A/n This Chapter will be now in Conrad's POV an understanding why he is the way he is I think it's been since yesterday since I updated
But I do hope you guys like this fanfic the chapter will be longer than the other chapters let me know if I should do A Staylor Fanfic as well
I was also thinking of doing a Rafia Fanfic (Rafe and Sofia) one since I don't think anyone has done one So I could be the first for that
I didn't want to think about Belly right now
But I couldn't stop myself
I'd known her my whole life
She was the girl I grew up with, the girl who was always there, even when things weren't great between us
But that was before
Before everything came crashing down
She wasn't my first love that would've been too simple
No, with Belly, it had always been this slow burn, something that had started when we were kids and just grew over time, piece by piece, until one day, it was just... there
Unspoken, but undeniable
I hadn't meant to push her away
I didn't want to
But I couldn't help it
The day I ended things
When I finally told her I couldn't do this anymore was the hardest thing I'd ever done
We had been happy
I had been happy, and then suddenly, it all felt like too much
Too much to feel, too much to carry, too much to give
And it wasn't her fault
It wasn't Belly's fault that my world was falling apart
But in the chaos of it all, I couldn't see a way to let her in
I couldn't tell her the truth
Not about my mom being sick
Not about how I was watching my parents' marriage slowly decay, piece by piece
And certainly not about how my dad had betrayed my mom
That had broken me in a way I couldn't even begin to explain
But I knew one thing: I couldn't let Belly in
I couldn't ask her to carry that with me
I loved her too much to make her carry my burden
So, I did the only thing I knew how to do so I pushed her away
I broke her heart
I didn't tell her why
I didn't tell anyone
Because the truth was, I didn't know how to explain any of it without shattering everything — including myself
I didn't tell her about my mom's cancer
I didn't tell her about the nights I'd sit in my car, staring at the ocean, wondering if I could just drive away from everything away from the weight of my family's pain, away from the lies, away from the secrets that were eating me alive
I just let her go
And now, a year later, here she was again
Standing in front of me like no time had passed at all, looking just as beautiful as I remembered
I could feel it that ache in my chest, the one that always came when I saw her
But now it was different
It was sharper, more painful, because I knew I didn't deserve her
She deserved better than me
And I hated myself for doing that to her
But when I saw her smile at my dad earlier, I couldn't help but feel this wave of frustration
She didn't know the truth
She didn't know what I was going through, what I was carrying
I watched her and felt like a stranger
Like I couldn't be the guy she needed me to be
I was sitting by the kitchen table, peeling back the skin from an ear of corn, the rhythmic motions doing little to distract me from the heaviness in my chest
I hated how quiet it was
How every second felt like it dragged on, making the silence louder and louder
It didn't help that my thoughts were a storm, swirling with everything I couldn't say
When the door creaked open, I didn't look up at first
I was too caught up in my own head
But I didn't need to see who it was to know
"Connie," Laurel's voice floated to me softly, her tone warm like always
I glanced up, a small, tired smile pulling at the corners of my lips. "Hey, Laurel."
She didn't hesitate, walking over and sitting down next to me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence
Laurel had always been a second mother to me
She understood things in ways that no one else could, and when things got too much to bear, sometimes she was the only person I felt like I could talk to
"You've always been my special guy, you know that?" she said gently, her eyes kind but sharp, like she could see right through me
I swallowed, looking down at the corn again, trying to avoid her gaze
I didn't want to be vulnerable
Not now, not with everything weighing down on me
But Laurel wasn't the type to let things slide
Not when she could tell something was off
She nudged me softly, her hand resting on mine "What's going on, Conrad? You seem bothered."
I felt a sigh catch in my chest, and for a moment, I wished I could just let it all out all the pain, all the frustration
But I couldn't
"I'm fine," I said, the words leaving my mouth too quickly, too flat to be believable
Laurel raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second "You don't seem fine." She gave me a moment, her gaze softening "If you're not ready to tell me, that's okay I'm not going to push you But I want you to know something."
I kept my eyes trained on the corn, trying to focus on anything other than her words, but they stuck with me, lingering like a weight
"You don't have to carry it all to yourself," Laurel continued, her voice like a balm on the raw, exposed edges of my heart "It's okay to ask for help sometimes It's what helps get through things... talking it out."
I looked at her then, seeing the concern etched across her face, the same concern she'd always shown me whenever I was struggling
And for a split second, I thought about telling her
I thought about letting her in on the things I'd kept buried deep down
But no words came out
I wanted to, but I couldn't
Not yet
Instead, I just nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat "I'll be okay, Laurel I promise."
But even as I said the words, I wasn't sure if I believed them
I wasn't sure if I could be okay
I barely had a second to breathe after Laurel left when I heard his voice
"Connie, my boy!"
The smile on my dad's face made something twist in my gut
It used to be a comfort but hearing him call me that, seeing him so full of pride but now, it just made me feel sick
I didn't even look up right away
Just wiped my hands on a napkin, slow, steady
"Hey," I muttered, finally glancing his way
He clapped a hand on my shoulder like everything was fine
Like things were still the way they used to be
But they weren't
Not even close
"I've been looking all over for you," he said, still smiling"How've you been, huh? You still playing ball?"
I didn't answer
He blinked "Wait... you're still on the team, right? Captain again?"
I looked him dead in the eye"I quit."
The smile faltered "What?"
"I quit football," I said flatly
The words hit the air like a grenade, silencing the porch
Laurel had walked out again, standing off to the side
And I hadn't even noticed Belly and Steven nearby until they turned toward me, eyes wide
Sunnah gasped softly"Wait... you quit football?"
Steven stared at me "Seriously?"
I didn't answer
I didn't have to
My dad blinked, completely thrown "But—Conrad You love football I mean, we—" He forced a laugh "You remember? We'd play catch in the backyard until it got dark out You loved that game."
I stared at him "Things change."
His smile slipped completely now
I could see it the confusion, the frustration, the disbelief
But the thing that got to me the most? He didn't know
He had no clue that I found out
About him cheating
About him walking out on Mom when she was in the middle of fighting for her life
He didn't know I'd heard them fighting one night, voices raised, Mom's voice breaking
Didn't know I sat in my car outside the house, fists clenched on the steering wheel, while he accused her of turning cold and distant during chemo
Like it was her fault
And I didn't tell him
Because what was the point? What good would it do?
So I kept my voice flat, my hands tucked in my pockets like it didn't matter
Like it wasn't still tearing me apart
"Why?" he asked, trying to laugh it off "Was it grades? Pressure? What's going on, son?"
I shook my head "You wouldn't get it."
I felt everyone watching me
Belly especially
I could feel her eyes on me like she was trying to read between the lines, like she knew something was off like she always did
But I didn't look at her
I couldn't
"Come on, Connie," my dad said again, voice a little more firm now, like he was trying to reel me back in "Talk to me."
But I wasn't that kid anymore
I wasn't the boy who used to run across the field with a ball in his hand and his dad's voice echoing in his ears
That version of me didn't exist anymore
"I've got nothing to say," I said
And with that, I walked off the porch, needing air, space with anything to stop the fire from swallowing me whole
TO BE CONTINUED...........