Chapter 16: Make Me Forget You

I didn't want love.

Not that night.

I wanted distraction.

Rebellion.

Something loud enough to drown the ghost of his voice in my head.

So I dressed like danger.

Lips painted in a red that wasn't for him anymore.

Heels that clicked like threats.

And a dress that clung to my curves like I was armor and invitation all at once.

Because if he could haunt me without touching me,

Then maybe someone else could heal me the same way.

---

The club pulsed with strangers.

Hands brushing shoulders.

Eyes lingering too long.

A blur of perfume, smoke, and secrets no one would remember by morning.

I let myself get swallowed by it.

By the beat.

By the lies I whispered to myself.

I'm okay.

He doesn't own me anymore.

I can feel something for someone else.

Then I saw him.

Not him, the chaos.

Someone new.

Golden smile.

Confident sway.

A stranger who didn't know my broken pieces—or how easy it was to cut himself on them.

Perfect.

---

He bought me a drink.

Said his name was something forgettable.

I didn't care.

We danced.

His hands were respectful.

Too respectful.

I found myself wishing he'd be rougher, edgier—something closer to what I was used to.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

I didn't want soft.

I wanted to feel something sharp.

Something real.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, breath warm against my cheek.

I hesitated.

Because for a second, I thought—

What if this helps?

What if this is what moving on feels like?

---

His apartment was clean.

Neat.

Scented like vanilla and safety.

He kissed me like I was porcelain.

Like he wanted to cherish.

But I wasn't looking to be cherished.

I was looking to be unmade.

And when he touched me—

I didn't moan.

I didn't melt.

I closed my eyes and saw the wrong face.

---

I left before the sun came up.

No goodbye.

No second glance.

Because he wasn't him.

And the worst part?

That was the only reason I couldn't stay.

---

I got home, stood in front of the mirror,

and whispered what I'd been trying to avoid:

"He still owns parts of me I never meant to give away."