Desired by All and He Threw Away 82

Chapter 82 

Aiden’s POV 

The moment I step deeper onto the porch, the world holds its breath. 

It isn’t quiet. Not really. People still mutter, shuffle, bristle with leftover anger. But something shifts.like someone reached into the noise and slid the dial down just enough for me to hear my own pulse drumming steady in my cars. 

I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. 

“Alright,” i say keeping my tone even. “we are going to go one at a time.” 

Faces swing toward me. Some shrink back. Some flare with defiance. The wealthy parents stiffen, as if authority should only sound one way and I’m not performing it correctly for their taste. 

But I’m not here to perform. 

Taylor stands off to the side with her brother pressed into her his small shoulders shaking in tight uneven bursts.her arms wrap around him like she is trying to shield him from the whole street.she runs her fingers through his hair long slow strokes the kind meant to soothe. 

But her own hands tremble. the porch light throws a soft glow on her face and in that glow i can see how hard shes holding herself together. 

I look first at the wealthy boy. 

He can’t look at me. Sweat gathers along his temple sliding past the thin blonde hairs there.his gaze jumps everywhere the porch railing the dirt, his mother’s hand clamped over her designer bag anywhere that isnt me. 

“tell me what happened,” i say. 

His throat bobs.he starts talking but the story spills out thin flimsy,threads snapping with every detail.every time he says his own name his voice cracks. 

his mother hovers behind him like a hawk on a short leash.her arms fold tight under her chest chin pointed up with that sharp tilt wealthy people get when they think they are above correction. 

I shift my attention to the other kids. 

They stand scattered at the edge of the yard, backs against bikes and tree trunks, like the guilt pushed them there. One girl bites her lip so hard it pales. A boy twists the string on his hoodie until it looks like it might tear straight off. Nobody meets my eyes. 

I asked again. 

And again. 

i move slowly between them letting the quiet press in letting them hear how thin their excuses sound in the open air.the porch boards creak under my steps.the distant buzz of a streetlamp stutters.the night smells like cut grass sweat and the leftover sweetness of someone’s spilled soda. 

“start from the beginning,” i say to the girl. 

1/2 

Chupler a 

She hesitates, then pushes out a shaky breath. 

+25 Borus 

well… we were at the park and…“her words fade her eyes dart to the wealthy boy then back to me then down at 

her shoes. 

the tension shifts. A ripple moves through them. Their stories don’t match. Not even close. 

the air thickens heavy with the truth trying to claw its way out, 

the second boy suddenly blurts, “he lost it at the park.” 

Silence drops like a cold sheet. 

The wealthy boy’s mother stiffens. His father’s mouth parts just a little, like he didn’t expect the night to turn on his own kid. 

The boy swallows. “The phone.nobody stole anything.” 

a sharp gust of wind slips through the street shaking the leaves overhead, even the chirping somewhere in the dark pauses. 

The wealthy kid’s face drains of color, then floods red.his jaw locks.his eyes stay glued to the ground.shame sits heavy on his shoulders pulling him inward like gravity just doubled in this one spot. 

The story unravels fast after that. 

words fall out of the kids around him in broken stumbling bursts. 

“He misplaced it—” 

“He panicked-” 

“He was scared his dad would-” 

“He made up the stuff about Alex-” 

“And the bruise? It was from the bench–he tripped-” 

D 

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