- Elizabeth -
Hayle Sinclair stood there, effortlessly beautiful as always, her blonde hair cascading in perfect waves over one shoulder. Her smile was wide, innocent even, as she leaned slightly to look at Zayn's photo on my phone. A gush of bitter memories swept over me, bringing with it a tide of anger that bubbled just beneath the surface. My heart raced—was it fear or anger that made it thrum so loudly in my ears? That's when I felt it—a chilling familiarity that caused the hairs on my neck to stand up. I came face-to-face with a ghost from my past.
"Wow, good ol' Babette still looks the same," she chirped, a sing-song quality to her voice that made my skin crawl, mainly when she used that damn nickname I detest. It sent a tremor through me—how could she act as if everything between
