College Days [Elizabeth Olsen]

Part 35

The air crackled with unspoken words. Lizzie's tear-streaked face mirrored the turmoil swirling inside me. My phone buzzed, a cruel reminder of the tangled web I was caught in. It was Cara. My gaze flickered between the screen and Lizzie, the weight of the decision suffocating.

"Look," I began, my voice rough, "This isn't about who's right or wrong. It's about..." I trailed off, unable to voice the fractured mess that was my heart.

Lizzie reached for my hand, desperation a palpable force between us. "Ingrid, please," she pleaded. "We can work through this. Don't throw everything away."

My hand remained frozen in mid-air. Her words, once a melody that soothed my soul, now resonated with hollowness. Before I could respond, a jarring melody pierced the tense silence – Lizzie's phone. It was Robbie.

A flicker of defiance ignited in her eyes as she answered. "Robbie, it's over. For good this time." She hung up with a finality that surprised even me. My heart, battered but clinging to hope, began to mend a tiny fraction.

Suddenly, the door to the pub burst open, shattering the fragile peace. Cara stood there, her face a mask of pale determination. "Ingrid," she said, her voice strained, "There's something you need to see."

She pulled out her phone, and dread coiled in my gut. It was a video. The scene: backstage at the club, the night our world imploded. Lizzie stood there, talking intimately with Robbie. But this was no friendly conversation. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.

The video ended abruptly. The world spun, the familiar warmth of the pub replaced by a chilling emptiness. Lizzie's face crumpled, disbelief etched on her features. Cara remained grim, but a flicker of something else danced in her eyes – triumph?

Fury, cold and potent, bubbled up inside me. How could Lizzie? The girl I'd entrusted my heart to, the one I envisioned a future with, had betrayed me so deeply. Hot tears pricked my eyes, blurring the image of Cara's smug face.

"What is this?" I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lizzie shook her head, her denial shaky at best. "It's not what it looks like, Ingrid. Please, believe me."

The memory of countless let-downs, unanswered calls, and stolen glances at Robbie resurfaced, each one a shard of doubt piercing my chest. Denial wasn't an option anymore.

"How long?" My voice was a broken whisper, the words laced with a bitterness I didn't recognize.

Lizzie's eyes welled up again. "It was a mistake, Ingrid. Just a moment of weakness."

But the damage was done. The foundation of trust, painstakingly built over months, had crumbled in a heartbeat. Could I ever forgive her? Could I rebuild what had been shattered so carelessly?

Cara, watching our exchange with a chilling intensity, finally spoke. "It wasn't just a mistake, Ingrid. This has been going on for a while."

My head snapped towards her, fury replacing the despair. "What are you talking about?"

She held my gaze, the smugness replaced by something akin to pity. "I saw them together before Christmas, Ingrid. That's why Robbie called her that night. They've been seeing each other on and off since she got back."

My mind reeled. The photo, Robbie's call, Lizzie's erratic behavior – it all fit into a sickeningly clear picture.

Lizzie sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Ingrid, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me."

But forgiveness felt like a distant mirage. The girl I loved, the girl I'd built a future with, was a stranger shrouded in deceit.

A million questions swirled in my head. Why Robbie? Was our entire relationship a lie? Had she ever truly loved me?