The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 152

The next morning, | woke up with a sense of dread that had become all too familiar. The events of the past few days had left me feeling tangled and confused. With a sigh, | got out of bed, determined to face the day ahead.

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As | made my way to the kitchen, | noticed Aria absorbed in conversation on her phone, her laughter and giggles floating through the air. She had a new boyfriend, and it seemed like they were in the throes of a honeymoon phase. | couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at the ease with which she had moved on, while | remained entangled in my own emotional turmoil.

| approached her tentatively, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Aria, can | check the mail today?”Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

She held up a finger, signaling for me to wait, before turning her attention back to her call. It was clear that her conversation was more important to her than my

request.

| tried to hide my irritation, offering a forced smile before walking away. The mailbox was just a short distance from our apartment, but the walk felt longer than usual. | couldn’t shake the feeling that | was trapped in a cycle of frustration and disappointment.

As | reached the mailboxes, | hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the slot. | wasn’t expecting anything in particular, but the mundane task of checking the mail offered a temporary distraction from the chaos of my emotions.

Just as | was about to insert my key into the mailbox, a voice from behind me sent a shiver down my spine. “Evie.”

| froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and slowly turned around to face the one person | had been trying to avoid—Timothy. He stood there, his expression tense, his phone clenched in his hand.

| swallowed hard, struggling to find my voice. “Timothy.”

He had been in the midst of a heated conversation with Stella on the phone, and his frustration was palpable. The tension in the air was suffocating, and | couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in his world.

Timothy hung up the phone abruptly, his gaze never leaving mine. “What are you 4/4

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doing here?”

I clenched my fists, my frustration boiling over. “I live here, Timothy. Just like you.”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. | didn’t mean it like that, Evie. | just...l’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

| couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into my words. “Yeah, | can see that.”

The silence that followed was suffused with tension, our unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. | wanted to walk away, to put some distance between us, but | couldn't bring myself to move.

Timothy finally broke the silence, his voice weary. “Can we start over? I...| don’t want things to be like this between us. We were friends once.”

“Yeah,” | said softly, meeting his eyes. “Hi, Timothy.” He nodded in acknowledgment, offering a warm smile. “Hi, Evie.”

Right then, | couldn't help but notice that he wasn’t wearing his engagement ring, the absence of it like a glaring omission in our conversation. | wondered if it was a deliberate choice or if there was a deeper meaning behind it.

Before | could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “You're not wearing your ring.” Timothy's response was immediate, his words laced with a touch of defensiveness. “It’s for public appearances.”

| nodded, though | couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness at his explanation. It thought his relationship with Stella had been genuine, if not a bit rocky. Here het was dismissing it as if it were merely a business contract and nothing deeper.

He continued, his voice softening. I’m doing this for the child, Evie. | want the kid to have a good life, with both parents there for support.”

| swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside me. His words seemed to carry a hidden meaning, as if the stability extended to him as well.

| tried to keep my demeanor cool, to maintain a fagade of composure, but the urge to confide in Timothy about Stella and Andy gnawed at me. | had already tried to warn him once before, with the Erickson situation, and he hadn't believed me

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then. | feared he wouldn't take my word for it this time either.

| nodded in response to his words, my voice steady as | replied, “That’s really noble. of you.” He smiled, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “I suppose. Thank you.”

| nodded and turned to leave, though it felt like we each had more to say. As | walked away, clutching the package | had retrieved from the mailbox, | couldn’t escape the feeling that our encounter had only scratched the surface of what | may not have known.

Back in the solitude of my apartment, | let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Seeing Timothy again had left me feeling raw and exposed.

As | walked into the living room, my eyes dropped to the package in my hands. Its presence was unexpected, as | hadn’t been anticipating any deliveries. | also noticed the absence of a return address, but against my better judgment, | decided to open it.

Tearing open the package, | couldn’t have prepared myself for the grotesque contents that spilled out onto the floor. A dead rat lay before me, its lifeless body weathered and rotted. A note was attached to its leg, the words “Go back to the

gutter and leave TELLA alone! XO” scrawled in jagged handwriting. The message sent a chill down my spine, and | gagged once the smell of decomposed flesh hit me. Only a depraved person

would go to this length, sending a dead animal's body for the sake of two people who likely didn’t know of their existence.

For a moment, | wondered if this was the work of Bruce, but then, the “XO” on the message caught my attention, and a different, equally disturbing, possibility surfaced. This might be the work of one of Timothy’s deranged fans, individuals. who had turned their obsession into a campaign of harassment and intimidation.

Disgusted and horrified, | knew | had to get rid of it all. | wrapped the dead rat and the note in a plastic bag, my hands trembling with revulsion. With the bag clenched tightly in my hand, | made my way to the apartment building’s dumpster.

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The night was quiet, and a chill hung in the air. As | tossed the bag into the dumpster, | shivered with disgust.

It struck me that the hardcore fans who had been relentless in shaming and harassing me had gone relatively quiet, outside of this. Perhaps they had been distracted by the flurry of wedding and baby announcements from Stella and Timothy, or maybe they had grown tired of their campaign against me.

The uncertainty of the situation left me feeling more

neasy, however. It was as if | were caught in a dangerous game with ever-shifting rules. | was working around powerful people with a world of influence backing them up.

To them, | was the bug waiting to get stomped on. In that regard, Scarlett was right. If | wanted to survive, | was going to have to become an active player.