FATAL TROUBLE (REVERSE HAREM)

Part 72

BLOCKED.

Both from your phone and chats, and also from your mind.

Even if you did erase them from every possible memory it your fingers hovered over the delete button of the photos section.

The smiles, the laughs, their faces and their voices making your heart ache. You bit your lips to prevent the flood in your eyes to burst.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, some things couldn't be truly erased. Like phantom pains, they lingered—not in your phone or in your chats, but in the quiet moments, the stillness when your mind wandered.

You deleted every picture, every message, every trace of their existence from your digital world. But you couldn't delete the way their laughter echoed in your memories. Or how their voice could light up your darkest hours. Each time you thought of them, your chest tightened, a bittersweet ache blooming within you.

You bit down harder on your lip, as if the sharp sting would drown out the storm rising inside. But it didn't. It only made you realize something: no matter how many times you tried to block them out, they were already a part of you—woven into the fabric of who you are.

You clutched your phone tighter, staring at the blank screen, your reflection staring back. Maybe it wasn't about erasing them. Maybe it was about learning how to live with the void they left behind.

You stared at the screen, your mind a haze of numbness, the weight of the past few days still pressing down on your chest. And then, your phone buzzed—breaking the silence. A notification.

Your results were out.

Your heart leapt, a sharp contrast to the emptiness you'd been feeling. Hands trembling, you opened the message. And there it was—confirmation of your success. You'd done it. You'd achieved the marks you'd worked so hard for, the ones you'd spent countless sleepless nights chasing.

For a moment, the ache in your heart eased, replaced by a flicker of pride and relief. Maybe they were just a distraction. A beautiful, fleeting distraction that had once filled your days with warmth but had also clouded your focus.

Now, as you sat there, a new clarity began to settle over you. This was your life—your career, your family, your dreams. These were the things that truly mattered, the things that would be with you when all else faded. You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself in the realization.

It hurt, yes. But maybe letting them go wasn't just an act of loss—it was also an act of choosing yourself, of prioritizing what you needed to move forward. They were a chapter, but this? This was your story. And you were ready to write it.

.

.

.

It had been two days since you received the news of your results, and life had started to feel a little lighter. That evening, you were curled up on the couch in the living room with your parents. The faint aroma of your mom's freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, mixing with the warmth of laughter as your dad shared one of his classic stories.

The sound of the doorbell broke the cozy moment. You got up to answer it, and there she was—Hanni, your best friend, with her bright smile and energy that could light up a room.

"I couldn't stay away, Ellaaaaa" she declared, stepping in with a bag of snacks. "I had to come celebrate your results!"

The four of you gathered in the living room, chatting and laughing. Your mom was playfully teasing you about your childhood quirks, and Hanni added her share of embarrassing stories, making your dad chuckle. The evening was a comforting blend of love, warmth, and connection.