Chapter 5: The One You Can’t Save

In June, Natalie finished her national tour and returned to Silver Hollow with Caleb. That day, the street near the hospital was packed—it was the only way home for Natalie.

The air shimmered with summer heat. Banners fluttered from lampposts, and fans lined the sidewalk, waving posters and homemade signs. Even the local news vans were parked curbside, desperate for a soundbite.

She sat in her black Escalade, kissing Caleb passionately. Flashbulbs popped at the celebrity couple, and the livestream crashed the platform multiple times. Comments flooded in by the tens of thousands per second. Their fans were so excited they could barely contain themselves.

The car was a bubble of fame—security glass up, the rest of the world kept at bay. On the outside, their love looked flawless; inside, it was all smoke and mirrors.

"Natalie × Caleb, together forever..."

"My girl finally caught her dream guy, the one who saved her."

"Ahhhh, please, just get married already..."

Emoji hearts and rocket icons streamed by on the screens. Natalie flashed her practiced smile, soaking up the attention. Caleb winked at the cameras, always playing the part.

A reporter squeezed through the crowd, asking, "Are you living with Mr. Caleb? Can we follow you home for an interview?"

He shoved a mic in her face, hoping for a scoop. The crowd surged, cell phones waving overhead.

Normally, such a rude request would be refused. But as the former mean girl, Natalie was obsessed with Caleb. She’d seize any chance to tie their names together. So, Natalie answered without hesitation, "Yes."

The PR team in the front seat exchanged nervous glances, but Natalie was already texting someone on her phone. Anything for the story, anything to keep her name trending.

But then she remembered her home was a disaster. On the master bedroom floor still lay the shattered photo of her and Derek. So, she called Derek.

Her hand trembled just a little. Old habits die hard. She still expected him to pick up, to save her one more time.

I answered.

My voice came out flat. My hands were numb, fingers locked around the steering wheel of the hearse.

"Derek, where are you?"

She sounded impatient, already stressed by the press of bodies and the heat. I let the silence stretch, let her sweat.

I stared at her from a distance, clinging to Caleb, and said nothing. Derek’s emaciated body lay on a stretcher in the back seat of my car.

The world blurred, the noise of the crowd fading to a dull roar. Grief was a weight on my chest, heavier than any heartbreak.

Natalie’s tone grew impatient. "I don’t care where you are, go home now and erase all traces that you ever existed."

Her words were a dagger, the final cut. She didn’t even know he was already gone.

"Natalie, look back."

My voice broke, quiet but clear. The crowd seemed to hold its breath.

She heard my voice and froze. Instinctively, she turned and, through the crowd, saw me sitting in the hearse’s passenger seat.

For a second, her bravado cracked. The sight of me in the hearse, the truth hitting all at once, sucked the air from her lungs.

I said, "Derek had pancreatic cancer. He just passed away. While you were kissing Caleb in the car, his body passed right by you."

I watched her face crumble, the mask slipping away. The crowd pressed in, oblivious, their cheers turning hollow.

Natalie didn’t react for a while. She just held the phone, staring at me across the distance. The crowd surged around us. No matter how the reporters and Caleb pressed her, Natalie didn’t answer.

She looked lost, a marionette with cut strings. The world spun on, but she was stuck, frozen in a moment she’d never undo.

Then, everything seemed to slow down. In front of all the media, Natalie suddenly burst out of the SUV, desperately pushing through the crowd, running toward me. Her face was pale, as if she was crying and shouting, but it was too noisy—I couldn’t hear.

She dropped her heels in the scramble, knees buckling as she reached the hearse. Her mouth formed words I couldn’t make out. All that power, all that fame, and none of it could save her now.

I tossed Derek’s ring out the window and told the driver to go. Watching Natalie kneeling on the ground, I remembered Derek’s last words—they were right. People are always haunted by what they couldn’t have in their youth. The one you can’t get—Caleb is, but so is Derek.

The ring bounced once on the pavement, glinting in the sun before rolling into the gutter. I closed my eyes, letting the memory of my friend settle over me like a shroud.