The Only Exception

Old Patterns

Billie's POV

My journey home was a blur of exhaustion and restless anticipation, the hours on the plane feeling like a slow-motion torment. The moment the wheels hit the tarmac, my phone was in my hand, my thumb flying across the screen with a breathless urgency. 

The text I sent to Stella was a clumsy jumble of "I'm here," "I love you," and "I can't wait to see you." I pictured her reading it, a smile spreading across her face. My heart, a frantic hummingbird in my chest, was already at our front door.

But there was no reply.

Not a single one.

I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail, the sound of her pre-recorded voice echoing in the dead silence of the terminal. 

A small, cold knot of worry tightened in my stomach. I tried to reason with it, telling myself she was probably busy with work, or had fallen asleep. But the silence from her end felt heavy and wrong, like a missing piece of a puzzle I didn't want to solve.

I got home to an empty house, the silence loud and oppressive. The scent of coffee and pancakes, cold and untouched on the kitchen counter, was a ghost of the perfect morning we were supposed to have. I stared at the plate, the syrup a congealed mess, and the knot in my stomach twisted into a lead weight. I was about to try calling her again when my phone buzzed, the name Mandy lighting up the screen.

"Billie," Mandy's voice was a frantic whisper, laced with pure fear. "Listen, you need to come here now. I haven't seen her like this in a long time." My heart pounded against my ribs, a chaotic drumbeat.

"What's going on? Is she okay? What happened?" I asked, a cold dread filling my voice.

"It's Stella. She saw a picture of you and Harper. She thinks you're cheating on her. She's completely wasted, Bill," Mandy said, her voice strained. "She's not listening to me. She's going to get herself into serious trouble."

Not needing to hear another word, I grabbed my keys. I scribbled down the address Mandy gave me, my hand shaking so hard the pen dug into the paper. I was out the door in seconds, a cold, desperate dread settling over me.

The drive was a frantic, blurring race against the blinding traffic lights. The world outside the car felt like a fever dream. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my mind a chaotic storm. 

I replayed the night in my head a hundred times, trying to construct the perfect defense, the flawless explanation. I saw Harper, her hand in mine as we danced, her laughter echoing in the club. I had to make Stella understand it was innocent, that it was nothing, at least not from my side. 

I knew how her mind worked, how it would twist and turn, scarred by a past she was just starting to heal from. 

But ow do you un-break a heart that's already fractured? 

 I just had to get there, had to see her face, had to make it right.

The party was a scene straight out of a horror movie. Bodies gyrated in the dim, pulsing light, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. A bass beat pulsed through the floor, a physical assault on my senses. I pushed my way through the throngs of people, my eyes scanning the crowd, searching for Stella's vibrant hair. My heart was a frantic drumbeat in my chest. I finally found Mandy by the bar, a frantic look on her face.

"Billie, thank god," she gasped, her voice barely audible over the music. "I lost her while talking to you on the phone. She just... disappeared."

We searched, our eyes darting through the crowd, until we reached a hallway with a series of doors. 

I, a horrible premonition building in my gut, pushed open the last door. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of a phone screen and the moonlight filtering through the window. The air in my lungs turned to ice, and my breath hitched.

There, in the middle of the room, was Stella. 

And a girl. 

They were tangled together on the floor, a whirlwind of clothes and limbs. The girl's hand was on Stella's bare leg, and Stella's head was thrown back, a low moan escaping her lips. The world, which had been a dizzying rush of urgency and fear, suddenly went still. My body was frozen, a spectator to my own nightmare.

Stella's eyes, unfocused and glazed over, fluttered open. 

They landed on me, standing in the doorway, my face pale, my expression a mix of shock and utter devastation. For a single, agonizing moment, there was just silence.

Then, Stella, her voice slurred and bitter with the alcohol sneered "Oh look... Miss Billie Eilish herself! Are you done fucking your little toy?"

In that moment, I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

I couldn't breathe. 

I could only stare at her, sprawled on the other girl's lap, her eyeliner smudged, wearing nothing but her underwear.

Without another word, I turned and walked away, the noise of the party fading into a distant, mocking hum. 

The door to the hallway closed behind me with a definitive click. I walked out of the house, out of the party, out of the chaos.

I just got in my car and drove, my vision blurred by tears that traced a hot path down my cold cheeks.