Chapter Fifty Seven

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Halos!

So happy we've reached 100 votes on Chap. One. Next aim,

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥150 VOTES🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Keep telling people. A lot of new people started reading Crimson recently and it's really encouraging💞💞💞

Lastly, let's get to 10k reads soon😌😌

Tag those who may enjoy this book or anyone! Tell them, your friends and family, to check it out. Trust me, it goes a long way!

Anyhoo, I don't want to bore you guys out so let's meuve🙃🙃🙃🙃........

Abim's picture above💞💨

~°MATTHEW'S POV°~
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The last fucking thing I would've done in this world was going to that shitty hall set up back there. They could've done better. It's Chantelle we're talking about here -- Not any random person, Chantelle.

And to think I actually said those words in front of those people. I sounded like a total idiot and honestly, going home would be the better option for me. Right now, the last place I'd like to be is between people which sucks, because that's exactly where I am.

No one's talking. It's just raining heavily, people moody on their seats. I see Israel over my shoulder, painting a doodle at the edge of his table with much enthusiasm. He looks up at me without a word, and carries on like we weren't talking. It doesn't bother me, though. No one's said a word.

Noah sits and faces the window, staring at the crystal clear drops of rain which beats the zinc to a much disturbing noise. He looks lost like everyone else, and just adjusts his shirt a couple of times. I avert my gaze when someone walks through the door and points at me.

Apparently, it's Mr. Nicholas again and he signals me to come. I stand up, reluctantly, and follow behind him to his office. It's even more cold, with the air conditioning turned on and a bottle of coke resting on a table beside a takeaway plate I can't clearly see contents of.

Miss Betty sits opposite his seat, typing away in a white laptop and Mr. Nicholas gives me a chair, which I sit on immediately. He sits also and clears the food from his table, turning to me with much interest.

"I heard,"

I don't reply. Not because I don't want to, which I clearly don't, but because I have nothing to say.

"About you and Chantelle,"

Again with the talks.

"I'm not depressed,"

"Never said you were," he shakes his head.

"Touché," I reply and rest backwards on the chair once again, my fingers slowly tapping the table in rhythm and my legs shaking deliberately. It's really cold out here because for one, the windows are pretty much still open in the rain, and with the air conditioning too.

"Matthew, you guys were close, I understand. Dated, I still understand, and loved each other as you assume," he says and I look up.

"I don't assume things. Facts!" I state and look away immediately. "We had a thing for the longest time, until she saw..."

"Nudes in your phone and went mad about it. You guys broke up and - "

"Can I finish?" I ask, annoyed.

"Go on," he nods and I sigh.

"We recently knew about her condition and decided to raise money for her own good but - she took her life," I say and force the tears back into my eyes.

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