Chapter 3 — Fractured Expectations

Emma

I slammed the door to my room behind me, the echo vibrating through the house. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t draw a full breath. My phone was still clutched in my hand, the screen dark now, but Jason’s text burned in my mind like it had been seared there permanently.

*“I think it’s better this way. Alyssa and I have more in common. Sorry, Em. Hope you understand.”*

Alyssa Lane. Of course. The Alyssa Lane. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect Instagram feed. The influencer everyone worshipped. And now, apparently, my boyfriend too. Well, ex-boyfriend. The thought twisted in my stomach, sharp and cold, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and began pacing in tight circles, the hem of my gold gown brushing against my ankles. My reflection caught me in the full-length mirror, and I froze.

There I was—Emma Calloway, the “golden girl.” My chestnut waves perfectly styled, makeup flawless, gown shimmering like it was spun from sunlight. But my hazel eyes, framed by brows I’d meticulously shaped, were red-rimmed, brimming with tears I couldn’t hold back.

I hated this. Hated that Jason and Alyssa had this much power over me. Hated the tears that kept falling, smudging the mascara I’d so carefully applied. I grabbed a tissue to dab at the streaks, trying to fix the damage even as more tears spilled over. Why was I still trying to look perfect when I felt so broken? Beneath the anger was something worse—a nagging whisper that maybe this was my fault. That maybe I wasn’t enough.

I sank onto the edge of my bed, careful not to wrinkle the skirt of my gown, and buried my face in my hands. The room was too quiet, the kind of silence that made every thought louder, sharper. The faint scent of magnolia perfume lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the effort I’d poured into tonight.

Why Alyssa? Why her? A memory surfaced unbidden—scrolling through her Instagram last month, seeing her post about a brand sponsorship at some glamorous rooftop party, Jason’s name buried in the comments. I’d told myself it was nothing, but now it felt like a warning I’d ignored. The comparison stung, unraveling every thread of confidence I’d stitched together over the years.

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Emma, it’s me,” Harper’s voice called from the other side.

I didn’t answer. A moment later, the door creaked open anyway, and Harper stepped in like a whirlwind, her presence filling the room. She was still in her sweats, her dark curls piled into a messy bun—a sharp contrast to my glittering misery.

“Oh, no,” she said, taking one look at me. “He’s an idiot. A complete and utter idiot.”

I let out a shaky laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t need to. You’re in a prom dress, sitting on your bed, looking like someone kicked your puppy. Obviously, Jason did something stupid. What did he do?”

I hesitated, but the words tumbled out anyway. “He dumped me. For Alyssa Lane. Via text.”

Harper’s jaw dropped. “That slimy, no-good—” She cut herself off, probably realizing my mom could hear her from down the hall. “He dumped you for her? And over text? Wow. Just… wow. I knew he peaked in sophomore year, but this is a new low.”

I smiled weakly, but it faded just as fast. “Everyone’s going to know, Harper. Everyone. They’re probably already talking about it. I can’t go to prom now. I’ll be the pathetic girl who got ditched.”

Harper crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “So? Let them talk. Who cares what they think?”

“I care!” I exploded, the words sharper than I intended. “This was supposed to be my night. I worked so hard to make everything perfect, and now it’s ruined. And everyone’s going to see that.”

Harper sat beside me on the bed, her expression softening. “Emma, listen to me. Jason doesn’t get to ruin this for you. You’ve spent your whole life making other people happy—being the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect… everything. But tonight doesn’t have to be about him or anyone else. It can be about you.”

Her words struck something deep inside me, but I shook my head. “I don’t know how to do that,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

“Sure you do,” she said. “You just need a little push. And that’s what I’m here for.”

She stood suddenly, grabbing my phone off the bed and tossing it onto my desk. “First rule of tonight: no more staring at stupid texts from stupid boys. Second rule: you’re going to prom. Solo. And you’re going to own it.”

I blinked at her. “You want me to go alone? Are you serious? Harper, I’ll look like an idiot.”

“No, you won’t,” she said firmly. “You’ll look like someone who refuses to let a boy dictate her worth. You’ll look strong. Confident. Like the Emma Calloway I know.”

Her words hung in the air, challenging me. Part of me wanted to argue, to retreat back into my bed and let the night pass me by. But another part, a quieter but stronger part, whispered that Harper was right.

I glanced at my desk, where my gold compact mirror rested. The intricate floral patterns on its surface gleamed under the soft light of my lamp. My mom had given it to me for my birthday last year, a reminder to always “put my best face forward.” I picked it up, running my fingers over the engravings. Beneath the polished finish, faint scratches caught the light, imperfections I’d usually ignore.

What if I let them see me, scratches and all?

“What if everyone stares?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then let them stare,” Harper said with a grin. “Give them something to talk about.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her audacity. Harper had always been the bold one, the one who didn’t care what people thought. It was something I envied about her.

She reached over and tucked a stray curl back into place. “Your hair’s still perfect, by the way. Like, annoyingly perfect.”

“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling despite myself.

I snapped the compact shut and stood slowly, smoothing out the skirt of my dress. “Alright,” I said, my voice steadier now. “I’ll go.”

Harper whooped, throwing her arms around me in a quick hug before stepping back. “That’s my girl. Now go show them what you’re made of.”

As I grabbed my clutch and slipped on my heels, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t felt all night: determination. Jason and Alyssa might have stolen the spotlight, but they weren’t going to steal the whole show.

I glanced at Harper one last time before heading out the door. “Thanks, Harp. For everything.”

She winked. “Go get ’em, golden girl.”

The cool night air greeted me as I stepped outside, carrying the faint scent of magnolias from the garden. The faint hum of distant music drifted from the direction of the school, mingling with the glow of streetlights reflecting off the pavement. My heels clicked with each step, a steady rhythm that matched the beat of my resolve. Jason could have Alyssa Lane. This night was mine to reclaim.