fault. I had made the choice. I had suggested the fake breakup, and he had turned it into a real one. And now I had to live with that.

On the fifth day, Amy convinced me to come to the dining hall.

“You can’t hide forever,” she said, standing in my doorway with her arms crossed. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to eat. Real food, not whatever crap Mia’s been sneaking you from the vending machines.”

I wanted to argue, but honestly, I really didn’t have the energy. Amy was probably right, anyway; I wouldn’t be able to do shit about Bianca if I was starving. So I dragged myself out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and followed her downstairs.

The dining hall was packed. I kept my head down as Amy and I grabbed trays and moved through the line. I wasn’t actually hungry, but I loaded up my plate anyway just to get Amy off my back. Eggs. Toast. An apple. A rather large cup of coffee.

I looked up and saw Bianca standing there, flanked by two of her cronies—one of whom, of course, was Daisy. Bianca was wearing a pristine white blouse and a skirt that I was pretty sure came from my closet back at the palace, and her hair was pulled back in a perfect ponytail. The tiara still sat on her head. She’d made a point of wearing it every day even though we were at school.

“Well, well,” she said, her lips curving. “Look who finally decided to show her face.”

I kept poking at my food. “Go away, Bianca.”

“Or what?” She leaned closer, resting her hands on the edge of the table. “You’ll have your boyfriend come to your rescue? Oh, wait. That’s right. You don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do you?”

My jaw clenched.

“I heard you two broke up,” she went on. Her voice was sweet, almost sympathetic, but her eyes were cold. “That’s such a shame. You seemed so happy together. Well. As happy as you could be, considering you were never going to marry him anyway.”